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+{"text":"\nThank you for buying this ebook, published by NYU Press.\n\nSign up for our e-newsletters to receive information about forthcoming books, special discounts, and more!\n\n**Sign Up!**\n\n### **About NYU Press**\n\nA publisher of original scholarship since its founding in 1916, New York University Press Produces more than 100 new books each year, with a backlist of 3,000 titles in print. Working across the humanities and social sciences, NYU Press has award-winning lists in sociology, law, cultural and American studies, religion, American history, anthropology, politics, criminology, media and communication, literary studies, and psychology.\n**The Deepest South**\n\n# The Deepest South\n\n_The United States, Brazil, and the  \nAfrican Slave Trade_\n\nGerald Horne\n\nNEW YORK UNIVERSITY PRESS  \nNew York and London  \nwww.nyupress.org\n\n\u00a9 2007 by New York University  \nAll rights reserved\n\nLibrary of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data  \nHorne, Gerald.  \nThe deepest south : the United States, Brazil, and the African slave trade \/ Gerald Horne.  \np. cm.  \nIncludes bibliographical references and index.  \nISBN-13: 978-0-8147-3688-3 (cloth : alk. paper)  \nISBN-10: 0-8147-3688-2 (cloth : alk. paper)  \nISBN-13: 978-0-8147-3689-0 (pbk. : alk. paper)  \nISBN-10: 0-8147-3689-0 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Slave-trade\u2014America\u2014History\u201419th century. 2. Slavery\u2014  \nUnited States\u2014History\u201419th century. 3. Slavery\u2014Brazil\u2014  \nHistory\u201419th century. I. Title.  \nHT1048.H67 2006  \n306.3'62\u2014dc22 2006029836\n\nNew York University Press books are printed on acid-free paper, and their binding materials are chosen for strength and durability.\n\nManufactured in the United States of America\n\nc 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1  \np 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1\n\n## **Contents**\n\nIntroduction\n\n1 Toward the Empire of Brazil\n\n2 Into Africa\n\n3 Buying and Kidnapping Africans\n\n4 Wise?\n\n5 Crisis\n\n6 The U.S. to Seize the Amazon?\n\n7 Making the Slave Trade Legal?\n\n8 The Civil War Begins\/The Slave Trade Continues\n\n9 Deport U.S. Negroes to Brazil?\n\n10 Confederates to Brazil\n\n11 The End of Slavery and the Slave Trade?\n\nEpilogue\n\n_Notes_\n\n_Index_\n\n_About the Author_\n\n## **Introduction**\n\nThis book is about the relationship between the two great slave empires of the 19th century\u2014the U.S. and Brazil\u2014in the context of the African Slave Trade, with the accent decidedly on North America. This is _not_ a book about slavery in Brazil; though the narrative engages four continents, the primary focus is on the U.S., more specifically, the role of U.S. nationals as slave traders and sojourners in Brazil; i.e., this book is also a social history about the impact of Brazil on the U.S. It is very much a story that involves Brazil (and Africa) in the eyes of the U.S.\u2014and not vice versa, and it is very much a story about the role of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade. It is also a story about the continuing rivalry between London and Washington that had exploded in war in 1812 and then festered as the U.K. abolished slavery in the Empire in the 1830s.\n\nThis book argues that U.S. slavery is better understood in hemispheric terms\u2014the Slave South saw in an alliance with Brazil a formidable hedge against a future relationship with the North and, for that matter, a hedge against continuing pressure from London to abolish slavery, a hedge that could mean triumph in a Civil War, if need be.\n\nTwo leading characters in these pages are former Virginia Governor, Henry Wise\u2014John Brown's executioner\u2014and Matthew Fontaine Maury, a Virginian of a stature comparable to Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. As Minister to Brazil, Wise crusaded vigorously against the illicit slave trade to Brazil, while Maury advocated strongly for deporting enslaved U.S. Negroes to the Amazon for the purpose of developing this region; he was also part of a cabal that had designs on seizing the Amazon from Brazil: their ostensibly separate initiatives are best comprehended in unison, i.e., if Brazil could draw upon the labor of enslaved African-Americans, there would be no need to draw upon the illicit trade, which was dominated by forces in the U.S. Northeast and their lust for Brazilian territory was of a piece with their boundless expansion westward in North America. This was one more source of regional tension that was to explode in Civil War. Likewise, the flood of U.S. nationals who arrived in Brazil on their way to the California goldfields got a glimpse of a brutal slavery that enhanced abolitionist sentiment and also exacerbated regional tensions. This relationship with Brazil was an aspect of a larger phenomenon: the blurring of citizenship boundaries as slavers changed flags in midocean routinely; those who sought to profit from the slave trade often thought that U.S. nationality provided protection and altered citizenship accordingly; diplomats in foreign capitals often acted on behalf of more than one nation; at times it seemed that slave trading was the prime preoccupation of certain diplomats, notably\u2014though not exclusively\u2014those of Portugal serving in New York, who advocated kidnapping Africans and compelling them to be \"American,\" albeit enslaved. This frayed idea of citizenship contributed to thinking in the Slave South that was evolving away from allegiance to Washington and toward a firmer relationship with Brazil.\n\n### **_Contours of the African Slave Trade_**\n\nBetween 1500 and 1800, more Africans than Europeans arrived in the Americas, while recent research suggests that between 12 million and 20 million Africans were shipped against their will by Europeans and European colonists to the New World up to the latter stages of the 19th century. By one estimate 100 million Africans lost their lives as a result of the maritime slave trades. Between 1600 and 1850, \"approximately 4.5 million enslaved Africans went to Brazil, ten times as many as went to North America and indeed more than the total number of Africans who went to all of the Caribbean and North America combined.\" Luanda, Angola offered a shorter sea passage to Brazilian ports than most slave-hunting grounds\u201435 days to Pernambuco; thus, after 1575, Angolans predominated in the Black Brazilian population.\n\nYet despite the length and breadth of the era of the African Slave Trade, more than 40 percent made this perilous voyage in the ninety years prior to \"final suppression in 1867,\" and it was during the 1840s that \"the transatlantic slave trade probably reached an all-time peak.\" Brazil imported well over one million slaves (half of them illegally) during the first half of the nineteenth century compared with an estimated three million slaves during the previous 300 years. From 1835 to 1855 alone, 500,000 Africans were smuggled to Brazil, an essential element of what has been termed \"the largest forced emigration in history.\"\n\nHence, historians estimate the Brazilian slave population around 1820 to be two million, i.e., two-thirds of the country's total population. In the following decades, U.S. nationals played a key role in skewing further the population of Brazil with their avid smuggling of the enslaved and allowing their flag to be deployed for the same function. In a sense this was appropriate since by 1825, according to Robert Fogel and Stanley Engerman, these two nations contained 67 percent of the total enslaved population in the Americas. Thus, to gain a fuller understanding of \"American\" slavery, we must examine the U.S. and Brazil tie, particularly since the latter nation provided succor for slavery in the former.\n\nAs W. E. B. Du Bois observed, the \"American slave trade\"\u2014i.e., that of the western hemisphere\u2014during its busiest and most profitable stage \"came to be carried on principally by United States capital, in United States ships, officered by United States citizens, and under the United States flag.\" More precisely, as this illicit business rose in the 1840s, enslaved Africans were transported disproportionately on ships made and\/or registered in the U.S. and flying the U.S. flag and, as time passed, increasingly these ships carried U.S. crews and were financed by U.S. capital. The Stars and Stripes began to appear regularly in the foreign slave trade when it was introduced into the Cuban trade following the signing of the comprehensive Anglo-Spanish treaty of 1835. From 1838 there were reports of its appearance in the Brazilian trade and its use increased rapidly during the years 1840\u201351. Despite federal laws prohibiting the participation of U.S. citizens and U.S. vessels in the slave trade, U.S.-built ships left Baltimore, New York, Providence, Boston, Salem, and other New England ports for Brazil, where they were either sold to U.S. nationals acting as front men for slave dealers or sold directly to dealers. Moreover, \"a great many of the slave traders (Portuguese, Brazilians, and others) who chose to seek a safe alternative to the Portuguese flag found it in the Stars and Stripes.\" The provision of vessels was critical, as this industry was major in the U.S., and the staunch refusal of the U.S. to allow its flagged ships to be searched by the Royal Navy of London was similarly important. As time passed and particularly as the Civil War approached, these U.S. nationals' role became even more prominent in this business.\n\nThis Brazilian slave trade as a whole was more profitable than that of any other national slave trade; it was a \"veritable El Dorado.\" During the pivotal 1840s, \"there were probably more slaves traded at the Valongo market in Rio de Janeiro than all the New Orleans markets put together.\" Yet, the importance of this African Slave Trade to Brazil has not been sufficiently recognized in the nation that was one of its principal beneficiaries\u2014the U.S. Not least, this historical amnesia elides the profound point that this odious commerce \"constituted a sort of unsuspected and, very often, deliberately concealed genocide,\" contributing to the sad fact that \"the African population declined significantly as a proportion of the world's population between 1700 and 1900, a decline that can be attributed in large part to the effects of slavery and the slave trade.\" This occurred as simultaneously much of the wealth of the major nations of Europe and North America was built on the labor and suffering of millions of Africans.\n\n### **_Deport U.S. Negroes to Brazil?_**\n\nThose in the U.S. in the 19th century who advocated on behalf of an African Slave Trade that was illegal represented the most disunionist and pro-slavery faction of secessionists; indeed, a significant percentage of secessionists in the Lower South actively promoted or sympathized with the slave trade cause on the eve of disunion. This trend lay at the forefront of slavery expansionism and southern nationalism. These notorious \"fire-eaters\" placed Brazil near the center of their dream of a transcontinental empire of slavery, particularly in the 1850s, when it seemed that slavery was encountering a roadblock in its westward expansion. Thus, lamented the key abolitionist, William Lloyd Garrison, in 1854, \"Brother [Wendell] Phillips was right: 'the future seems to unfold a vast slave empire united with Brazil, and darkening the whole west.'\" That very same year a group of men with \"grandiose ideas\" created the \"Knights of the Golden Circle\" who plotted to realize Garrison's worst nightmare\u2014forging a \"great slave empire\" that blanketed the hemisphere.\n\nThe most articulate and influential advocate of a Brazil strategy was the celebrated Virginian, Matthew Fontaine Maury\u2014renowned scientist and powerful Confederate, who ranks in the state's annals alongside Robert E. Lee. He saw the Amazon famously as the \"safety-valve of the Union\" and envisioned deporting U.S. Negroes (accompanied by slave masters, of course) to this still relatively underdeveloped region as an advance guard of Dixie colonialism. \"It is easier and quicker,\" argued Maury, \"for sailing vessels from the Amazon to make the voyage to New York, than to Rio; and a vessel can make the passage quicker from New York to Rio, than she can from the Amazon to Rio.\" Thus, he concluded, it would be \"wise to transfer the slaves of the Mississippi Valley to the valley of the Amazon\"\u2014an analysis that was taken quite seriously at the time in the Brazilian Foreign Ministry, as Maury's provocative words were translated and discussed. In a carefully worded response, replete with loopholes and ambiguities\u2014a classic \"non-denial denial\"\u2014U.S. Secretary of State William Marcy assured his Brazilian counterpart that he should not take seriously \"certain newspaper articles\" which \"created the [impression] on the mind of [Brazilians]\" that a \"steamer of the United States is in the Amazon.\"\n\nMaury was among many in the U.S. who cast a ravenous eye on Brazilian territory. There was a continuity of interest among those who wanted to seize land in South America and those who wanted to ship enslaved Africans from the U.S. to this continent\u2014with the former accompanying the latter as this aggression was being consummated. Strikingly, as thousands of U.S. nationals traveled by ship to Rio on their way to California during the 1848\u201350 \"Gold Rush,\" a number of them scrutinized carefully the military defenses of this South American giant. W. Grayson Mann, who had served recently as secretary to the U.S. Minister in Brazil, urged the infamous soldier-of-fortune, William Walker, in mid-1857 to \"change his focus\" from seizing the minnow that was Nicaragua and turn his attention to the whale that was Brazil, claiming that he would then join Walker to help prevent \"the fairest portion of God's Creation rotting away in the hands of a decrepit race incapable of developing its resources.'\" Mark Twain was among those in the U.S. who \"'was fired with a longing to ascend the Amazon'\" and \"'tried to contrive ways to get to Para'\" there. He left Keokuk, floating down the Mississippi heading for this town, though\u2014in a journey that may have been more fanciful than real\u2014\"he never got any further than New Orleans.\" Not surprisingly, the articulate African American, J. H. Banks, agreed with the not uncommon opinion on the eve of the Civil War that the \"aim of the slave power is to unite with Brazil and extend the disunion of slavery to the Pacific.\"\n\nThe idea of deporting U.S. Negroes to the Amazon\u2014championed by Maury\u2014was gaining traction, even as the Civil War proceeded. In 1862, a committee of the House of Representatives on \"Emancipation and Colonization\" considered this notion, arguing that \"no one can have failed to observe the power and influence which Great Britain has exercised and the substantial advantages she has obtained in all the countries around the Gulf of Mexico, through the instrumentality of Jamaica Negroes, who are to be found scattered in small settlements through these regions.\"\n\nA few years earlier, in 1858, a \"group of Republican leaders from the border states and the West introduced legislation to subsidize black colonization in Latin America\" in an \"attempt to rebut the Democratic image of the Republicans as proponents of 'Africanization' of the territories.... in the border states especially, they added, espousing colonization was essential to building a Republican Party base among poor whites.\" This scheme was revived with a vengeance by Washington's Civil War ambassador to Brazil, James Watson Webb, a comrade of South Carolina's pro-slavery leader, John C. Calhoun. But the Brazilian Minister of Foreign Affairs, though finding Webb's plan \"highly interesting\" that deserved to be \"seriously pondered\" rejected this mass deportation since \"nothing of that sort may possibly be tried in our country, as we have a positive law which expressly interdicts the admittance of any freed Negroes within our limits.\"\n\nUndeterred, Washington queried a number of Latin American nations within Spain's sphere of influence about accepting deported U.S. Negroes. But Madrid's man in Haiti warned sternly that their presence would be a danger to those of European descent in Santo Domingo and could foment countless local and global conflicts. On the day the Emancipation Proclamation took effect, the U.S. legation in Brazil's neighbor, Ecuador, briskly informed Washington that \"in accordance\" with instructions from his government, he had queried \"the Ecuadorean government on the subject of Negro Colonization. I find them entirely averse to it,\" this after he had \"a conversation with the President at his house\" where in line with certain hemispheric norms he \"expressed strong antipathies against the Negro race. He regretted that there are so many of them in and about Guayaquil and added that it would be very fortunate for the white race in America if it could rid itself of the Negro element either by transferring it back to Africa or in some other way.\"\n\nEven after the \"Emancipation Proclamation,\" London's man in Washington reported that the \"President of the United States sent for me\" and \"told me that he had been for some time anxious to speak to me in an informal unofficial manner on the subject of promoting the emigration of coloured people from this country to the British colonies.\"\n\nCertainly the inability of Washington to secure a foreign destination for Negroes aided in compelling U.S. leaders to accept a black presence on these shores. On the other hand, London's reluctance to accept this precursor of \"ethnic cleansing\" was not necessarily motivated by humane considerations but was more of a reluctance to embrace a stigmatized group or to do any favors for a nation, i.e., the U.S., it had already warred with and with which it endured a continual conflict.\n\nIn the run-up to this deportation scheme, sharp conflicts had emerged between London and Washington, not least because of the former's efforts to enforce the ban on the illegal slave trade, which had Brazil as its foremost destination. J. H. Banks spoke for many of his fellow African-Americans when he chose to \"look upon [Britain] as the friend of the coloured race. It is a common opinion among the slaves that slavery will be terminated by a war between England and the United States.\" Like a number of U.S. Negroes, he chose exile in Britain. Would more U.S. Negroes defect to the venerable foe that was the U.K., if plans accelerated to ship them out of the country?\n\nFrom the other shore, as John C. Calhoun saw it, London's prosecution of anti\u2013slave trade regulations was hypocritical and self-interested, intended to \"'destroy the peace and prosperity of both'\" Brazil and the U.S. and \"'transfer the production of rice, cotton, sugar and coffee'\" from these two nations to London's \"'possessions beyond the Cape of Good Hope.'\" When the legislature in Texas, a state that was long a site for illegal smuggling of enslaved Africans, moved in 1857 toward the legal reopening of the trade, the solons of the Lone Star State argued that abolitionist pressure from London was compelling this conclusion.\n\nAccordingly, the U.S. Minister to Spain, Washington Irving, informed Secretary of State John C. Calhoun about conversations he had engaged in concerning \"prosecuting the scheme of organizing a coalition between the French and Spanish colonies, Brazil and the Southern parts of the United States to protect themselves from the Abolition intrigues and the machinations of England.\" Washington \"had refused\" to \"participate in the new [global abolitionist] initiatives and continually refused to countenance the idea of an antislavery league,\" while steadfastly refusing to grant the British Navy authority to search suspected slavers bearing the U.S. flag, which encouraged pirates of various nationalities to hoist this banner. Then, during the Crimean War the British, who had the \"largest\" anti\u2013slave trade \"force on the coast\" of Africa, \"were obliged to reduce it very materially,\" which was like a dream-come-true for U.S. slavers.\n\nConsequently, as the Civil War approached, Washington was informed by London that \"the slave trade continues to be carried on, on the African coast, and almost exclusively by vessels sailing under the American flag, and provided with genuine American papers.... American citizens engage in it almost with impunity.\" Of \"170 slave-trading expeditions fitted out in little more than three years preceding 1862\"\u2014a time when the trade was reaching new heights in its centuries' long history\u2014\"no fewer than 74 were known to or believed to have sailed from New York, 43 from other American ports, 40 from ports in Cuba, and the rest from European ports.\" Relations between London\u2014the prime enforcer of strictures against the slave trade\u2014and Washington, whose nationals were the prime scofflaws, had deteriorated to the point that even during the midst of the Civil War officials in Cape Town, a major listening post for the monitoring of this illicit commerce, were informed that the U.K. \"may shortly be engaged in a war with the United States.\"\n\n### **_The U.S. and the Slave Trade to Brazil_**\n\nThe U.S. was the principal market for Brazilian coffee during the 1820s and early 1830s, suggesting that North Americans were a beneficiary in a major crop of an economy driven by slave labor. It was not surprising when in early 1826 the President of Baltimore's Chamber of Commerce spoke warmly of \"the great magnitude of our Commerce with the rich and extensive Empire of Brazil and with the provinces of Rio de la Plata.\" This region was absorbing a \"larger proportion of the produce of our Country than any other branch of our South American trade.\" As the flag followed commerce\u2014and vice versa\u2014the U.S. legation in Brazil often was studded with self-interested businessmen. William Wright of Maryland\u2014whose family was prominent in Brazil's economy\u2014also represented the U.S. in this giant nation. His connections to the slave trade caused some abolitionists to fret that such diplomats would be less than aggressive in enforcing the bar against this evil commerce. Manuel Pinto de Fonseca of Rio de Janeiro, a major figure in the unlawful slave trade, \"had business connections with the U.S. firm of Maxwell, Wright and Co., also located in Rio de Janeiro\"\u2014which, of course, was the prize jewel of the Wright family of Maryland. This company \"facilitated the financing of U.S. slavers by Brazilian entrepreneurs and the sale of newly imported Africans to plantations. Wright and Company was the largest U.S. merchant firm in Rio de Janeiro from the 1820s through the 1840s\" and also had extensive interests in Cuba, the West Indies, and Europe.\n\nThough they literally wrote the book on U.S. trade with Brazil, Wright and Company were not singular as there were other U.S. firms jousting for influence in this enormously profitable business. Interestingly, Wright was not unique in being a diplomat tied to slave traders: this was a pattern that was not uncommon and given the official capacities of these men, this tie obviously facilitated the continuation of the illicit trade. Though a consensus has emerged that the illegal trade to Brazil had dropped off sharply by the early 1850s, that decade continued to witness human shipments by those with U.S. ties, particularly the Portuguese Company [Companhia Portuguesa] in New York. Certainly, the powerful U.S. was quite lax in monitoring the slaving inclinations of those whose ships carried their flag and whose \"citizens\" carried their passports.\n\nAs Salem, Massachusetts lost out to Boston and New York City for regional prominence in the 1820s, it pushed into new markets, particularly in East Africa, where \"some American vessels were engaged in the [slave] trade, buying the slaves at Mozambique principally and transporting them to Brazil and South America.\" There was \"an overwhelming predominance of American influence in Zanzibar during the latter half of the nineteenth century,\" as slave sales increased in prominence. U.S. influence in East Africa had increased to the point that \"Britain had already shown herself desirous of thwarting American rivalry in the East and lent ready credence to rumors of a possible American annexation of Delagoa Bay, which Portugal had practically abandoned for the convenience of our [U.S.] whalers.\"\n\nThe question of whalers and their intersection with the latter stages of the African Slave Trade is not insignificant. In New England, whaling peaked during the 1835\u201345 decade, then went into a steady decline. At the same time, the crews, which formerly had been comprised \"'almost entirely of Americans,'\" began to change; there was a \"steady replacement of African-Americans and Afro-Indians\" by \"European immigrants, chiefly Portuguese.\" This was \"the stimulus for the first wave\" of \"[Lusophone] immigrants in the 1850s, most of them destined for New Bedford.\" This replacement occurred as the whaling fleet was being converted into a slaving one; whalers \"often engaged in the slave trade. Sometimes they would fit out in New Bedford or Long Island Sound ostensibly for the nobler game but, quite, unbeknown to the crew\" would become a slaving expedition. Jettisoning African-American mariners facilitated this process.\n\nDisguising slavers as whalers was a prominent tactic deployed to deceive the British Navy. As for the U.S. Navy, which was sworn to disrupt the trade as well, it was often not up to the task. Until 1857, the \"U.S. squadron never consisted of more than seven ships and the average was less than five. The British squadron ... never numbered less than 12 and averaged 18. Furthermore, the U.S. squadron was based on the Cape Verde Islands, which were almost 3000 miles and at least a month's sail from the southern slave trading area.\" This was notably unfortunate as time passed since \"the trade was never so flourishing as in the five years preceding the Civil War.\" Even the Spanish Foreign Ministry\u2014sited in a nation where slave trading, particularly to Cuba, was rampant\u2014took note of the \"sudden and increased activity in the slave trade\" in 1859, and the \"well established fact that nearly the whole of the fleet is fitted out in Boston, Portland, New Bedford and other eastern ports.\"\n\n### **_Was U.S. Slavery Influenced by Hemispheric and Global Trends?_**\n\nThe eminent Dixie diplomat, Duff Green, was among the many in his region who had a firm \"belief that foreign relations were important to strengthening the South's political position.\" As slavery came under sharper attack from abolitionists in the 1840s\u2014coincidentally as the slave trade enjoyed a rebirth\u2014pro-slavery forces banded together across borders. Thomas Jollivet of France, a pro-bondage advocate, \"made contact\" with Green, \"an apostle of American slavery, when the latter was in Paris in 1842\" and went on to rely on the \"slavery apologist John C. Calhoun in his writings, suggesting a community of interests between the French and American plantocracies.\"\n\nFurthermore, there was a transnational recognition that prices of crops produced by slave labor were significantly influenced by transnational forces. As U.S. nationals accelerated the smuggling of enslaved Africans to Brazil in the 1840s, they were able to increase the crops that were grown there, which ultimately provided a challenge to U.S. hemispheric dominance, which in turn increased pressure in this nation to reopen the African Slave Trade (just as it energized those in the Slave South who opposed the illicit slave trade to Brazil). High sugar prices during this era, which were driven in no small part by a decline in English staple production, were causing more slaves to be imported into Cuba and Brazil from Africa, thereby stimulating the slave trade\u2014and the bank accounts of some U.S. nationals.\n\nIn Buenos Ayres [Aires] one Briton opined giddily that the U.S. Civil War would \"transfer the production of cotton from America to British India and other countries which are much more under our influence than America was or ever could be.\" A U.S. diplomat in Brazil disagreed, though this was of small comfort to Washington; Secretary of State William Seward was informed, as the Civil War raged, that \"a great development has been given to the resources of this province by the rebellion now so unhappily [occurring] in our country. If 'cotton is king'\u2014his throne promises to be removed to Brazil. The stimulus given to the culture of that staple, if not soon withdrawn will give to this Empire the monopoly which we formerly possessed.\" Prices of this crop had increased a staggering fourfold.\n\nConsequently, defenders of slavery recognized that the peculiar institution was heavily dependent on currents from abroad. For example, Brazil's legation in Washington analyzed extensively Nat Turner's slave revolt in Virginia, seeking signs of whether this contagion might spread. Even in faraway Buenos Aires, where slavery was hardly prominent, note was taken of this chilling revolt.\n\nLikewise, a few years later the U.S. legation in Bahia, Brazil analyzed extensively a slave revolt in this province, seeking signs of whether this contagion might spread. The U.S. Consul reported on a \"most serious insurrection of the black population ... had it not been discovered a few hours before, the consequences might have been dreadful.\" A U.S. merchant there spoke of the \"great state of alarm and fear that he would continue to have\" as a result and was elated that \"men from the American Corvette Erie which Captain Percival had kindly lent him [aid] to protect his house as he did not consider himself safe. I heard that Capt. Percival has landed detachments to protect the American Consul and other merchants had offered his assistance and protection to the Consuls of other nations.\" Brazilian elites could not be indifferent to slave revolts in the U.S., just as U.S. elites could be affected by slave revolts in Brazil.\n\nJust as Liberia was seen in Washington as a convenient dumping ground for free Negroes, thought to be inherently subversive of slavery, there was a similar sentiment in Brazil. Similarly, Madrid monitored carefully the rebellion led by John Brown, no doubt worried about what it meant for Cuba\u2014still languishing in human bondage. In short, pro-slavery forces in the Americas recognized that the viability of the peculiar institution was deeply influenced by hemispheric and transatlantic currents.\n\n\"Africanization,\" or the fear of growing numbers of Africans in Brazil, also deeply influenced segments of U.S. opinion about the feasibility of reopening the slave trade in their own nation. The influence, as an outgrowth of their numbers, of those deemed to be \"black\" in Brazil\u2014notably their role in the military\u2014was also frightening to some in North America. One U.S. emissary cautioned his superiors about undue interference in the internal affairs of Brazil. \"We should cautiously abstain in this country above all others, from lending the smallest breath of encouragement to insurrection\" he warned nervously, since \"the physical force of the country is out of all proportion black or colored; no insurrection can be of long continuance without ending in a servile war.\" This was a \"tragedy,\" potentially \"fatal.\" The \"catastrophe I [envision],\" he added apocalyptically, \"is that Brazil may become a black military despotism,\" a \"disastrous\" outcome, he thought. Hence, the \"palpable conclusion\" he outlined was that \"our interests, commercial, political & domestic, lead us to further the repose, the political harmony & the general prosperity of the entire Brazilian Empire.\" Would smuggling more Africans into the U.S. similarly increase the possibility of \"servile war\"?\n\nAs opinion was souring in certain circles in the U.S. about the viability of slavery, the U.S. Consul in Pernambuco, Brazil thought he espied a similar sentiment in Brazil. \"I believe,\" he announced that \"the most intelligent men in this Province are satisfied that the solution of the labor question lies in the abolition of slavery.\" Hence, the \"ratification of the Thirteenth Amendment to the American Constitution was an act of great importance not only in the United States, but also in Cuba, Puerto Rico and Brazil.\" It was a blow in the long run to slavery in the hemisphere and, most of all, to the clandestine and illegal African Slave Trade to Brazil which had enriched a number of U.S. nationals.\n\n### **_The California Gold Rush and the African Slave Trade to Brazil_**\n\nAs the illegal slave trade to Brazil was increasing, another sizeable movement\u2014albeit voluntary\u2014was taking place. The \"discovery of gold in California was to trigger the greatest mass migration in the history of the young Republic up to that time, 80,000 in 1849 alone and probably 300,000 by 1854.\" The preferred route west was around Cape Horn with a stop in Rio de Janeiro. Hence, in \"the first three months of 1849, eighty-six California ships put into the harbor\" there; \"sometimes a dozen arrived in a single day, bearing as many as a thousand passengers.\" Their distinctive presence allowed U.S. slavers not to stand out so boldly, thus, helping them to avoid detection. On the other hand, many from beyond the confines of the U.S. South had no specific knowledge of the horrors of African slavery and, thus, Rio was shocking to many, helping to spark abolitionist sentiment. \"Slave markets horrified visitors, especially those from New England\" according to the scholar, Rhoda Blumberg. \"Unlike southern slaveholders, they had never witnessed humans for sale.\" Nor had many previously witnessed some of the surreal scenes that greeted them in Rio. As enslaved Africans flooded into Brazil and the ships carrying them were hounded by the British Navy, some of the more unscrupulous skippers decided to dispose of the evidence by throwing their cargo overboard, while other Negroes sought to escape by diving into inky waters. As one U.S. national put it, \"the harbor is constantly covered with the bodies of blacks,\" who \"are known to [have] thrown themselves in to escape.... I have seen them myself left by the tide on the strand.\"\n\nStrikingly, as these Euro-Americans were repulsed by the dreadfulness of Brazilian slavery, a number of African-Americans viewed this nation differently, using this South American example as a means to discredit the awfulness in North America they were compelled to endure. Brazil, thought Frederick Douglass, was the \"only country where the Negro could rise to a high position in society, even to that of judge or major general, if he were possessed of character and talent.\" His fellow black abolitionist, Martin Delany, concurred. Ironically, both of these sentiments\u2014Brazil as \"racial\" horror and Brazil as \"racial\" paradise\u2014served to undermine slavery in the U.S.\n\nYet neither school of thought seemed to grasp the point that the infrastructure of the illegal trade captained by U.S. nationals and serving Brazil probably had a spillover effect in the U.S., increasing the number of enslaved Africans brought to the U.S., particularly as this commerce increased as the Civil War approached; that is, as Africans were dragged across the Atlantic and Britain sought to foil their landing in Brazil, it made sense for these slavers to head northward to Cuba and New Orleans. Following Du Bois, the scholar Robert Hall estimates that \"between 1808 and 1860\" about \"250,000 Africans\" were \"imported into the United States,\" which is probably on the high end but provides a glimpse of the dimension of the problem. In 1859, the U.S. Department of Interior dispatched an agent to the \"southern states\" to investigate the \"extent of importation of Negroes direct from Africa.\" After \"widely conversing with a number of gentlemen of intelligence\" and traveling to Wilmington, North Carolina, Charleston, Florida, and elsewhere he emerged with a mixed view, receiving credible reports of hundreds of recent imports to northern Florida. British emissaries in Texas provided numerous reports over the years of enslaved Africans being smuggled into this nation, then state. Certainly the momentum provided by the clandestine trade to Brazil\u2014spearheaded by U.S. nationals\u2014contributed mightily to the flouting of law that led to Africans being brought forcibly to North America. Just as cracking down on the sale of illicit drugs in one neighborhood often drives it into adjacent neighborhoods, something similar was happening with the illicit slave trade.\n\nLikewise, when the Slave South decided to secede from the U.S., many wondered how and why they thought they could prevail against a more populous and more industrialized North, but this thinking elides the reality that the Deep South had sound cause to think that it could rely on the Deepest South\u2014i.e.. an alliance with Brazil\u2014along with its former patron, Portugal, and Spanish Cuba and could thus prevail and ensure that slavery in the hemisphere would triumph.\n\n### **_Confederate Exiles in Brazil_**\n\nAfter the Civil War, some U.S. nationals\u2014particularly from Dixie\u2014reluctant to reside under the rule of the government they had just sought to overthrow and unwilling to relinquish their fondness for slavery, migrated to Brazil, where this institution continued until 1888. In 1867, the **New York Times** noticed one \"Southern gentleman,\" who \"thinks that in Brazil he can own slaves, can do as he pleases, go where he likes and retain his old views of the inferiority of the Negro.\" He was among the thousands who made this journey southward, a number of whom tried to bring enslaved Africans with them. This capital flight too was noticed by a British diplomat in Puerto Rico, who was informed of a \"cargo of slaves shipped off the coast of Florida\" that \"had called off Vieques for the purpose of obtaining provisions in order to continue her voyage to the coast of Brazil.\" He moaned that this \"traffic may be carried on with success, a traffic which is even more barbarous than the African slave trade, from the fact that these poor Negroes of the southern states who have received the one great benefit of the late American civil war ... should again so treacherously be driven into bondage.\" Like the illegal trade to Brazil and the U.S., one can only speculate about the number of erstwhile U.S. Negroes who were kidnapped and taken to Brazil after the Civil War. The conclusion of this terrible war ultimately was a devastating\u2014though, intriguingly, not necessarily a fatal\u2014blow to this criminality of illicit slave trade.\n\nIn sum, this book is an account of the diplomatic history of the U.S.\u2013Brazil relationship\u2014with an accent on North America\u2014in the context of the acceleration of the African Slave Trade. But lurking above both of these nations is Great Britain, whose intervention slowed down the attempt to bring even more enslaved Africans across the Southern Atlantic. In highlighting the role of such figures as Matthew Fontaine Maury, I seek to underscore the pivotal role played by Brazil in the mind of certain leaders of the Slave South to the point where not only it bolstered their idea that they could prevail in the Civil War but also served as a refuge once that conflict ended so disastrously for them.\n\nIn this 1830 engraving, black people, including women and children, are in chains and shackles in the foreground, with the U.S. Capitol in the background. An influential corps of U.S. nationals, particularly in New England, New York, and New Orleans avidly backed the African Slave Trade. Courtesy Library of Congress.\n\n## **1  \nToward the Empire of Brazil**\n\nBrazil, which borders every nation in South America except Chile and Ecuador, has only a tiny portion of its territory, in the far south, in the temperate zone. Its shoreline stretches for 4600 miles, and it is as near to Africa as to the United States\u2014a connection which inevitably attracted nationals of the latter who were interested in perpetuating the slave trade. This chapter will explore early connections between the U.S. (and the thirteen colonies) in the context of the slave trade to Brazil and before its post-1840 expansion.\n\nThe slavery tie between the nation that was to become the U.S. and Brazil stretches back at least to the early 17th century, when the Dutch controlled New Netherlands\u2014i.e., \"New York\"\u2014and a Brazilian colony and were transporting enslaved Africans from there to North America. Even after the Dutch were ousted from control of Brazil and Portugal extended its domination, this collaboration on the slave trade between North and South America continued. In the early 18th century, Thomas Amory of Charleston, who traded regularly in West Africa, \"pointed to the ease with which he could send slaves to Brazil\" for \"Negroes sell as well at [South] Carolina as at Brazil.\" Still, Northeastern merchants dominated the slave trade to Brazil. The family of Mary Robinson Hunter, whose spouse served as a diplomat in Rio de Janeiro beginning in the 1830s, was preeminent in this commerce.\n\nThe early relationship between the North American colonists and Brazil was facilitated by the relationship between Britain and Portugal. The alliance between London and Lisbon was long-standing\u2014a trend that was evident at the surrender at Yorktown, where the man who presented Cornwallis's sword was Charles O'Hara, the \"bastard son of Lord Tyrawley, English Ambassador to Portugal\" and \"his mistress, Anna, a Portuguese lady.\" This was reflective of the fact that \"many English, because of old social ties and economic trading positions, did business with and lived in both Brazil and Portugal.\" This London-Lisbon alliance, in turn, facilitated ties between North America and Brazil. The relationship did not cease after the Revolution, as U.S. businessmen were prominent in the slave trade to Montevideo in the late 18th century.\n\nThe young republic's continuing interest in South America was palpable. Early on Thomas Jefferson instructed John Jay about the prospects for the ousting of Portugal from Brazil; his opinion that \"the slaves will take the side of their masters\" seemed like self-interested wishful thinking on his part. Anticipating his fellow Virginian, Matthew Fontaine Maury, Jefferson also asserted that \"'it is impossible not to look forward to distant times ... [when the U.S. would] cover the whole northern, if not the southern continent.'\" According to legal historian, A. Leon Higginbotham, there is \"much reason to believe that [Thomas] Jefferson was not truly troubled about the international slave trade,\" which suggests that this Founding Father similarly anticipated the most aggressive \"fire-eaters\" of the 1850s who too envisioned an empire for slavery that encompassed the Americas.\n\nLike revolutionaries past and present, those in North America were not averse to spreading their influence beyond their borders, a trend eased when Brazilian intellectuals \"secretly sought out Jefferson in France for confidential advice,\" just as \"overseas [Brazilian] students at the University of Coimbra devoured accounts of the American revolution and of its constitutional innovations.\" The \"martyr of Brazil's aborted revolution of 1789\" in Minas Gerais \"kept in his pocket a copy of the French translations of the American state constitutions, though knowing no French he had to ask others to translate it for him.\" Jefferson, the founder who may have paid more attention to his South American neighbor than his counterparts, remarked in his later days that he would \"'rejoice to see the fleets of Brazil and the United States riding together as between of the same family and having the same interest.'\"\n\nIt is unclear if Jefferson, a slaveholder, had this peculiar institution in mind when he envisioned such an alliance between Brazil and the U.S. since this was the overriding characteristic held in common between these two vast nations. The split in U.S. ranks on the question of the African Slave Trade may have assisted the proliferation of these U.S. dealers in the South American market. Though over the decades the Dutch had been supplanted by the Portuguese in Brazil, slave traders from North America remained a consistent presence in South America. \"Ironically,\" the trade \"in fact became more profitable after the ratification of the U.S. Constitution,\" given the infamous proviso that has been interpreted to suggest that this business would be curtailed after 1808; \"three years before the expiration of the clause the demand for slaves increased so dramatically that traders were barely able to keep up with the market. Indeed, the busiest year in the history of the trade for Rhode Island slavers was 1805.\" Hence, \"from 1804 to 1807 state and federal orders to prosecute and fine slave traders were ignored at Bristol; the number of ships leaving that port for Africa soared.\" These ships were constantly visiting the fertile slave hunting ground that was Mozambique\u2014and Brazil, where business was lucrative and varied. So many Negroes were pouring into Rio de Janeiro that the idea was broached in Cape Town of \"purchasing slaves\" in Brazil and \"liberating them on certain conditions at the Cape.\"\n\nLikewise, in the early 19th century, a considerable number of \"East African Negroes, chiefly\" from the Portuguese colony that was Mozambique were \"among the cargoes brought to Charleston,\" South Carolina, just as the Portuguese colony of Angola had supplied a considerable percentage of Virginia's Negroes. There was a continuity of interest in the slave trade between the U.S., on the one hand, and Portugal and its colonies\u2014in Africa and South America, in particular\u2014on the other hand.\n\nActually, a federal law in 1794 made illegal participation of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade\u2014beyond the confines of the U.S. itself\u2014though like most measures of this type it was hardly enforced; it was strengthened in 1800 and in 1808 another such bill was passed, then after the War of 1812, similar laws were passed. Despite these laws, there was no cessation of the participation of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade.\n\nFor these laws notwithstanding, it was estimated that thousands of Negroes per year were being brought illegally to North America by the first quarter of the 19th century, with Africans being smuggled to these shores from across the Atlantic and points south, e.g., Cuba, Jamaica, and South America. Again, this estimate appears to be extravagant, though it did signal a trend that was ongoing until the end of the Civil War marked the official closure of the trade: when Africans were being traded in the hemisphere with the abandon of pork bellies in today's Chicago, this was accompanied by the kidnapping of ostensibly free Negroes north of the Mason-Dixon line, who were sold south into slavery\u2014perhaps to \"The Deepest South,\" i.e., Brazil, in what amounted to an anarchistic free market. Indeed, some of the more doctrinaire of the free traders argued that \"no artificial barriers whatsoever should be erected against the free movement of goods, including slaves.\"\n\nWashington was officially hostile to the African Slave Trade, though the African Society of London had reason to disbelieve this and in 1816 pointed to the \"sudden substitution of the Spanish for the American flag\" on ships involved in this commerce. Thus, \"the slave trade, which now for the first time assumed a Spanish dress, was in reality only the trade of other nations in disguise.\" By 1817, the Governor of Sierra Leone thought there was a \"greater number of vessels employed in that [slave] traffic than at any former period.\" Washington was hesitant to join efforts at suppression on the grounds of upholding sovereignty. Thus, even before Britain banned slavery, it was pressuring the U.S. to bow out of the slave trade.\n\nIn 1817, Portugal signed a treaty that stipulated that their slave trade on the coast of Africa \"should entirely cease to the northward of the equator\" and \"that it should be unlawful for her subjects to purchase or trade in slaves except to the southward of the line.\" Among other things, this was a virtual declaration that Angola should be a prime hunting ground for enslaved Africans. In 1818, Washington was approached about cooperating with London on suppressing the slave trade, which in \"Article 10 of the Treaty of Ghent (1814),\" this new nation had agreed to do; but in the U.S. Senate \"the question of an anti\u2013slave trade treaty became entangled with the issue of domestic slavery and the Convention of 1824 was never ratified.\" London's aggressive approach was not embraced in Washington, nor Lisbon, with the latter taking particular umbrage since it had backed the U.K. repeatedly and thought it deserved better.\n\nLondon brusquely told Secretary of State John Quincy Adams what he should have known: The \"United States have maintained at no time, a greater number of cruisers than two, rarely more than one, and latterly, during several months together, no ship of war, whatever, on the African station. As late as the 14th of January 1822, it was stated, officially by the Governor of Sierra Leone 'that the fine rivers Nunez and Pongas, were entirely under the control of renegade European and American slave traders.'\" Adams, in turn, nixed London's proposals to rein in this outlawry, though he acknowledged the slave trade as \"piracy\" and took a swipe at \"Portugal\" as \"the only maritime power of Europe, which has not yet declared the African slave trade, without exception, unlawful.\" Meanwhile, vessels out of Mobile and New Orleans were captured with scores of enslaved Africans aboard, while repeated complaints were made about Galveston and Brunswick, Georgia as sieves for the smuggling of Africans. Indeed, in calculating the number of Africans brought illicitly into the U.S. after 1808, one should include the significant numbers brought from territories\u2014e.g., Florida and Texas\u2014that did not fall under Washington's sway until much later.\n\nGiven this bent in the U.S., it was inevitable that attention would turn to what was becoming the biggest slave market of all: Brazil. Portugal was seen as a relatively weak power that controlled this huge colony and was, therefore, ripe for dislodgement: In 1817, there was an attempted filibustering effort in Brazil, that implicated U.S. nationals, which was designed to attack Brazil in an effort to \"shake the newly elected throne of Bragansa [ _sic_ ] to its foundation.\" Subsequently, relations between Lisbon and Washington were harmed with the \"arrival\" of \"two American vessels clandestinely carrying weapons\" to those in Pernambuco leading this \"revolt.\" Simultaneously, \"Baltimore gained a notorious reputation as the chief rendezvous for privateers operating in Brazilian waters against Portuguese commerce,\" which was \"worsening diplomatic and naval relations.\" The U.S. Consul in Pernambuco, Joseph Ray, confessed to John Quincy Adams in 1818 that local authorities \"here have since the late Revolution looked on the Americans as suspicious persons who came here for the sole purpose of aiding the patriotic cause in this country.\" There was concern in Rio de Janeiro that Washington was seeking to take advantage of the fissiparous tendencies that were fomenting various separatist revolts in their nation.\n\nThis was occurring as Latin America was plunged into turmoil as nations strained to free themselves from Spanish colonialism. Though John Quincy Adams instructed his Buenos Ayres counterpart that the U.S. was bound to \"observe between the parties an impartial neutrality,\" this did not stop him from coming to the U.S. in an effort to obtain \"a number of vessels of war for the Governments of Buenos Ayres and Chile.\"\n\nWashington may have desired closer relations with B.A., not least since ties with Portuguese Brazil were fraying. When John Graham, the U.S. emissary arrived in Rio de Janeiro in August 1819, he encountered various problems. After a \"pleasant passage of forty seven days,\" he had \"difficulty\" in \"finding accommodation\" for his \"family\"; finally, he met with \"the King\" but he \"spoke however very low and in Portuguese a language,\" said Graham, \"with which I am not as yet very little acquainted.\" So, he said, \"I spoke to him in Spanish,\" which may have been the least of his growing problems. For when he sought to discuss \"commercial intercourse\" with the \"Minister of Foreign Affairs,\" he was informed \"rather abruptly\" that \"this was not the time\" to \"talk of commercial arrangements when two countries were almost in a state of actual war,\" not least given the \"harsh measures understood to have been adopted in the ports\" of Brazil \"against some vessels of the United States and their crews,\" including jailing and \"putting them in hard labour in chains when they had committed no serious offense.\" Rumors of filibustering expeditions from the U.S.\u2014or armed attempts at regime change\u2014could not have helped either, while Washington was still smarting since \"during the last war between the United States and Great Britain, Portuguese subjects were found on board captured British vessels of war.\"\n\nU.S. Negroes, often at odds with the government that oppressed them, often were similarly critical of Lisbon. **Freedom's Journal,** the pioneering Negro periodical, denounced Portugal for having \"refused to abandon this [slave] trade,\" specifically noting Lisbon's \"claim to carry it on for the supply of her African islands, the Cape de Verds [ _sic_ ] ... whence it is easy to take slaves to Brazil.\" In turn, \"news of how blacks fared in the United States horrified Brazilians when they read travel accounts, or listened to relatives who had visited Virginia or Mississippi.\" Their opinions may have been influenced further since \"slaves from the United States, Cuba, Northern South America, Uruguay and Argentina had also come to live in Rio.\" Being valuable commodities, enslaved Africans were as likely to be transported with a master from North to South America as a favored horse\u2014and probably more so.\n\nFleeing Napoleon, the besieged Portuguese monarch fled to Brazil, where in 1815 these nations were declared one kingdom; by 1820, he had been recalled to Europe by the outbreak of turmoil in his homeland. Taking advantage of this disorder and similar revolts erupting in Latin America as a whole, Brazil proclaimed independence in 1822\u2014a development which was not displeasing to some in Washington who sought to weaken the influence of European powers in the hemisphere. Moreover, \"one important reason why the Brazilian landowners and slaveholders had given their support to an independent monarchy in Brazil was precisely because they saw independence as a means of escaping from Britain's unrelenting pressure on Portugal for the complete and immediate abolition of the slave trade\"\u2014a factor also found appealing in certain pro-slavery precincts in Washington. \"Recognition of Brasil,\" said the U.S. representative in Brazil, Condy Raguet, that is \"the consummation of such an act before any other nation would give us an influence which otherwise we never can [have]\" [emphasis-original].\n\nAs Brazil was surging to independence, it was undergoing a remarkable transformation in its makeup; from 1790 to the end of the legal Atlantic slave trade in 1830, Rio de Janeiro saw nearly 700,000 Africans offloaded at its port. This number represents two-thirds of all imports into Brazil during the same time period, with 80 percent arriving from West Central Africa alone. Even at this early stage, U.S. nationals were implicated. In 1821, R. S. Long was under sentence of five years imprisonment in Angola; he was an \"American ... engaged in the slave trade ... under the Portuguese flag.... I understood,\" said the U.S. Consul, James Bennett, \"that he was a pilot but now it appears that he was owner.\"\n\nThis influx of Africans to Brazil was accompanied by a dramatic price increase, as slave prices doubled between 1820 and 1850, an increase well in excess of that recorded in the United States in the same period, which ineluctably captured the attention\u2014and initiative\u2014of U.S. slavers. The presence of these Africans allowed for a dramatic rise in agricultural production, as it was the slow collapse of the Saint Domingue coffee producers after 1790 and the eventual collapse of Cuban coffee production after a series of devastating hurricanes in the 1830s that finally gave Brazil undisputed mastery over New World production.\n\nIronically, 1830\u2014which roughly marks the year when the African Slave Trade to Brazil was to be halted\u2014actually marked the time when it increased spectacularly. As London saw it, one factor in this process was that \"slaves in Africa\" were incredibly cheap and wages of ship crews were likewise. Thus, \"factories were established on the coast of Africa\" and \"the slave trade greatly increased under cover of a pretended colonization for Monte Video [ _sic_ ].\" In a pattern that was to occur repeatedly, \"one Rafael Antonio de Carvalho, a Portuguese, acting as American Vice Consul at Mozambique\" was a prominent slave dealer. It was reported that \"the bays of Sofala, Mocambo and Fernando Vellozo\" were \"much frequented by American whalers. In last July there were as many as five in the bay of Mocambo\" while \"scarcely any British vessel touches at these ports.\" Though Lisbon was leery about losing Mozambique, just as it had lost Brazil, this sprawling region was \"in fact supplied with every [necessity] by slavers from Rio de Janeiro, Cuba and occasionally by Americans,\" while \"not a single merchant vessel went from the mother country to the province of Mozambique in the whole year of 1838.\"\n\nBy picking on Lisbon, the U.S. had selected, perhaps, the weakest of the major colonial powers. More than this, their erstwhile patron and frequent rival\u2014London\u2014had its navy mostly in West Africa to monitor slave trade depredations, which meant that East Africa was a wide open back door. By the 1830s, the U.S. \"had already set up a practical monopoly\" in this region and \"were extremely jealous of their position.\" An elongated triangular trade emerged that linked East Africa with Brazil and the U.S.\u2014particularly Salem, Massachusetts. In fact, it was reported, \"when the untutored African heard the United States, or New York, or Boston mentioned he thought it some small port in Salem\u2014or so the Salemites averred.\" Not surprisingly, one of the more commodious dining rooms in the famed Hawthorne Hotel in Salem was named the \"Zanzibar Room,\" homage to the infamous slave entrepot.\n\nU.S. nationals purchased vessels then would rent them to Brazilian and Portuguese slave traders in Brazil. They in turn used these ships, protected by the United States flag and manned by U.S. crews, for the roundtrip voyages to Africa; shipbuilders in eastern ports, including Beverly and Salem, constructed vessels especially for the Brazil-Africa trade. Zanzibar long had developed a well-merited reputation as a chief site for the African Slave Trade and from September 1832 to May 1834 of the 41 vessels recorded as arriving there were 7 from England \"(and one each from France and Spain) while 32 were American.\" Writing from Rio de Janeiro, one Salem merchant observed, \"many vessels are leaving daily for the coast of Africa for slaves. The business is increasing very rapidly.... the American schooner Carolina has been sold, for a slaver without doubt ... she is a clipper built from 80 to 90 tons & several years old.\"\n\nThe resultant economic growth in Brazil attracted visitors from the U.S., a trend that was to reach its apex during the California Gold Rush. But even before Brazilian independence, North American visitors were arriving in the Deepest South and in a trend that was to occur repeatedly, were not overly impressed by what they saw; striking was the fact that \"until the 1830s, blacks constituted 63 per cent of the population, whites 16 per cent and mixed-race people 21 per cent\"\u2014a ratio that could be chilling to those familiar with Gabriel in Virginia and Stono's Revolt in South Carolina. The writer, H. M. Brackenridge, as did many of his compatriots, was struck that \"the Portuguese are generally of a very dark complexion\" and \"the number of Negroes and of the mixed race was such, as to give a different cast in the general appearance of the population, from that of any town I have ever seen.\" Writing in 1820, again like many others, this New Orleans resident was taken by the sight of slaves pulling carts like horses and making unimaginable sounds, \"all screaming in the same style, producing a general effect, of which I can convey no idea.\"\n\nSailing from Philadelphia, Henry Bradley came there in 1821 and was repulsed when he saw \"Negroes, Indians and whites bathe in the same water, near its source, which was afterwards to supply the town\"; \"two-thirds of the inhabitants of Rio are said to be people of colour,\" which he found startling. There were \"hundreds of slaves in the street\" with \"nothing more to cover their nakedness, than a piece of cloth around the waist. They take the places of horses in this city, as nearly all the burdens, slung upon their poles, are borne to their destination by these oppressed people.\" While Bradley \"resided at Rio, several large ships came in, filled with Negroes\" where they were offloaded \"like so many sheep.\" The \"buyers examine their teeth and every part of their bodies, as they were purchasing horses. The price of these wretched human beings varied, as the markets were, or were not glutted\u2014200 dollars was the average sum paid for a black woman; 500 for a man.\" This booming metropolis was afflicted with chaos; \"I frequently saw dead bodies in the street,\" said Bradley.\n\nLike most U.S. visitors, Bradley was struck by the ubiquity of African slavery, though he was not as incensed as others about Lusophone culture which often was viewed as a hotbed of \"great miscegenationists\" and a sink of Catholic biases. Indeed, the alleged \"absence of racial prejudice in Brazil and of a color line struck every American visitor with wonder.\"\n\nStill, the message that was increasingly transmitted to the U.S. about Brazil was that it was booming, fueled by enslaved Africans\u2014a message that was bound to attract the attention of legions of slave dealers and a growing number of abolitionists. As a result of British pressure, by 1830, Brazil was being compelled to bar the legal slave trade, and slave dealers saw the time leading up to this year as an opportunity to deluge Rio de Janeiro with Africans. \"The black population has latterly enormously increased,\" wrote Thomas Bennett, arriving after Bradley's departure. \"As the period approached for the total abolition of the slave trade, capital has been everywhere embarked in the purchase of Negroes.... my eye really was so familiarized to black visages, that the occurrence of a white face in the streets of some parts of the town, struck me as a novelty.\" He found this trend \"alarming\" though he was struck by the \"improved implements of every kind which they use, the machinery they set in motion, the expertness in manual dexterity at which they arrive, and the abridgement of labor which they effect\" were \"lessons of the greatest value.\"\n\nIn a perception that was to be shared over the years by countless visitors from the U.S., Revered Robert Walsh harbored \"serious apprehensions\" since there were 2.5 million Africans and \"but 850,000\" whites; he suspected that the former \"will discover their own strength\" and \"Brazil [will] become a second St. Domingo. This is particularly the case at Bahia and Pernambuco, where almost all the Negroes are brought from the same part of Africa,\" though \"at Rio the case is different. The Negro population consists of eight or nine different castes, having no common language and actuated by no sympathetic tie\" and \"this animosity the whites cherish and endeavor to keep alive.\" Like other visitors he was similarly taken by \"the horror\" of slavery, which was of such magnitude that its victims \"not only kill themselves but their children\" and was astounded when he ascertained that the slave owners \"endeavor to restore\" the \"darkness\" of Africans \"by obliging the fair slaves to intermarry with those [that] are blacker than themselves; the good fathers being alarmed at the prospect of keeping, in a state of slavery, human faces as fair as their own.\" This came to him when he encountered a slave with \"soft fair face, light curling hair, blue eyes and a skin as that of a European\" who he was \"shocked and incredulous\" to find that his own father had sold him into slavery.\n\nWalsh was disgusted by the state of Brazilian slaves. \"The state in which they appear is revolting to humanity.... entirely naked, with the exception of a covering of dirty rags tied about their waists. Their skins, from constant exposure to the weather, had become hard, crusty and seamed, resembling the coarse black covering of some beast, or like that of an elephant.... their foreheads retiring, having exactly the head and legs of the baboon tribe\"; even \"the horses and mules\" who \"were seen in the same streets\" were \"pampered, spirited and richly caparisoned, enjoying a state far superior to the Negroes.\" However, in a pattern that was to be repeated, this disgust translated into abolitionism. Instead, he offered that \"the first impression of all this on my mind, was to shake the conviction I had always felt, of the wrong and hardship inflicted on our black fellow-creatures, and they were only in that state which God and nature had assigned them; that they were the lowest grade of human existence\"; however, after more sober reflection he \"came, therefore, to the irresistible conclusion in my mind, that color was an accident affecting the surface of a man and having no more to do with his qualities than his clothes.\"\n\nReverend Robert Walsh also thought slave labor handcuffed Brazil (though a number of his contemporaries hotly disagreed): \"the wealth of Rio is vested in this property and slaves form the income and support of a vast number of individuals, who hire them out, as people in Europe do horses and mules. This is one great cause, that prevents the adoption of machinery.\"\n\nEven in the southernmost cone of the continent, apprehension was mounting about the growing presence of Africans in the hemisphere. In Buenos Ayres, which a century earlier had \"some 24,000 inhabitants, of whom at least one-third [were] African Negro slaves\"\u2014and also had a considerable population of U.S. nationals\u2014not only was the increasingly \"Africanized\" Brazil monitored carefully, but, as well, \"disturbances ... among the blacks in the Southern States\" of the U.S., Cuba, and Jamaica. The perception was that enslavement was hemispheric and could hardly survive in one region if under assault in another.\n\nSuch perceptions were not foreign to U.S. emissaries in Rio de Janeiro and what they were seeing could not be encouraging to a nation similarly based on African slavery. \"Sir Charles Stuart told me,\" said the U.S. Minister in Rio in 1825, that \"abolition\" of the \"slave trade ... could only be brought about indirectly for that an open abandonment of it would produce as he thought a revolution.\" Yet \"the demand for vessels for the slave trade is at this time very brisk,\" John Quincy Adams was told; \"the prices of slaves are from about 150 to 180 dollars\" and \"profits are said to be very great\" with \"the number imported at this port,\" i.e., Rio, \"for several years is estimated at about 20,000 per annum.\" Continuation of slavery carried its own perils, it was thought: \"15,000 cartridges had been found in the home of one & 5000 in that of another of the officers\" in Brazil's multi-colored military who were \"conspirators\" against their government, and \"members of that society ... had intended to put arms into the hands of five hundred blacks\" who hailed from \"perhaps the most robust, active and resolute of the African race.\"\n\n\"All seems quiet here, as well as in other quarters of the Empire,\" it was said months earlier; however, \"some apprehensions ... still exist in regard to the blacks.\" The \"Male revolt\" in 1835\u2014which impacted Brazil in a way similar to how the Nat Turner revolt impacted the Slave South\u2014\"further heightened the fear of seeing Brazil dominated by blacks,\" an apprehension of grave concern in Washington as well. A few years later, the U.S. Consul in Pernambuco was writing nervously about yet another revolt, this time in Bahia: \"from one to two hundred of the most valuable houses were burnt, but I am happy to say no property of any citizen of the United States was injured. The destruction of property has been very great.... nearly 2000 persons were apprehended on suspicion of having taken an active part against the Imperial Government,\" as these rebels were bent on \"destroying the city entirely in fulfillment of the published threat of Sabino the Secretary of Foreign Affairs and Chief of the Mulatto Party.\"\n\nThis insight was even more noteworthy since U.S. diplomats complained continually of the \"difficulty of procuring information relating to events, immediately or even remotely connected with politics. This difficulty in Brazil is probably greater than in any other part of the civilized world.\" \"I have reason to think that my dwelling house has been placed under the especial espionage of the police and that the names of all the Brasileans who visit me, and perhaps of others are furnished to the government,\" said the U.S.'s chief emissary [emphasis-original].\n\nMoreover, there was an undercurrent of tension between U.S. emissaries and Brazilian elites, not least since\u2014according to a leading U.S. diplomat\u2014\"Brasil in imitation of Portugal has completely thrown herself into the arms of England and, to a certain extent, has transferred her colonial allegiance from one country to another.\" There was also \"reason for ... forbearance from all agitation here,\" said one of these diplomats, \"inasmuch as all the separatists, nullifiers & revolutionists\"\u2014of which Rio had more than its share\u2014\"refer to our history without understanding it,\" which \"leads to a suspicion by the loyal Brazilians of our countrymen.\" Thus, \"in the recent discussion of Bahia, our country, its systems & institutions have been referred to by the Republican Party so called as models for imitation; by the loyalists for the purpose of exhibiting the comparative superiority of their ... system & institutions. In all such discussions,\" he lamented, \"we are mistakenly praised & blamed.\" Of course, as Brazilian diplomats scrutinized the U.S., they did not necessarily emerge with an elevated view either.\n\nYet even the prospect of slave-assisted military revolts and increasingly disgruntled Brazilian elites could not distract U.S. diplomats from what seemed to be their primary purpose\u2014profit. Chief among these was William Wright of Maryland, scion of a fabulously wealthy merchant house that just happened to have major interests in the slave trade and the crops they produced. He became Charg\u00e9s des Affaires in Rio de Janeiro in 1830, just as the slave trade was skyrocketing. There were \"some houses in Rio that will do business for less commissions [than] our House,\" it was said of Maxwell Wright, but, it was added confidently, \"no House offers more advantages than ours and very few offers as many in the transaction of American business.\" Yes, gushed Wright, \"'we have now agencies in all the principal ports.... we have the best and most influential, we could possibly have and with my own exertions I expect a considerable increase of our business.'\" Given William Wright's strategic location with access to intelligence and the ability to slash red tape on behalf of his firm, this was not puffery. Thus, in 1835 Wright had reason to fret about \"the probabilities of a war with France\" which had \"greatly increased,\" fomenting \"much more anxiety\" of those \"connected with commerce.\" In that event, \"every ocean will be pervaded by national and private armed vessels\"; now it was \"unimportant to the ship owners of the [U.S.] as to whose flag may have the carrying of our imports & exports. But it will be deeply important to all the other interests of the country that such carrying trade be conducted by a nation capable of defending her merchant vessels.\" Wright's portfolio in Rio included intimate knowledge of shipping and its regulations, which was not irrelevant to the slave trade. Wright was positioned nicely at the intersection where politics met economics and was able to use both to leverage his special interests.\n\nYet even one so blessed as Wright had to recognize that his empire was resting shakily on an unsteady foundation, a fact that came clear after \"the late insurrection of the Blacks in Virginia and a still later one in North Carolina\" in 1831. When this news reached Maxwell, Wright in Rio de Janeiro, it was not comforting; it was \"of a nature to engage deeply the attention of every landholder in a slave holding state. The evil long feared has now commenced; when it is to run we know not. A civil war is bad enough,\" it was said morosely, but a \"servile war\" would only \"extend ... atrocities\"; \"ramifications of this ... extend, but it is reasonably to be feared that they reach at least to Georgia. Not even in Maryland is our position\" secure, it was thought, though \"on this shore, the whites outnumber the blacks.\" The firm had hard questions to answer: \"is it to effect tremendously the value of all real property in the state?\" And if Negroes could rise up in the U.S. South where they were greatly outnumbered, what did this mean for the security of the firm's investments in Brazil where, generally, the reverse was the case?\n\nAs if that were not sufficient bad news, Maxwell, Wright had to contend with \"commercial difficulties\" in the U.S. engendered by the Panic of 1837, which seemed to get \"worse and worse\"; \"if possible, failure of large houses\" would be \"occurring daily in N. York & New Orleans, some in Boston.\" The message to Rio was \"do not take any new risks for the present.\"\n\nYet if Maxwell, Wright could have espied the activities of one of its competitors, it would have encouraged them, perhaps, to become more deeply involved in the African Slave Trade. \"Messrs. Farnham & Fry of Salem, Massachusetts\" had ships sailing from New York where \"these gentlemen\" were \"engaged in commerce under the firm of P.J. Farnham & Co.\" They controlled a \"factory, or storehouse, for some years past on the [African] coast at a place called Ambrise [ _sic_ ], about sixty miles north of Angola and have had vessels engaged in trade there\"; \"Ambrise\" or \"Ambriz\" was \"becoming quite a commercial place\u2014the English having many factories there.\" But \"Ambrise\" was also rapidly becoming a major site for the operation of the African Slave Trade and the Royal Navy had \"reasons to suppose\" that a ship owned by Farnham was \"engaged in the slave traffic.\"\n\nSo how could Maxwell, Wright in a thriving Rio de Janeiro, with Africans flooding in from the Atlantic and Indian Ocean basins, put up a stop sign? If they were to do so, it would only serve to increase profit opportunities for competitors. The possibility of deploying legions of slave laborers was too precious to resist. Moreover, Washington itself was resisting stoutly pressure from London to curtail the African Slave Trade. Quite literally, the nation's capital had become a regional center for this business. One Congressman in 1829 was splenetic in denouncing \"slave dealers, gaining confidence from impunity\" who \"have made the seat of the Federal Government their headquarters,\" not to mention the \"public prisons\" and \"officers of the Federal Government\" who \"have been employed and derived emoluments from carrying on this traffic.\" Though the U.S. was reluctant to send its ships to monitor or halt the slave trade to Brazil, a House Resolution \"directed\" the Secretary of the Navy to \"report if there are a sufficient number of vessels now in commission ... to enable him to extend adequate protection to our commerce to the Empire of Brazils [ _sic_ ] and to the Republic of Buenos Ayres.\" William Wright in Rio may have been violating the instructions of his government if he had resisted the temptation of the African Slave Trade.\n\nStill, the pre-1840s era, with its stories of U.S. nationals streaming into Brazil, hardly prepared this South American nation for what was soon to follow.\n\nBroadside, circa 1835\u201336, condemning the sale and keeping of slaves in the District of Columbia. The internal slave trade in the U.S. literally sold Africans \"down the river,\" from places like Washington in the Upper South to the Lower South. Courtesy Library of Congress.\n\n## **2  \nInto Africa**\n\nU.S. nationals were leaders in fomenting the illicit slave trade and, as a result, permanently transformed Brazil for all time. In doing so, these U.S. nationals\u2014and some from Europe and Brazil\u2014\"acting alone or in conjunction with the bandits, intervened in the affairs of these [African] chiefdoms to provoke conflicts that generated export captives.\" The \"Igbo example clearly shows that slavery and the slave trade were the primary cause of violence in the West African sub-region for over three centuries.\" John C. Lawrence of the U.S.'s African Squadron confided to his diary in December 1844 that slavers \"foment brawls among Chiefs.... it answers a double purpose, that of furnishing the slave market ... as well as affording protection to themselves as the attention of these savages are diverted from the white residents.\"\n\nThe African Slave Trade reached new heights of destruction as it was coming to a close, particularly in terms of violence, as a result of improvements in weaponry. As early as 1837, one Brooklynite had noticed the central role of Brazil in this late stage of the trade, for \"the proximity of this coast to the shores of Africa renders the importation of Negroes to this country extremely easy; with constant and favorable winds, they are enabled to perform the passage in ten or fifteen days, and dispose of their slaves at reasonable prices.\" Fifteen years later, the famed jurist, Joseph Story, pointed to the role of U.S. nationals as being central to the African Slave Trade. \"American citizens are steeped up to their very mouths (I scarcely use too bold a figure) in this stream of iniquity\"; they \"throng to the coasts of Africa under the stained flags of Spain and Portugal, sometimes selling abroad their 'cargoes of despair' and sometimes bringing them into some of our Southern ports.... I wish I could say that New England and New England men were free of this deep pollution\"\u2014but he could not. One of his compatriots acknowledged that because Brazil was \"much nearer to Africa\" than Cuba, \"slavers [could] reach this market much easier and dispose of their human chattels at less risk\"\u2014and, of course, Brazil was a larger market as well. In particular, the troubled combination of U.S. nationals, Brazilian slavery, and a struggling Africa made for a dreadful combination for the latter especially, while fabulously enriching those involved in this unclean enterprise.\n\nSo, what was Washington doing as its nationals were wreaking havoc in Africa and drastically altering the demographic makeup of Brazil? An African Squadron, which like its Brazilian counterpart, was supposed to arrest this seamy traffic across the ocean. However, \"between 1843 and 1861, the squadron captured only eleven slavers and these were released on nominal bail or were tried and let off with negligible fines.... [few] conviction[s] [were] ever handed down by ... American court[s] as a result of the activities of the African Squadron. This was in striking contrast to the British Squadron, which between the years 1839 and 1850 alone seized over seven hundred ships, a number that surpassed the entire merchant marine of many nations.\" In contrast to the U.S., \"the British were energetic in their attempts to suppress the slave trade. Between 1814 and 1850, British naval units seized 169 Bahian ships alone, the vast majority in West African waters.\"\n\nIncreased involvement of U.S. citizens in illegal slave trading to Brazil and Cuba came \"particularly after 1839 when Great Britain authorized its warships to seize slave vessels flying the Brazilian, Spanish and Portuguese flags, thus making the United States the last major Western nation unwilling to permit the boarding and searching of its ships at sea.... U.S. citizens [therefore] offered a wide variety of advantages and services to slave traders. These included swift Baltimore clippers with American crews.\" And then there was the U.S. flag, which was hoisted by pirates of various nationalities, as it proved to be kryptonite as far as a wary London was concerned. By early 1851, one British representative in Philadelphia was moaning that \"two thirds of the slavers which reach Brazil or Cuba, may be said to owe their safety\" to the U.S. flag, while \"fast sailing vessels\"\u2014some constructed with British capital in \"New York, Baltimore, Philadelphia\"\u2014were similarly de rigueur in this nasty business.\n\nIt was not as if this soiled commerce was unknown to the authorities. For example, in May 1857, a newspaper in the ship-building center of Bath, Maine reported blandly that \"the schooner Evangeline, now in New York, built in Prospect [Maine], in 1855 and owned by Captain Pittman of Brewer [Maine], who commands her, is strongly suspected of being a slaver.\" Before that, the U.S. brig \"Excellent\" sailed into Rio de Janeiro in March 1850. \"William Temple, the first mate, was a known slaver\"; he and the \"master Bruce McKinney ... swore that the 'Excellent' was bound for California, obtained the ship's papers necessary to clear Rio\" but, typically, went to Ambriz on the west coast of Africa instead. \"Slave traders took an average of 40,000 slaves from Africa each year for 420 years,\" says the writer, Pegram Harrison. \"The magnitude of these numbers place in perspective the lack of commitment of the United States Government and the Navy Department to suppress the African slave trade and ultimately bring it to an end.\"\n\nAs early as 1828, the premier African-American periodical, **Freedom's Journal** had found that \"this horrible traffic in human flesh\" was borne by \"sharp built brigs or schooners, constructed in the United States and sent out to Brazil and sold for that purpose.... it made my heart sick to behold this miserable spectacle.\" Frederick Douglass was one among many who held in contempt his nation's attempt to halt the illegal trade to Brazil. He denounced the \"inefficiency of our preventive squadrons and the impunity with which the nefarious traffic is prosecuted under our flag.\" The U.S. Minister, he said in 1853, had \"sent nearly thirty dispatches to the State Department without receiving an answer to one of them\" about this pressing matter. There was a trade in \"horses and cattle,\" said Douglass, from the \"Cape of Good Hope to Rio\" but after they \"clear at the Cape for Brazil.... they tumble overboard the less valuable animals, and proceed to convenient points to secure bipeds.\" His newspaper published a story by Horace Greeley reporting from Bahia, observing that the \"slave trade ... is carried on here extensively, from the Coast of Africa\"; \"we hear,\" said the New York\u2013based writer, \"that the Baltimorean-built pilot boat 'Henry Clay' is now gone on her eleventh voyage to the coast of Africa for slaves in four years she has been owned here, and that she made in that time over $300,000 for her owners.... some 10 or 12 vessels are engaged in the business from this place alone and probably four times as many more from different ports of this very extensive Empire.\"\n\nTwo of the key Brazilians who spearheaded the illegal slave trade\u2014Manuel Pinto da Fonseca and Bernardino de Sa\u2014\"were known partially to have financed U.S. slave ships and to have sold slaves brought to Brazil by U.S. slavers. U.S. diplomats in Rio de Janeiro in the 1840s considered these two men the most notorious slave dealers in the city at the time.\" Surely during the critical decade of the 1840s, when the unlawful trade was reaching new heights in Brazil, U.S. nationals seemed to be ubiquitous. With a crafty ingenuity, these nationals employed devious tactics to smuggle Africans to Brazil. \"'The Sooy,'\" for example, was of \"American build\" and had \"on her stern the 'eagle' carved and painted large letters 'Sooy of Newport.'\" She had \"sailed from the port of Bahia under the American flag, with an American crew on board, for a port on the coast of Africa, the master and crew should leave her; which they did, and she was surrendered to the captain and crew of a slave-dealer there, who landed on the coast of Brazil\" with hundreds of enslaved Africans. Another dizzying switch involved the \"Sea Eagle\" and the \"Agnes\" which arrived in Cabinda simultaneously. \"Brazilian passengers who were taken out\" in the former were transferred to the latter, then \"Negro slaves were berthed\" on the renamed \"Agnes\" though it lacked \"any regular slave deck,\" so they were \"berthed on these mats.\" The \"American flag\" was \"hauled down and papers taken off and [its] name erased or painted over\" and \"she sailed on or about the 7th of September 1844, with about 500 slaves, and landed them on the coast of Brazil, near Cape Frio.\" The U.S. crew \"were transferred to the 'Sea Eagle,' which vessel remained at Cabinda until after the arrival\" of the renamed \"Agnes.\"\n\nOften during this era, U.S. crews would sail ships to Africa, then turn the ship over to Brazilians\u2014or Portuguese or Spaniards\u2014after the vessel was loaded down with Africans. At times U.S. whalers would engage in freelance slave trading, grabbing whatever Africans that were in reach, when dropping anchor in Cape Verde, for example.\n\nIn 1847, the British diplomat in Rio de Janeiro, Lord Howden, complained about such tactics observing that \"it is the custom to ship the [U.S.] crew which brought this vessel to Africa, aboard some other [U.S.] vessel not intended to take slaves back to Brazil, and which may thus be searched without risk by a [U.S.] cruiser; this confederate vessel often serving also as a decoy to lead these cruisers astray. The first of these vessels lands its cargo of slaves somewhere on the Brazilian coast and then returns to Rio in ballast, while the second vessel enters there direct with the former crew ready for another passage and with the very few articles of commerce afforded by the slave districts in Africa.\" Ships often had \"two owners and two nationalities\" and \"two sets of papers.... she will be American while going to the coast of Africa and Brazilian when returning from it.\"\n\nAt other times, U.S. slavers were disguised as whalers, on one occasion in 1849 in conjunction with Manuel Pinto da Fonseca, a New Bedford\u2013based vessel brought \" _eleven hundred and fifty Negroes_ \" [emphasis-original] in various voyages to Brazil; \"in the event of falling in with an American cruiser, [she] would hoist the Brazilian flag\u2014if an English cruiser, the American flag and thus avoid capture.\" The captain hailed from \"Dartmouth near New Bedford.\" As the Civil War approached, Britain took note of the U.S. ship \"'Atlantic,'\" another slaver disguised as a whaler. Naturalized U.S. citizens from New Bedford of Portuguese origin were the owners; their firm was \"Abranches, Almeida and Co.\" It was \"suspected ... she would proceed to the Mozambique Channel,\" though it \"next turned up [in] the Bahamas as the 'America'\" where it was wrecked in an attempt to send Africans to Cuba.\n\nIt was hard for legitimate commerce to compete with the banned trade. One commander of the African Squadron complained that in Luanda, Angola, \"wealth and prosperity\" were dependent on the slave trade. In 1848, the amount of goods entered for the legal trade, amounted to about ninety thousand dollars; and at the same time, there were smuggled goods for the purposes of the slave trade, \"amounting to the sum of eight hundred thousand dollars.\"\n\nThe authorities complained constantly about the deviousness of the slavers. As the leading Washington official, Abel P. Upshur, put it, their \"cunning\" was astonishing; they were \"constantly devising new disguises and schemes of deception, by which he may elude detection and escape the consequences of his crimes.... they take especial care to put on the appearance of honest traders, and to be always prepared as if engaged in pursuits of lawful commerce.\" They paid sailors more than, say, whalers, or the merchant marine. Upshur, however, conceded that his country did \"not regard the success of their efforts as their paramount interest nor as their paramount duty,\" which was as explanatory of the success of these slavers as their craftiness.\n\nThis guile was aided immeasurably by natural factors. \"Pursuit\" of slavers \"could only occur eight out of twenty-four hours, somewhere between dawn and 2 P.M. Darkness thwarted all efforts at capture; the culprits were fully aware that cruisers would not commence chase after midafternoon. Thus, the remaining sixteen hours belonged to them.\" Some U.S. vessels in West Africa would light a \"triangular fire lit on a height, two fires apart at the base and one on the top of the hill, forming the triangle. The meaning was slaves are ready with canoes on beach: a number of flashes, of which six were counted, indicated the number 600 slaves. The slaver's signal on arrival at night on the date appointed for shipping, consists of a triangular blue, white and green light hoisted in the rigging. There are numerous distant signals for communicating with the offing.\"\n\nBy dint of such measures, Africans were pouring into Brazil in the 1840s, often transported on ships bearing U.S. flags. Things had gotten so bad that the U.S. missionary, the Reverend J. Leighton Wilson, who was posted to Gabon during this time lost hope that this traffic in human beings would ever end. \"The opinion has long been entertained by many sincere friends of Africa,\" he said despairingly, \"that so long as the demand for slaves in Brazil is so great, it will be impossible to break up the slave-trade by any forcible measures.\" The only solution he could conjure up was a radical free trade in Africans: \"the most certain and effectual way of breaking it up [i.e., the slave trade] will be to let the Brazilians have unlimited access to the coast of Africa, and so glut their own markets that slaves will become comparatively useless.\"\n\nFor a while, it seemed that the Reverend Wilson's musing was becoming reality. A member of the Royal Navy discovered to his dismay that \"slaves were sold on the coast of Africa in 1847 for a mere song\u2014an old musket was considered too much\u2014while in the Brazils they realized 50 [pounds] a-piece.\" Hence, \"owing to the great demand for slaves in the Brazils, the speculators are fitting out large steamers capable, it is said, of carrying three thousand slaves. These vessels are armed, and two only have as yet been captured,\" concluded Lieutenant Forbes in 1849. \"Slave merchants employ boats to a distance of forty out at sea, to watch the cruisers, and, incredible as it may appear, yet it is no less a fact, that one of [Britain's] ships was actually reported to that distance daily by whale-boats.\" \"The number of these slave depots on the coast between the Isle Sherbro and Gaboon [ _sic_ ],\" said John C. Lawrence of the U.S. African Squadron in 1844, \"is really incredible when we consider how well it is scoured by vessels of war\"; rather brazenly, \"there was not the least concealment made.\"\n\nUnderstandably, there was considerable focus on Angola, the chief Portuguese colony in West Africa, which was a fertile source of enslaved Africans for Brazil. British and, at times, U.S. vessels sailed southward to monitor this vast land, along with the adjoining region of Cabinda and the mouth of the Congo River. But often ignored was Portugal's colony in East Africa, Mozambique, which increasingly was being raided for slaves as the attention of the anti-bondage authorities was directed westward. Scholar, Abdul Sheriff, attests that \"the TransAtlantic slave trade from Mozambique to Brazil revived after the shift of the Portuguese court to Rio de Janeiro\" and \"especially in the 1820s when up to 16,000 slaves were exported in a single year.\" \"We have little knowledge of the details respecting the slave trade on the Eastern Coast of Africa,\" U.S. Secretary of State, Daniel Webster, was informed in 1842; \"the field of operations to carry on the slave trade is so extensive, the profits so great and the obstacles in the path so many, so various, so difficult\" to scrutinize that the authorities complained that they were at a loss when the slavers turned eastward. Five years later, a British emissary in South Africa was complaining that \"the Slave Trade has recently increased on the east side of the coast.... some of the speculations of that nature which were carried on on the west coast of Africa have been transferred to the Mozambique Channel,\" allowing \"vessels, almost all of which go to Rio [de] Janeiro escape without capture.\" In 1848, London's man in Rio, James Hudson conceded that \"at no period during the history of the Brazilian Slave Trade have so many dealers left Brazil as of late for Africa to purchase slaves; at no time have so many vessels been employed in this traffic.\" So, where were the vessels obtaining enslaved Africans? \"The larger share of orders for slaves,\" he said, \"has been sent to the Mozambique coast, because the Rio slave-traders have learnt that that part of Africa is less guarded than the Western Coast.\" Characteristically, \"the vessels\" arrived in Mozambique \"with American colors, under which they remain until the slave cargo is prepared and other arrangements for receiving the same completed.... when all is ready the American colours are hauled down\" and \"Brazilian colours or ... none at all\" were displayed. Facilitating East Africa's path toward becoming a major preserve for the hunting of Africans, was the fact that \"the Governors of Ibo and Quillimane\" were \"notoriously engaged in aiding and assisting in the traffic and further\" it was \"more than suspected that the Governor-General of Mozambique is himself in collusion with slave-dealers and that he has received large sums of money on several occasions for contriving at the dereliction of duty on the part of his subordinates.\"\n\nOne of the most infamous episodes that implicated eastern Africa was only exposed when the slaver in question landed in Brazil and was detained: The man who became Pedro Parris was born of \"full blooded native African parents somewhere on the eastern coast of Africa\" in \"about 1833.\" When he was \"about ten years old\" a \"terrible uproar arose in the night and as his father stepped out of the hut to learn the cause[,] he was struck down. The terrified family scattered, attempting to escape as best they could in the confusion and darkness.\" But Parris was \"taken. The last he saw of his family that night was his grandmother screaming on a large rock on which she had sought refuge as he was being hurried away.\" The captives were kept on a forced march that entire night and in the morning he found that his three brothers also had been seized. He never saw or heard of the rest of his family again, however. With other captives, he was on the march for several weeks before being taken to the island of Zanzibar. Unclear as to what had befallen him, he\u2014along with some of the other captives\u2014felt \"they were to be eaten.\" Here he \"first saw a white man,\" who was quite \"harsh\" \"beating\" him and others in order to \"hasten\" his acquisition of the Portuguese language, which \"would bring a higher price.\" Finally, he was \"sold\" to a \"Captain Paulo who bought a full cargo of slaves and shipped them\" to Rio de Janeiro, Brazil \"on the vessel of Captain Libby of Portland, Maine.\" In Zanzibar he \"had been named Pedro.\"\n\nHowever, \"the sailors on Libby's vessel had not shipped as slavers, and were much enraged when they discovered what [traffic] they had been drawn into.\" Hence, in Rio the U.S. Consul discovered what had happened and the captors and \"Pedro\" \"were taken\" to \"Portland by an American warship then at Rio under charge of slaving,\" where they were \"indicted.\" \"Pedro\" was a chief witness against the defendants and, along with a number of other young African boys, was taken in by families in Maine, a state that was to become his home. Thus, in 1856, when George Gordon\u2014who had served as Consul in Rio\u2014ran for Governor of Massachusetts as a \"Know-Nothing,\" he \"needed something to check the trend of abolitionists\" toward the recently formed Republican Party; he \"sought out Pedro and employed him for six weeks making campaign speeches for Gordon\"; so inspired, \"Pedro Parris\" sought to become a \"ventriloquist.\"\n\nThe trial of the perpetrators of this kidnapping masquerading as commerce was revelatory. The man who became \"Pedro Parris\" had been brought from East Africa on a ship owned by George Richardson of New Orleans and financed in part by Maxwell, Wright of Baltimore and Brazil and Manuel Pinto da Fonseca of Rio de Janeiro. There was also a New England connection as the Captain, Cyrus Libby, hailed from \"Scarborough in the County of Cumberland\" in Maine, as did the vessel's owner, Richardson, who formerly resided there. Another owner of this vessel, the \"Porpoise,\" was Adams Bailey, Jr., a Boston merchant.\n\nQuestioned in 1845, Libby was incredulous, arguing that \"the first I knew of the boys being on board was when we were about half way ... from [Mozambique] ... when I saw the said boy on deck, at play with other boys, unconfined and at perfect liberty,\" playing \"with the son of the pilot,\" who too was a \"black man\"; the Captain was not overly disturbed, since he \"then believed and now believes that said boy was the son of said pilot and free and not a slave.\" \"I do suppose and believe,\" he swore, \"that these boys were free & not held by any person as slaves, that they went over to Rio Janeiro to be educated and then to be sent back to the coast, as is customary.\" \"I was entirely deceived and defrauded,\" he charged. But his incredulity was hard to accept in light of the prominent role in his enterprise of Maxwell, Wright, known to be involved in the banned trade, which instructed him in Rio that \"after leaving this port, you will please follow the instructions of Mr. Antonio de Luis da Cunha, on board, as far as your charter party will permit you to do so.\" The latter was the agent of Fonseca and it was clear that his role on board ship was major.\n\nOn the other hand, Libby's story was not entirely unbelievable. There were Negro crew members on board his vessel, which could bolster his alibi that he thought \"Pedro Parris\" was not a slave. Mark Tanner, a self-described \"colored man,\" was 24 and born in Bristol, Rhode Island. But he would not substantiate Libby's tale, asserting that when they arrived from New England in Brazil before heading for East Africa, he \"asked for his discharge but Captain Libby would not give it to him.\"\n\nBut then there was another \"colored man\" on board, Peter Johnson, who was the \"cook and steward.\" Born in Kingston, New York and 29 at the time of his 1845 deposition, he joined the vessel in Rio in early 1844. Unlike Tanner, he could \"understand\" and \"speak\" Portuguese \"imperfectly,\" to the point that he could comprehend \"common conversation.\" Ashore in Mozambique, while at the so-called slave \"factory, some of the slaves were walking about and some sitting down; others were standing up.... males were chained together; the women with chains around their necks.\" However, Johnson had other things on his mind that did not necessarily include the chief witness against Libby, i.e., \"Pedro Parris.\" \"Deponent asked one of the Portuguese crew about a large good looking woman[,] he said that she was one that Paulo had just bought.\" Johnson did notice, however, that \"all the Negroes ... had been branded, either upon the breast or the back of the shoulder and the brand wounds were then raw.\" Evidently Johnson did not choose to remark on the irony of his being now enmeshed in the most fetid and squalid of slave raiding while being part of a group\u2014U.S. Negroes\u2014that were largely the product of a similar process.\n\nOf course, the crew was hardly comprised wholly of U.S. Negroes, though like Tanner and Johnson, most hailed from the Northeast, especially New York, Rhode Island, and Maine. There was Charles Hendricks, for example, who was born in Sweden\u2014but had \"never been naturalized\"\u2014and had sailed from the U.S. for nine years before being detained by the authorities for slaving. He placed Libby at the scene of the crime and added for good measure that \"Manoel Pinto of Rio\" was likewise involved. His countryman, John Williams, 24, was also a \"native of Sweden\" but was considerably less garrulous.\n\nBut the most damaging testimony came from another African boy, known as \"Guilheme\" or \"George Williams.\" He was \"colored or mulatto\" and thought to be 14 (his mother, he said, was a \"white woman\" and his \"father was black\"). Born near \"Inhambane\" in Mozambique, he was sold and wound up on the \"Porpoise\" where the crew \"threatened us at sea\u2014that if we did not do everything well we should be flogged on shore at Rio.\" Many of his relatives were \"murdered\" in the process of capturing him\u2014including his \"father and mother\"\u2014but still he \"did not want to go\" but was compelled. \"Captain Libby named him George Williams\" and took him on a journey from eastern Africa to S\u00e3o Tom\u00e9, then to \"Cabinda\" and from there to Brazil. A crew member \"threatened to sell him\" all the while, though Libby himself never \"called him his slave.\" He witnessed the buying of slaves in Mozambique. Like \"Parris,\" \"George Williams\" was inclined to return to Africa but he added poignantly, \"I'm afraid of being made a slave again. I would rather go in this very ship,\" speaking of the U.S. naval vessel that was to take him to New England to testify against Libby, \"to the United States.\"\n\n\"Pedro Parris\" also did not help Libby's case. He was told after being captured and enslaved that \"when any person should ask me, to answer that I was free.... I was branded on the breast\" to sanctify this reality. Like, \"George Williams,\" he too expressed a fervent \"wish to be a free man and go to the United States.\"\n\n\"The whole experience of the trials,\" Captain Libby cried out, \"will not fall short of $2500.\" This would involve \"stripping him of every farthing he had on earth and even taking,\" said the sympathetic reporter, \"the old homestead from his aged and widowed mother\"\u2014and this was not to mention the accompanying \"ten seamen, government witnesses\" who were \"confined in jail.\"\n\nUnfortunately, many Africans did not have the kind of happy ending endured by \"Pedro Parris\"\u2014rescued and sent to a new life in the U.S. Such was the fate of another U.S. flagged slaver, the \"Kentucky,\" which in 1845 also found itself in Mozambique with 500 potential African slaves aboard. Resisting the fate that awaited them, these Africans \"rose upon the officer and crew; a majority of the men, all of whom were in irons, got their irons off, broke through the bulkhead in the females department.... the Captain armed the crew with cutlasses and got all the muskets and pistols and loaded them and crew were firing down amongst the slaves for half an hour or more.... in about half an hour they were subdued.\" Retaliating, some of the rebels were then \"hung,\" as a \"rope was put around their necks and they were drawn up to the yard-arm clear, of the sail. This did not kill them, but only choked or strangled them. They were then shot in the breast and the bodies thrown overboard,\" while \"the legs of about a dozen were chopped off\"; \"when the feet fell on deck, they were picked up by the Brazilian crew and thrown overboard, irons and all. When the woman was hung up and shot, the ball did not take effect, and she was thrown overboard living, and was seen to struggle some time in the water before she sunk\"; then \"they brought up and flogged about 20 men and six women\" in a fashion described as \"very severe,\" to the point where the floggers \"got tired.\" The \"flesh of some of them where they were flogged ... putrified and came off\" as the Africans writhed in the \"most intense agony. They were a shocking a horrible sight during the whole passage,\" said an eyewitness, a member of the crew; unsurprisingly, \"there was no disturbance on board after this\" on the part of the survivors, mostly \"Negroes ... from nine or 10 up to 30 years.\" This ship, the \"Kentucky,\" was seen as a companion of the \"Porpoise.\"\n\nThe horrible conditions that characterized slave ships sheds light on the level of African resistance. A British emissary in Bahia, a presumed destination for those to be held in bondage, inferentially indicated why when he observed that \"it appears incredible, but it is nevertheless a fact that a ship's long boat manned by three persons and measuring twenty-four feet extreme length, seven feet breadth and only three feet nine inches depth, has arrived here from the coast of Africa, in which fifty miserable children had actually been stowed and thirty-five conducted hither, fifteen having died on the passage. It is more than probable,\" he concluded sadly, \"that every soul on board would have perished for want of water and provisions, had they not been relieved by a merchant vessel when reduced to the last extremity.\" This trade was extraordinarily cruel. A British representative observed that \"for many years\" he had the \"habit of asking the different [enslaved] Africans with whom I have conversed the circumstances under which they were brought; and they, with scarcely any exception, state that they were kidnapped or taken in what they call their wars.\" Many were brought from the continent's interior, marching \"one, two or three months to the coast.\"\n\nMany Africans did not take kindly to the presence of ships flying the U.S. flag in their vicinity. The U.S. brig \"Mary Adeline\" discovered this to its dismay. In the summer of 1852, this vessel was nearing the \"Shark Point, in the River Congo,\" when suddenly it was \"attacked by the Natives.\" These \"savages\" were \"coming down the river in great numbers for the purpose of plundering my vessel,\" said the master of this vessel; \"many of them [were] armed with muskets,\" about \"fifteen hundred of them\" in this category with weapons, including \"spears and cutlasses.\" Some of them were \"furnished with hooks and poles by which to scale the side. I had six muskets and two rifles only on board,\" he continued; \"they suddenly set up a fiendish yell and leveled their muskets at us. We had barely time to cover ourselves before a large volley was fired which fortunately did no other damage than to sails and rigging.\" Riding to the rescue was a British ship that ultimately prevailed; yet, the \"savages with great cunning took advantage of this and again approached in greater numbers than before for another combined attack.... I fired a charge of grape into them,\" he recalled, \"and fortunately killed and wounded a considerable number which had the desired effect of inducing them to retreat.\" Still, but for the serendipitous arrival of a British vessel, \"not one who was on board of my vessel,\" he assured, \"would ever have been heard of again.\" Yes, confirmed the commander of the intervening vessel from Britain, \"[we] defended your vessel from the murderous attack of at least 3000 Natives,\" reminding him that this part of the River Congo was \"always attended with great risk.\"\n\nAs this incident and the perilous voyage of Pedro Parris suggests, there was a considerable traffic in Africans traversing the Atlantic westward and northward. In 1836, the abolitionist David Ruggles was among a group involved \"in an attempt to rescue slaves from a Brazilian ship docked in New York.\"\n\nMahommah Gardo Baquaqua was kidnapped in Africa, brought to Brazil as a slave, then transported to New York City. In Manhattan \"at the dock at the foot of Roosevelt Street, on the East River, local abolitionists, organized loosely as the New York Vigilance Society, approached\" the ship, \"initiating a legal tug-of-war over the fate\" of Baquaqua. He managed to escape bondage but \"by the latter half of 1853 ... it seems that Baquaqua was increasingly disillusioned with United States society.... 'I did not like to stay in this country,'\" he said.\n\nBorn in Central Africa, Baquaqua\u2014a Muslim\u2014was the slavers' nightmare, proudly proclaiming in 1854 that he was \"stirring up the colored population and agitating for the abolition of slavery all over the world.\" What had led him to this revolutionary posture was his experience, enticed to drink an intoxicating beverage in Africa, before being taken prisoner and taken to Pernambuco. He was forced into a form of alien worship\u2014\"we all had to kneel before them,\" i.e., slave-owners; \"whilst worshipping,\" he said, \"my master held a whip in his hand and those who showed signs of inattention or drowsiness were immediately brought to consciousness by a smart application of the whip. This mostly fell to the lot of the female slave.\" Taken to Rio de Janeiro, he was almost sold to a \"colored man.\" \"I merely mention this fact,\" said Baquaqua, \"to illustrate that slaveholding is generated in power ... and that the colored man would as soon enslave his fellow man as the white man, had he the power.\" He worked on a ship and reinforced there was what \"we all had learned,\" i.e., that \"at New York there was no slavery; that it was a free country,\" where he finally attained a form of freedom.\n\nThe Tucker Family of South Carolina was engaged heavily in shipping goods to California via Brazil; so it may not have been surprising in the summer of 1848 when a \"Negro runaway,\" a \"well dressed\" slave with \"plenty of clothes and some money\" was found on one of these voyages; the captain's \"first impulse was to turn back, in hopes of finding some vessel bound to Carolina or Georgia to put him on board\" but decided to continue; it was unclear if this stowaway made it to California\u2014or Brazil.\n\nNevertheless, the enormous profits of this trade guaranteed that the slavers would continue their dirty business. Speaking from Rio in 1848, one British diplomat declared awestruck that \"the profits are enormous.... Portuguese in this city who arrived here a pauper and [were] now worth half a million sterling at least, all made in the Slave Trade\"; this \"army of slave dealers never wants recruits.\" It fed corruption, bribing of officials, not to mention \"many thousands of white men [who] must be employed in watching\" slaves; \"the more valuable labour of a certain number of whites must be abstracted from the service of the country,\" providing further basis for the potent idea that the African Slave Trade was suffocating Brazil in the long-term.\n\nYet attempts to seize Africans for slavery continued. In the late spring of 1847, the Royal Navy, which concentrated mostly in western Africa, found the time to send \"four boats up the River Angazha [ _sic_ ]\" in Mozambique to \"take or destroy such ... vessels as may be there found, engaged in the traffic and commerce of slaves.\" Their intelligence was timely and actionable for on the \"approach\" of their vessels, \"a slave brig was set on fire by the persons on board\u2014the 'Lucy Penniman,' an American barque was also at anchor here: on the officer boarding her, the remaining (she having lost a boat's crew a few days before) crew came forward and stated that they had been illegally employed in the Slave Trade against their will.\" Another time the British were not as lucky for as they approached the slaver in the waters of eastern Africa, they \"were fired upon by a number of persons from the bushes, which were not more than thirty yards off.... the Captain claimed the protection of the American flag\" while \"the crew had come forward to ask our protection, they being in fear of their lives.\"\n\nEven Lisbon, lax in the best of times, was becoming concerned about the increasing encroachments of U.S. slavers in what they deemed to be their territory. Cases proliferated of U.S. flagged vessels \"not having cleared from Rio de Janeiro for any certain and definite port on the eastern or western coast of Portuguese Africa\" and suspected of being involved in the \"contraband trade and in the illicit traffic in slaves.\"\n\nWashington's representative in Lisbon was displeased with Portugal's displeasure. \"Her crew and passengers were thrown into prison,\" said J. B. Clay, U.S. Charg\u00e9s d'Affaires in Lisbon, referring to U.S. nationals, and \"remained some eleven months\" incarcerated where \"her captain and first mate died as is believed from starvation.\" This was an outrage: \"no nation has a right,\" he said accusingly, \"to seize and condemn them if they be taken on the high seas, although brim full of slaves from neck to kelson, save their own. The general law of nations does not condemn the slave trade,\" he insisted. Anyway, the ship was not engaged in the slave trade and, besides, Portuguese law in Mozambique could not apply to the U.S., not least since this vessel was actually in the waters under the jurisdiction of the \"Moorish Sultan,\" closer to Zanzibar than Mozambique.\n\nBlack female slaves in Brazil, circa 1830s, from various ethnic groups, reflecting different styles of dress and adornment. U.S. slave dealers ventured not only to western Africa but also to eastern areas such as Mozambique. Courtesy Library of Congress.\n\nIt was not as if Lisbon was that concerned with the buying and kidnapping of Africans\u2014after all, they had done more than their share in this grimy realm; there was a graver concern that Washington, even then considerably larger and more powerful than this Iberian nation, had designs on their closed markets and spheres of influence, from South America to Africa.\n\nLisbon was livid about the routine snatching of Africans from Cape Verde by U.S. whalers, compelling the U.S. Secretary of State to apologize. Then there was the irksome \"case of the slave brig 'Susan'\" which led to a Portuguese claim of \"$22,701.24 in behalf of the 'Portuguese passengers' captured ... in that brig and brought into the port of New York.\" This was \"'an American built brig with a crew of Portuguese and Brazilians'\" that was \"'bound directly to the slave coast of Africa'\" then, presumably, to Brazil. The son of Portugal's \"Consul General\" in New York represented \"'some of the parties, passengers of the Susan,'\" which raised questions about Lisbon's official posture about slaving\u2014a nagging question that Lisbon also had about Washington. Like an old married couple that desperately needed counseling, Lisbon began dredging up past grievances to fling in Washington's face, such as incidents that occurred years earlier during the time of Brazil's struggle for independence when ships \"owned\" by U.S. nationals captured Portuguese ships. Lisbon remained angry about this. In so many words, Washington replied that this was too bad.\n\nIn a sense this was a phony conflict, for on the larger question of the criminal slave trade, Lisbon may have been more unenthusiastic than Washington in seeing this enterprise end. In 1847, as the raids in Portuguese East Africa increased tremendously, London complained that the \"Portuguese government had instructed the Governor-General of Mozambique to revoke the permission which he had granted Her Majesty's ships employed in the Mozambique Channel\" in order to \"act against that [slave] traffic.\" Since \"great facilities exist towards carrying on the Slave Trade on the east coast of Africa,\" this would \"give great encouragement to the Slave Trade.\" The Mixed Commission at the Cape of Good Hope, which was designed by London to crackdown on this unlawful commerce, should have been overworked in the late 1840s if Portugal had desired to cooperate in seizing slavers. Instead, it was found that \"no case has been brought before them for adjudication during the year ending December 31, 1848 and that no Negroes have been emancipated by Decree of this Mixed Commission since its establishment.\" Typically, in 1851, when Francisco dos Santos Tavares was a \"prisoner of the Mixed Commission Court,\" apparently on charges of slave trading, this Lusophone national managed to \"escape,\" as he \"deceived the Mixed Commission as to the departure of the said Tavares in the American vessel 'Sacramento.'\"\n\nIt was left to the South African press to ascertain that it was \"evident that a flourishing slave-trade is now being carried on in this quarter, not directly from Delagoa Bay or Inhambane [East Africa] but chiefly from points on the coast, between the Portuguese settlements and undoubtedly with the connivance of the authorities there. Cape Corrientes, between Delagoa Bay and Inhambane is the chief seat of the trade\" and there was \"not a sign of an English cruiser upon the whole northeast coast.\"\n\nBut what about U.S. \"cruisers\"? The record is mixed: basically there were some conscientious U.S. Navy men operating within the confines of a fatally flawed policy. For example, in 1850, George Stoner of the Brazil Squadron told the Secretary of the Navy, \"I have uniformly used every means in my power to obtain information\" about the \"slave trade\" but the \"British Minister\" in Rio said that the \"authorities of the United States in Brazil have not continued to exert the same degree of vigilance as before\"\u2014though he thought this was \"entirely destitute of foundation of truth.\" No, he insisted, the problem actually was \"the want of small steamers and sailing vessels capable of overhauling at sea and of pursuing\" slavers, not to mention the \"numerous smaller ports\" slavers could draw upon. \"Vessels suitable to operate against them have been withdrawn from the station and not replaced, notwithstanding my repeated representations to the Department.\" This led to \"prostitution of our flag.\"\n\nWilliam Graham, Secretary of the Navy, comrade of Matthew Maury and fan of his plans for the Amazon, did not demur, though Stoner had to realize, Graham thought, that there were other issues beyond chasing down slavers. Relations between Brazil and Buenos Ayres had \"assumed a more threatening appearance ... war seems inevitable\" and the navy had to think about protecting U.S. interests in this vital region\u2014yet \"the present naval force here will prove very inadequate to the proper protection of our interests,\" so a \"small steamer would under such circumstances prove a most efficient addition to the squadron.\"\n\nSo, Graham with one hand endorsed Stoner's goal for small steamers and with the upper hand suggested that ships could be put to better use than tracking down slave vessels. Rather than cooperating with London on handcuffing the unlawful slave trade, there was an instinct in Washington to act, instead, as a counterweight to this power.\n\nOther U.S. Navy men were not as conscientious as Stoner. Andrew Boyd Cummings, for example, took a fancy to \"Negro dance houses\" of S\u00e3o Tom\u00e9, West Africa, and mused about recruiting musicians there for similar establishments back home\u2014\"what a glorious speculation it would [be],\" he enthused, \"to hire this whole party & to transport them to New Orleans\"\u2014and had a penchant for becoming embroiled in untidy disputes in Angola involving U.S. nationals, as opposed to halting the trade in human beings. He was exultant about the \"prospect of bombardment\" of Benguela, as a result of this matter, \"it would have been a little excitement for us\"\u2014though no such aggression seemed to be generated by the African Slave Trade.\n\nLikewise, in Angola, Britain's representative there thought he had detected an \"alteration\" in the \"tone\" of U.S. \"Commodore Lavallette\" when he spoke with him as the fall of 1851 approached. \"On the subject of the slave trade and the prevalent feeling in the United States respecting it,\" it was indicated that \"this would be their [U.S.] last appearance in this latitude and that the Squadron was to be withdrawn; trusting to other measures such as Colonization and the establishment of a line of steamers between the United States and Liberia for the accomplishment of the desired end.... this end, however, seemed to be less the suppression of the Traffic, or even the Prevention of the abuse of the American flag than the relieving [of] the United States of their free black population, which, whether, voluntarily or otherwise, must, it was said, be got rid of.\"\n\nBy this juncture, Britain had escalated its tactics against the African Slave Trade. \"We have captured and burnt Brazilian ships in sight almost of this capital,\" said a British emissary in 1850 and, surprisingly, he added, \"we have one half of the daily newspapers in this capital in our favor.\" Things had gotten so bad that \"American holders of vessels built for [the] Slave Trade and brought here for speculation, cannot find purchasers for them.\" \"The number of Africans imported as slaves into Brazil had greatly diminished,\" said this same emissary, James Hudson, one year later; this was accompanied by the \"arrival of white artisans,\" whose numbers had \"greatly increased.\" Moreover, a number of Africans, 400 free \"men\" from \"the interior of Congo even to Mozambique on the south\" wanted to leave Brazil and \"settle at or near Ambriz.\" The \"appearance\" in Brazil of \"yellow fever in 1849\u201350 was attributed to the arrival of slaves from East Africa. A public outcry against their import resulted in a radical drop in the number of slaves brought in by slave vessels. An annual figure of [imports] of 60,000 at 1850 was soon reduced to a few thousands by 1853.\" London was placing so much pressure on Brazil in 1850, that the visiting U.S. midshipman, Andrew Boyd Cummings, found \"there was quite an excitement here for a while against the English, so great indeed that it was even dangerous for an Englishman to be seen in the street for a while.\"\n\nThis woodcut, which originally appeared in the U.S. abolitionist organ, _The Liberator,_ accompanied an article written in 1832 protesting the African Slave Trade to Brazil. Slaves were occasionally thrown overboard by slave dealers who wished to escape payment of an importation tax, or who wished to get rid of evidence of illegal slaving. Courtesy Library of Congress.\n\n## **3  \nBuying and Kidnapping Africans**\n\nCoffee was the driving force behind the stunning growth of the enslaved population of Brazil in the 19th century and U.S. nationals were a prime motor pushing Africans across the Atlantic from the late 18th century through the late 1840s. As the taste for this beverage grew among refined palates in Europe and North America, the demand for slaves grew accordingly, particularly among the coffee planters of the Paraiba Valley. Factors were at play limiting import of slaves in other regions; thus, 1848 \"marked the beginning of an extended lull. That year, slave revolts in Martinique, St. Croix and Puerto Rico along with the appointment of Puerto Rico's first abolitionist governor (after the revolts), combined to discourage further importation of slaves.\" This served to augment the importance of Brazil as a market for enslaved Africans and, correspondingly, was keeping certain U.S. nationals quite busy. Yet this unity of interest between and among certain forces in the U.S., Brazil, and Africa was contested, particularly in North America which created strains that eventuated in Civil War. It was also contested by the U.K., which by seeking to half the illicit slave trade was also interrupting a profitable commerce in agricultural commodities\u2014to the benefit of London, alleged its critics. This chapter will detail the extensive involvement of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade to Brazil, particularly in the 1840s, along with the ineffectual efforts by Washington to halt it. As the decade wore on, this trafficking in human beings was becoming a big business that was enticing foreign nationals to adopt U.S. citizenship so that they could better take advantage of the immense profitability that was being generated. Meanwhile, London vainly sought to stem what seemed to be an inexorable tide.\n\nOne British emissary had \"received authentic information that upwards of twenty thousand slaves had been surreptitiously landed in the Brazilian territories within the last four months of the year 1842\" alone and this was just the beginning of a decade-long trend. Some U.S. nationals were smuggling Africans to Brazil to produce coffee that was then exported in substantial amounts to the U.S. Ships in turn would return to Rio de Janeiro with finished goods, also lumber and candles. This was a virtuous circle\u2014for some\u2014and a nightmare for others, principally Africans.\n\nBut for British pressure, the number of Africans flooding into Brazil may have been substantially larger. It was the weight of London that led in 1835 to a so-called equipment clause in a global treaty; that is, \"on the basis of chains, excessive rations, superfluous shelves in the hold, and other indications, the clause permitted the capture and adjudication of slave ships without slaves on board.\" Similar pressure from London led to the Webster-Ashburton Treaty of 1842, whereby Washington was obliged to station a naval squadron on the West African coast. Of course, Salem merchants had long since established a base in the open back door that was East Africa\u2014and, in any event, this team was sited in Cape Verde, \"far from the most important slave trading areas; few American cruisers ever ventured as far as the Congo or Angola.\" This was a \"'sham patrol.'\"\n\nFurthermore, those actually caught in the act had little to worry about. \"Of 96 prosecutions between 1839 and 1862 executed under the pretext of the slave trade acts only 12 (12.5 percent) returned guilty verdicts where the convicted slaver was given a judicial punishment ... of 95 slave ships seized for suspected engagement in the slave trade between 1837 and 1862, in only 56 (58.9 percent) cases were the craft condemned (found guilty) and the master forced to face some sort of adjudication.\" U.S. courts and the U.S. Navy \"were notoriously soft on the international slave trade.\n\nLondon was not the only force pushing for the end of this horrible traffic. In 1839, the Massachusetts Senate pressed the U.S. Congress to adopt more stringent measures against this business, not least since the ships carrying these human cargoes were almost all of U.S. construction, it was reported. Stricter laws were needed since \"the several acts of Congress\" were \"if not actually a mere dead letter, at any rate, almost entirely ineffectual\"; \"several years have elapsed since a single armed ship of the United States, with instructions to cruise for and capture such vessels ... have ever been known to have made even a transient visit to the western coat of Africa.\"\n\nYet even these paltry efforts inflamed certain elements among the slaveholding elite in the U.S. John C. Calhoun \"exerted a decisive influence over the foreign policy of the United States\" for \"forty years\"; his son was \"married to the daughter of Duff Green,\" another power at Foggy Bottom, which magnified the influence of both families. Calhoun, a renowned son of the South Carolina slaveholder class, had long thought that Brazil was \"a most important section of our [ _sic_ ] Continent, in the condition of which every one, who looks to the future must take a lively interest,\" and he was not happy when London began to lean on the U.S., compelling this nation to do something about its slave pirates. \"Next to the United States,\" considered the powerful politician, \"Brazil is the most wealthy, the greatest and most firmly established of all the American powers. Between her and us there is a strict identity of interest on almost all subjects, without conflict, or even competition, on scarcely one.\" Calhoun thought that \"to destroy\" slavery in either \"would facilitate its destruction in the other. Hence our mutual interest in resisting [London's] interference with the relation in either country.\" He advocated a staunch and strict international solidarity with Brazil\u2014not least since this was in the self-interest of the Slave South. To be sure, his defense of Brazil was mostly on the basis of slavery, more so than the slave trade, but in context this often amounted to a distinction without a difference.\n\nCalhoun also felt that the defense of slavery and the slave trade would forestall something akin to a \"race war.\" If London prevailed, \"we must look not to Jamaica but to St. Domingo for an example. The change would be followed by unforgiving hate between the two races & end in a bloody & deadly struggle between them for the superiority. One or the other would have to be subjugated,\" it \"would be calamitous beyond description.\" The fates of the U.S., Brazil, and Cuba were linked inextricably as a result, for a setback in one could lead to catastrophes in the others. Calhoun repeatedly referred to these three nations as if they were one unit.\n\nAs he saw it, London's pressure on both Brazil and the U.S. was just part of an elaborate plot to \"maintain its preeminence\" by undermining its rivals. London was contemplating \"force\" and this \"blow\" would \"first be struck at the [U.S.], Brazil and other slaveholding countries\"\u2014and the \"reason\" was \"obvious,\" i.e., \"to give her a monopoly of the great staples they produce, and through them, a monopoly of the trade of the world.\" Since its abolitionist measures of the 1830s, London could not compete with slave labor and, thus, was compelled to extinguish human bondage altogether\u2014or so thought Calhoun. \"Let England succeed with Brazil\" with its anti-bondage pressure and next \"she will coerce emancipation in Cuba,\" then the U.S, thought the Dixie diplomat, Duff Green. Their ideological counteroffensive \"should raise the banner of free trade,\" even then the trump card of economic arguments.\n\n\"Now is the time,\" Green exhorted, \"to make common cause with Brazil & Cuba,\" the other recipient of human contraband. He instructed Secretary of State Abel P. Upshur that the \"position which England has assumed toward Brazil\" was \"conclusive argument why the United States and Brazil should act together against\" England. Simple survival was at stake since Brazil and the Slave South \"were producing cotton, sugar and other staples cheaper than the British West Indian colonies,\" which impelled the U.K. to destroy both. Green was not content with issuing spirited exhortations, as he lobbied vigorously against global treaties against the slave trade, particularly in France where his influence was greatest, and invoked Brazil as the reason. He was outraged by London's effort in pushing the so-called Quintuple Treaty of 1841, designed to hamper the illicit trade and went further to urge Abel P. Upshur to \"prepare for war\" with Britain and pressed President Tyler to whip up public sentiment similarly. The U.S. legation in Rio de Janeiro echoed these claims, arguing that London's representatives there were \"what would be termed [in] the United States 'abolitionists'\"\u2014then a hated term\u2014which, it was said, \"has made the very name of an Englishman odious to the people of this country.\"\n\nWhite Southerners were not the only U.S. nationals opposed to London's efforts to halt slave traffic between Africa and Brazil. Lewis Cass of the State Department was a Michigander and he too took exception to these multilateral treaties cooked up in London, though his motivation was less sympathy for bondage than concern about sovereignty in the face of the entreaties of a former colonizer, or so he suggested.\n\nMeanwhile, U.S. ships were inundating Brazil, some engaged in ordinary trade\u2014some of which was of strategic importance to North America\u2014and many others depositing enslaved Africans on the shore, while others were being sold for this same illegal purpose. \"The United States trade with Rio de Janeiro is considerable,\" concluded one analyst in 1838. At that juncture, goods from Richmond exceeded those from New York by a factor of four and actually doubled that from Lisbon. Similarly goods from Richmond far exceeded those from Baltimore and Boston (of course, if profits from the illegal slave trade had been factored in along with questionable transfers of vessels, trade with the Northern U.S. would have been much more substantial).\n\nMargaret Lockhard Davis, writing from Pernambuco, was happy to tell her \"dear father\" in 1843 that \"we have had a number of Salem men here within a few months.... it makes it very pleasant for us to see people from our own native spot.\" Similarly satisfying was her residence, \"about two & half miles from the city, a delightful spot surrounded by pleasant fields\" with \"an English family side of us.\" In 1849, Chaplin Conway of Massachusetts had only been in Bahia for \"30 days\" before concluding that this was \"the worst place that I have seen ... in all my going to Brazils [ _sic_ ]\"; one reason was clear: \"they say that there is [ _sic_ ] 20 Negroes to one white person\" and \"there has arrived since I have been here two or three Cargoes of Negroes from the coast of Africa.\"\n\nThe torrent of Africans streaming into Brazil was hard to ignore, which could make the reverie of a Ms. Davis less pleasant if they were ever moved to revolt. This human flood captured the attention of Reverend Pasco G. Hill, who had spent almost two months in Mozambique before arriving in Rio de Janeiro in the early 1840s. \"I attended one of the slave auctions,\" he wrote morosely speaking of this boomtown; there were \"about twenty five of both sexes ... seated on benches behind a long table, which as each in turn ascended to be better viewed by the bidders, a sullenness of look seemed to express their feeling of degradation in being thus put up to sale.\"\n\nThe presence of these U.S. nationals reflected the fact\u2014as U.S. Secretary of State, Abel P. Upshur, was informed\u2014that by 1843, \"the American arrivals\" of vessels in Rio \"have been greater than ever known\" and from 1840 to 1845, the number of U.S. ships sold in this thriving metropolis increased sixteenfold, with most having been registered previously in New York, Baltimore, and Nantucket and with many intended for the slave trade. This steady traffic of U.S. vessels south was thought by London to be impelled by purposes less than benign. Concern was raised about the \"practice ... adopted by the United States Consul at Rio de Janeiro of granting 'sea letters' to American vessels, which as was clearly pointed out ... affords such great facilities to the operations of Slave Traders.\"\n\nInterestingly, the number of U.S. ships departing Rio for Africa was also increasing sharply, along with the number of U.S. ships arriving in Rio from Africa, particularly from the rich slave-hunting grounds that were the Portuguese colonies of Angola and Mozambique. The U.S. emissary in Rio, George Gordon, confessed in 1845 that \"a man could not be in Rio de Janeiro two days without knowing that all trade between Brazil and the coast of Africa was either directly or indirectly in aid or abetment of the slave trade [and] consequently unlawful\" and this was not taking account of U.S. ships arriving further south which were also thought to be smuggling Africans into Brazil.\n\nThe very construction of ships in itself was bringing handsome profits to the U.S. Hundreds of persons were required to construct and prepare a vessel for a voyage to the African coast, including countless numbers of carpenters, chandlers, coopers, sparmakers, and sailmakers. The U.S. \"became the world leader in the construction and use of fast-sailing vessels in the illicit slave trade.... Baltimore shipyards led the United States in construction of fast-sailing vessels for the international slave trade,\" while \"the true masters of the construction of slave trading craft were located in the most northern state in New England, Maine.\" Shipbuilders in this latter state \"constructed more vessels for use in the international slave trade than did Chesapeake shipyards.\" U.S. nationals \"earned enormous profits from the sale of both new and used U.S. craft to slave traders.\" Thus, in June 1845, a \"Brazilian slave trader offered Sammuel [ _sic_ ] Dewing, captain of the U.S. merchant ship _Leader_ from Boston, $9000 for the craft. Another slave trader in Rio de Janeiro offered him $12,000 to sell the _Leader_ into the slave trade.\" James Potter of Providence \"offered to sell his 407 ton _Panther_ to the Brazilian Manuel Fonseca in Rio de Janeiro for $25,000.... in 1843 the U.S. Brig _Agnes_ sailed to Rio de Janeiro and a British broker named Mr. Wetman chartered the craft to the notorious Brazilian slave trader\" Fonseca. Numerous such transactions occurred.\n\nThe open and notorious involvement of those from the U.S. North in the African Slave Trade\u2014though the most vigorous defense of enslavement itself emerged from those from the South, like Calhoun and Green\u2014made it difficult for the international community to make crucial distinctions between these two regions, which complicated further Washington's attempt to bar secession. An Irish member of the British Parliament summarized the feelings of many when he said that \"'it was notorious that the real traffickers in the flesh and blood of their fellow men were citizens of the Northern States. It was in Yankee ships, floated by Yankee capital, commanded by Yankee skippers, sailing forth on their abominable errand with the connivance of bribed Yankee authorities that this work of the devil was carried on.'\"\n\nIt was understandable that such heated remarks would be made in London for British diplomats were carefully scrutinizing the role of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade and they were displeased with what they saw. Their Consul in Rio de Janeiro, Robert Hesketh, observed in 1847 that \"American vessels adapted for the slave trade are continually brought to this port and sold to the slave traders\" which was why \"the influx of African slaves was so great during the latter part of 1846 that it occasioned a glut in the market.\" In fact, \"every succeeding year more plainly shows than at Rio Janeiro [ _sic_ ] and its vicinity, the head-quarters of Brazilian slave trade are established\"\u2014the city was \"one large slave market.\" This was skewing the economy since \"the agricultural class continues its ruinous system of paying more for slave labour than the net produce of their crops can bear.\" His colleague, J. J. C. Westwood was of like mind, asserting that the U.S. \"flag affords in every way the greatest protection of the Slave Trade\" with record numbers of Africans arriving which led to a \"decline in the price.... as the planters are seldom able to pay ready money, slave dealers supply them with slaves to work their estates at much higher rates, at one, two, and even four years credit, taking as security for ultimate payment, mortgages on the estates; and in this manner the slave-traders hold the agricultural proprietary body at their mercy and under their control\"\u2014which was also enriching mortgage-holders, who often were U.S. nationals or tied to them.\n\nSome U.S. diplomats in Rio de Janeiro knew that their countrymen were spearheading this bloody trade in the 1840s when it was escalating. \"'I regret to say this,'\" exclaimed David Tod, \"'but it is a fact not to be disguised or denied, that the slave trade is almost entirely carried on under our flag, in American-built vessels, sold to slave traders here, chartered for the coast of Africa, and there sold, or sold here, delivered on the coast.'\" The \"'entire trade carried on in American vessels between Brazil and Africa, is directly or indirectly connected with the slave traffic.' \"\n\nThere was a U.S. naval squadron patrolling off the coast of Brazil but it was a maritime version of the Keystone Kops, totally ineffectual, wracked with problems of various sorts. Hence, \"the proportion of slaves landed in Brazil in vessels which were or had been or were pretending to be American rose steadily during the late forties from 20% in 1848 (itself a remarkable figure) to almost 50% in 1850.\" Indeed, \"it seems certain that the volume of slave trade to Brazil, Cuba and the United States was far greater during the period of the Anti-Slavery Squadron than before 1807.\"\n\nA typical event occurred when \"midshipman Edward Henshaw was admitted on the Sick Report of this ship with mental derangement\" and \"threatening violence to himself and to those about him.\" It was recommended that he be sent back home because of his \"feeble health.\" His colleague, \"Midshipman Edward Hopkins\" wanted to return home \"on [the] first vessel\" and needed \"sufficient funds\" to \"pay to settle my debts honorably.\" The \"amount\" was \"nearly four months pay, say $150.00.\" An emblematic maritime roustabout, Hopkins was accused of \"using personal violence\" against those around him and other forms of \"conduct\" that were \"outrageous.\" He was not alone. There was, for example, \"a seaman of the name of Thomas Williams,\" a \"notorious thief and in other respects a man of infamous character.\" His commanding officer \"refused to take him back\" and wanted to \"return\" him to the U.S. or \"discharge\" him.\n\nOne time, according to the U.S. Minister in Rio, a boatload of Africans arrived in Liberia on a navy ship led by a captain \"so unfit for duty from drunkenness\" he was hardly coherent. \"There was no proper authority exercised to prevent the hungry & thirsty wretches from eating the raw beef & beans on board; thus for several days there was nothing cooked for them & they were totally neglected. No less than about 150 died in the course of about 14 days.\" It was \"better to have allowed them to be enslaved in Brazil,\" he concluded ruefully: this was \"disgraceful to our naval service.\"\n\nThere was a \"number of cases of smallpox\" aboard ship, which did not improve the demeanor of the seamen or their willingness to stay the rocky course. \"Illness\" was said to be spread if not caused by \"the confinement of a small vessel\" in this often insalubrious \"climate\"; this commander wanted Washington to \"relieve me from the command of this vessel\" so he could \"return to the United States.\" Illness, in fact, was evidently a factor in explaining the often demented madness of seamen and slave ship crews alike. The U.S. military at this time was not attracting the most wholesome of recruits and this certainly hindered their ability to execute a difficult task under the best of circumstances\u2014halting a fleet of devious, at times well-armed, slave ships.\n\nBesides, the U.S. Navy also had to spend a considerable amount of time defending U.S. business interests in a region wracked with turmoil in the best of times, not to mention dodging all manner of hazards while ashore\u2014sometimes from angry Negroes: this too complicated their ability to monitor slavers. There were thousands of miles of coastline to cover, in any case; thus, in the slave center of Pernambuco where \"political intrigues\" had \"led to violent animosities\" with \"much bloodshed and destruction of property,\" by mid-1845, it had been \"more than a year since any American ship of war\" had been there; in fact, for the longest they had seen \"no armed vessel of any nation ... on this part of the coast,\" which was unusual in a region festooned with \"men-of-war\" from Britain, France, and elsewhere. Furthermore, it was hard to develop intelligence sources among the locals; thus, in Bahia there was a \"very strong prejudice against\" the U.S. Consul, because of his \"opposition to the views these people have in regards to the slave trade.\" A goodly number of U.S. nationals in Bahia were likewise opposed to this abolitionist-minded diplomat. Similarly, in Rio de Janeiro, a beleaguered U.S. diplomat complained that \"in a city like this where the slave trade interest has a powerful ascendancy over all, it is apparent that any valuable information I receive must be received by me confidentially or not at all.\" The environment was so unforgiving that the legation and the naval squadron faced severe problems in \"the conveyance of correspondence and letters,\" which was \"unsafe. The usual channels of communication having been dishonored: letters having been taken out and others delayed.\"\n\nOccasionally, amid the chaos, the \"Brazil Squadron\" of the U.S. Navy had the opportunity to keep an eye on slavers, which were circling from the Indian Ocean and navigating the Atlantic\u2014or at times traversing the Pacific to reach Brazil.\n\nIn 1840, Sandwith Drinker was in faraway Zanzibar, yet he \"expressed surprise\" that \"none others but Salem vessels had visited\" this island slave mart off the coast of southeast Africa. Naturally, he visited the local slave bazaar to inspect the merchandise. The U.S. Consul there, Charles Ward, also had Salem roots\u2014but diplomacy was not his only capacity there as he was also a \"merchant conducting business\" who often approached the ruling \"His Highness, the Sultan of Muscat ... not in my official capacity\" but as a businessman, a development that could spawn conflicts of interest just as it could spawn opportunities. Cotton grown in the Slave South was sold there, \"bought by the natives for the coast trade and in return all the ivory, gum, copal, hides, etc. are brought to Zanzibar\"; though \"the natives [were] treacherous,\" Zanzibar was an \"important place of trade.\"\n\nIn the same year that Sandwith Drinker made it to Zanzibar, Thomas Nalle of a leading slaveholding family of Virginia was with the U.S. brig \"Dolphin\" in West Africa, near Cape Mesurado. \"There are more than two hundred thousand slaves carried annually from this coast to the West Indies and South America,\" he alleged. \"I have no doubt that many are smuggled into the United States,\" he added, not least since this business was so profitable: \"a noted slave dealer on this coast by the name of Pedro Blanco, a Spaniard, has lately retired from his Occupation with a capital of four millions of dollars.\" Joel Abbot of the U.S. ship \"Decatur,\" writing from Port Praya, could not help but notice \"the many cases of American vessels bringing out slave cargoes on freight to slave merchants at slave marts, and some with evident previous arrangements for the sale of their vessels, having brought out as passengers the officers that were to take charge after the change of national character and who would, if nothing occurred to prevent, carry away a cargo of slaves under another flag and ownership.\" \"If they succeed in landing in the West Indies or Brazil one cargo of slaves in three that may be embarked from the coast,\" it was said, \"their gains are sufficient to induce them to persevere.\" This profit was encouraging U.S. nationals to move from simply supplying ships to captaining them. \"The slave trade ... has increased within a year or two to a great extent,\" said the U.S. Consul in Rio de Janeiro glumly, and \"in some cases it has been carried on by Americans in American vessels.\" There was \"John Miller of New York,\" for example: \"I have no faith,\" he added, \"that the government here will aid me in bringing Miller or any other slaver to justice.\" There was \"the 'Fame,'\" a \"whaler from New London,\" which \"came into this port from the Pacific Ocean.\" The Consul \"afterwards learned that\" this ship \"landed over seven hundred slaves to the eastward of Cape Frio\" and had \"cleared about 40,000 dollars by the voyage.\" But the U.S. had only \"one frigate and one brig\" to patrol a huge area and was unable to respond effectively.\n\nA number of these U.S. citizens involved in the African Slave Trade were newly naturalized, e.g., the \"Frenchman by birth,\" Lewis Krafft, who gained his citizenship in March 1847\u2014before being accused of slave trading in 1848. Born in Paris in 1811, he arrived in Manhattan in 1826 where he became a sailor, traveling frequently to Cuba and Louisiana, before arriving in Rio as the illegal slave trade was heating up in 1843. He had been a \"clerk in a slave factory on the coast of Africa\" and now had \"connexions [ _sic_ ]\" in Brazil \"wholly with slave dealers, such as Bernardino de Sa, who ranks second only to Manoel Pinto da Fonseca in this country and perhaps the world.\" His travels were dizzying, going from Havana to New Orleans and back routinely and \"from Havana to Cape de Verd[e]; thence to Sierra Leone; thence to Maxumbia; thence to Loango; thence to Cabinda; thence to Ambriz; thence to Loanda; thence back to Ambriz [ _sic_ ]\"\u2014then to Brazil.\n\nAs Britain cracked down, slave trading became more and more a \"'big business'\"\u2014a transnational business, in fact, that demanded heavy travel\u2014with \"large firms owning fleets of vessels and secretly condoned by their governments.\" The Royal Navy's labors \"gradually weeded out the law-abiding and the faint-hearted. It left the business to tough and desperate men, those who were prepared to fight their way through the navy patrol\"\u2014or dodge them through dizzying travels; these were \"ne'er-do-wells, thugs, and impoverished multinationals.\"\n\nYet, with all their ministrations, the Royal Navy\u2014limited in its right to board and search ships flying the Stars and Stripes\u2014often seemed like a besieged team of firefighters in a town beset by expert arsonists. \"A very great portion of the Slave Trade, particularly from Cabinda, is now carried on under the protection of the American flag, with impunity,\" it was said in 1845. Where were these enslaved Africans arriving? \"At no period,\" said London, \"has the Brazilian Slave Trade been so extensively carried on as it is at the present moment in Rio de Janeiro itself,\" while \"United States vessels and crew have of late been made subservient to the purposes of the Brazilian slave dealers.\" Moreover, even Spanish ships and vessels of other nations were sailing out of U.S. ports because of the extreme laxity in enforcing laws against the trade and, perhaps inevitably, there was a spillover of this commerce into North America itself, a process facilitated by, e.g., the \"formation of a secret society in Galveston for the express purpose of upholding slavery and putting down its opponents,\" led by chiefs of \"slave trading transactions.\"\n\nAlso in 1845, \"nefarious practices of American vessels\" were denounced by one British official: \"this evil has much increased since ... last year, as many more vessels, protected by American papers, have sailed with slaves from the coast this year than last, and [we] fear, if not checked by our squadron, it must still further increase to an enormous extent, as it is under the American flag alone that they can now carry on this trade with impunity and but few of the United States Squadron have ever visited the south coast; and those that have, appear to have studiously avoided touching at Cabinda, the chief port where these practices are carried. Besides the American vessels bought by the Spanish and Brazilians, as slave vessels, there are many other American vessels, that are chartered exclusively to bring a full cargo of slave goods from Rio Janeiro [ _sic_ ] to Cabinda.\" These were mostly from Baltimore, Philadelphia, and Boston.\n\nBut what seemed to particularly gall these U.S. captains, besides the indignity of being boarded and searched by the Royal Navy, was _who_ was involved. The U.S. flagged ship \"Cyrus\" out of New Orleans was detained by the British \"five miles off Cabinda.\" It was a \"slaving vessel ... filled with slaves\" according to London's officer. But what seemed to particularly grate on the nerves of Captain P. C. Dumas of the detained vessel\u2014\"the American flag has been insulted,\" he charged hotly\u2014was that \"four Negro sailors\" from Britain were involved. The \"British Captain, officer and Negroes had trampled on the American flag, broke my trunk open and took away my papers,\" which supposedly left the crew \"exposed to be robbed by the natives of Cabinda.\" Apparently Dumas's destination was Rio de Janeiro. But London had reason to be aggressive in its approach for like filings to a magnet, U.S. slavers were flocking to the beleaguered continent in the mid-1840s to buy and kidnap Africans.\n\nThe illicit slave trade to Brazil that was being engineered significantly by U.S. nationals was taking on the earmarks of big business and, consequently, was also attracting European men who sought to engage in this lucrative commerce and were not adverse to taking on U.S. citizenship as a result. The U.S. nationals in the navy whose task was to crackdown on this business were notably inept, which was not surprising given the influence of men like John C. Calhoun in Washington. Yet, there was no unanimity of opinion among U.S. elite circles on the necessity of this odious trafficking in humans. Certainly, the eminent Henry Wise of Virginia, the tormenter of John Brown, was a stern critic of this business.\n\nHenry Alexander Wise. Before serving as governor of Virginia from 1856 to 1860 (a tenure that included the authorization of John Brown's execution), Wise was the chief U.S. diplomat in Brazil during the 1840s when the illicit slave trade there was escalating. Courtesy Library of Congress.\n\n## **4  \nWise?**\n\nThe illicit slave trade to Brazil did not easily coexist with simple notions of a rapacious Slave South hell-bent on dragging more Africans across the Atlantic into slavery and a pious abolitionist North determined to thwart their schemes. Such an analysis hardly explains the activities of the Virginian, Henry Wise, during his tenure as a U.S. diplomat in Brazil. Still, he was one of a number of U.S. nationals who resided in this South American nation during a time when enslaved Africans were arriving in enormous numbers and their reaction to this phenomenon inevitably had an impact on how the peculiar institution itself was received in the U.S.\n\nHenry A. Wise was no abolitionist\u2014though he was influential, having considered a race for the presidency in 1856. As a Congressman, he avowed that if Washington \"began to discuss ending slavery in the District [of Columbia] he would 'go home ... never to return.'\" Slavery, he thought, was \"'interwoven with our very political existence, is guaranteed by our Constitution, and its consequences must be borne by our northern brethren as resulting from our system of government, and they cannot attack the system of slavery without attacking the institutions of our country, our safety and our welfare.'\" John Quincy Adams was among the many northerners Wise despised, in this case because he felt this patrician was not sufficiently hostile to Haiti. He occasionally described Negroes as \"'wooly headed,' 'splay footed' and 'odiferous,'\" while \"his slaveholdings expanded during the 1840s.\" He was a fervent advocate of the supposed benefits of slavery, declaring that \"'whenever black existed ... there was found at least equality among the white population.'\"\n\nIf Wise is recalled at all today, it is as the man responsible, as Governor of Virginia, for executing John Brown in 1859, viewed widely among Euro-Americans as a criminal for leading a bloody revolt against slavery at Harper's Ferry. Wise was single-minded about what should befall the captured Brown, not least since he was gravely concerned about what signal to slavery his uprising wrought. \"The very sympathy with John Brown,\" exclaimed Governor Wise, \"so general, so fanatical, so regardless of social safety, & so irreverent of the reign of law, demands his execution, if sentenced by the courts. The law he insulted & outraged are now protecting all his rights of defence and all his claims to mercy.\" So moved, the last act of his administration was the hanging of Brown and his followers. Wise went on to join secession and become a \"General in the Confederate army.\" Unsurprisingly, this \"swashbuckling defender of slavery's interests\" was \"one of those present at Appomatox Courthouse when Lee surrendered to Grant.\"\n\nYet, scholar Mary Catherine Karasch is no doubt correct in suggesting that Wise's \"consular reports,\" while serving as Minister to Brazil, \"provide the best ... descriptions\" of slave trading to South America. Historian Don E. Fehrenbacher concurs, noting that Wise \"antagonized ... the American business community in Rio\" with his fervor against the slave trade. His fiery denunciations of slavers could be seen as self-interested, in that many in Virginia saw this state as a prime source for slave exporters to the point where his compatriot, Matthew Fontaine Maury, envisioned sending Afro-Virginians all the way down the river to settle and develop the Amazon region of Brazil. After all, there was an analytical distinction between slavery and the slave trade\u2014the latter could in certain instances reduce the value of existing slaveholdings by increasing supply.\n\nIt was Wise who deemed abolitionism to be \"sedition\" and agreed with placing \"abolitionists in a position of embarrassment, from which they cannot easily escape.\" It was Wise who in campaigning for James Buchanan in his race for the presidency chortled that in Virginia \"we now get a thousand dollars for a sound slave\" and \"we would then have gotten from three to five thousand dollars for an operative in the gold mines of California.\" \"War\" with Britain, he thought, would be \"dangerous to the slave breeding states\" of which his dominion was paramount, as it might disrupt this profitable business; \"it would be an act of folly or crime, or a blunder worse than crime.\" Thus, Buchanan was \"the choice of the Virginia Slave Breeders,\" whose champion Wise was. Nevertheless, it was Henry Wise who hailed from an affluent family\u2014his father was a lawyer\u2014that raised a clarion call against the invasion of slavers from his homeland at a time when some of his countrymen in both the U.S. and the Slave South would have preferred that he had done otherwise. In detailing Wise's tenure in Brazil in the 1840s when enslaved Africans were arriving in significant numbers, this chapter seeks to suggest not only that pro-slavery and anti\u2013slave trade postures could coexist in one person but, by inference, this also underscores the importance of Maury's plan to ship enslaved U.S. Negroes to Brazil, which obviated the need for the illicit slave trade that Wise railed so vehemently against.\n\nWise took particular umbrage at London's pressure on the illicit slave trade, assuming\u2014perhaps correctly\u2014that it was a short step from there to objecting to slavery itself. Moreover, Wise's attempt to deflect anger about the slave trade to London and the wider U.S. concern that increasing the number of Africans in Brazil could reproduce a Haiti\u2014except on a much wider scale\u2014also points to how transatlantic and hemispheric concerns influenced the discourse on slavery and the slave trade in the U.S. Wise's recall from Brazil reflected a hardening of the posture of the Slave South, which theretofore had tolerated anti\u2013slave trade views that created openings, it came to be seen, for abolitionist views. In this sense, the end of Wise's quixotic and flailing tenure in Brazil represented yet another step toward Civil War.\n\nWise was not an intimidating physical presence. He was \"remarkably lean\"\u20145\u203211\u2033 and a mere 130 pounds\u2014and was \"originally fair skinned\" but probably because of exposure to the piercing sun rays during Virginia summers became progressively \"swarthy.\" His hair was a \"light auburn\"\u2014and \"when young, almost flaxen\"\u2014which he \"generally\" wore \"long and behind his ears.\" His head was \"large with great depth between the temples,\" his \"forehead\" low but \"broad\" and his \"eyes large, gray and deep set, arched by a heavy and remarkably expressive brown\"; his nose was \"large and prominent,\" his mouth \"capacious,\" his lips \"rather thick,\" his jaws \"lank and florid,\" his chin \"broad and prominent\" with a furrow \"from the center downwards.\" He possessed \"manly and defiant features\" that were accentuated by the fact that he was an \"excessive chewer of tobacco,\" though he \"never\" smoked and \"rarely\" drank \"anything of an alcoholic character.\" He was \"remarkably abstemious.\" As he grew older he had begun to \"stoop a little\" and since \"upon the whole\" he was \"not a handsome man,\" this latter characteristic became more pronounced during his dotage. Politically, besides being a leading Confederate, in the antebellum era he was fiercely opposed to the Know-Nothing Party. He was more qualified than most for his post in Brazil, since \"he read French and understood a smattering of Spanish\"\u2014but, typically, \"no Portuguese.\" He was also feisty, at one point \"Richmond friends\" of his were \"suffering great anxiety for a day or two on your account occasioned by rumours of differences between yourself and another gentleman which might possibly end in a duel!\"\n\nPolitically, he was also well connected, although when his name was sent to the United States Senate in 1842 for the \"mission to France,\" a \"Whig Senate rejected him.\" He obtained a congressional seat nonetheless in 1843, then \"it was discovered\" that the health of the frail Wise \"was giving away rapidly from the constant excitement of about ten years. Consequently, his friends sent his name again to the Senate for the court of Rio Janeiro\" [ _sic_ ]. He was approved this time and in May 1844 sailed southward and did not return until October 1847. It turned out that he found just about all the excitement he needed in monitoring and combating the incursion of U.S. slavers.\n\nWise, who was \"one of [President] Tyler's best friends,\" apparently \"was not instructed at all\" about the African Slave Trade in Brazil before departing. And even though he was a stern critic of this business \"he did not call on Congress for more severe legislation\"; instead and in tune with prevailing mores, he \"blamed the British for their share in the traffic\" and \"reiterated Calhoun's accusation\" that London's \"apprenticeship system imposed on freed slaves,\" along with Africans heading for slavery but captured on the open seas, \"was nothing but a perpetuation of the slave trade in another form.\" Still, despite his toeing the ideological line, his patron, John C. Calhoun of the fire-eating state of South Carolina, was \"highly dissatisfied with the Minister's reports\" from Rio de Janeiro though Wise \"had been instrumental in making him Secretary of State.\" Yet, since Wise was a major player in Virginia and national politics and \"could become important in the race for the presidency in 1848,\" Calhoun \"recommended to the new administration that Wise be maintained as Minister to Brazil.\"\n\nThis was not as difficult a decision for the White House as it may appear since Wise did stress, quite fashionably, hostility to London's stopping and detaining U.S. ships\u2014\"Great Britain had no right to exercise any authority\" in this sphere, he thought\u2014and sought at least verbally to stress Brazil's supposed \"partiality to the U.S.,\" which was \"apparent\" and \"no less manifest in their distrust of Great Britain.\"\n\nNevertheless, one of his initial maneuvers was seeking to break the long-standing link between serving as a U.S. diplomat while engaging in slave trading: he pushed the \"revocation of the appointment of a Brazilian citizen named Souto as Vice Consul of the U.S. at Victoria for the Province of Espirito Santo\" since \"this man, it seems, is a very prince of slave-dealers and has actually.... been using his pretended office under the U. States [ _sic_ ] for the purpose of aiding and abetting the slave-trade.\" His colleague in Brazil, George Gordon, a Massachusetts politician, reflected this biregional approach when he pursued slavers with equal vigor, finding their \"manner of prosecuting the Slave Trade upon the coast of Africa ... truly astonishing ... particularly in regard to the connection of American citizens therewith, and the use and prostitution of the American flag in furtherance thereof.\"\n\nBut this repetitively expressed anger aside, the Wise-led legation in Rio de Janeiro stressed with similar repetition, \"interference by Great Britain,\" not only with \"this subject of the slave trade\" but also with the more sensitive issue of \"domestic slavery in the U. States [ _sic_ ].\" London's crusade ineluctably had led it to consider the spillover of this global business into the U.S. itself, which impelled it to look at what was thought to be the major prop of this commerce, i.e., slavery in the U.S. But for Wise this was \"our most delicate of domestic institutions, the most sensitive to foreign intrusion.\" \"Now what can this mean?\" he asked Calhoun imploringly. Why was the British Consul in Mobile saying, \"'there is no known party'\" of abolition [emphasis-original]. Was \"this a permissible [function] of a British legation in the U.S.?\" This was outrageous, he thought. \"They pry into _the treatment of the slaves by their private owners, into the food and raiment, into the disposition of masters to manumit them_ \" [emphasis-original]. \"Ought this to be suffered,\" he asked, \"at a time when insurrection and massacre are set on foot in the neighboring island of Cuba\"\u2014not to mention Brazil where the contagion could also spread. Thoughtfully, Wise attached a letter from the British Foreign Office asking pointed questions about slavery in the U.S. itself\u2014including the sensitive inquiry of details about imports of slaves from Africa itself.\n\nBurnishing his fashionable anti-London credentials, Wise told Calhoun that \"to some my letter may appear to partake of the tone of the partisan against Great Britain\"; well, he said, \"I am willing that it should so appear.\" As for a U.S. national detained by the British for involvement in the trade, Wise was \"fully convinced that the case was one of great outrage upon the flag & commerce of the U. States, in any & every aspect in which it can be viewed.... Great Britain had no right,\" he insisted fervently, \"to exercise any authority whatever over him or his vessel.\" In fact, he continued, \"the attempt on the part of Great Britain to subject our vessels to her acts of visit or search, was among other causes an obstacle to any successful suppression of the African slave trade.\" He was willing to propose a compromise with London in that the U.S. would \"waive all claim to their right of search of U. States vessels; and would no longer pay bounties of so many pound sterling per capita for every recaptured African to the officers of her cruisers,\" if \"the British government would cease itself to partake in some sense of the slave trade\" by \"carrying every captured slave into her colonies.\" Like many in the Slave South, Wise was worried that London's seizing of slave ships and diverting Africans to their colonies as apprentices was little more than warfare against slavery as practiced in the troika of the U.S., Brazil, and Cuba and a boost for their own colonies in the global competition to dominate the production of key agricultural crops. \"Is it not in fact a part of the slave trade to take them away from their own country, without their consent, to bind them out under a system of apprenticeship?\"\u2014since \"they may be lawfully held in bondage for a term of 5 or 10 years, why not for 50 or 100 years or any period beyond the duration of human life?\" Instead, Wise \"urged that moral means were much preferable to physical force\" in handling the trade. The U.S. was banking on Brazil reacting similarly to British meddling, which \"gives the impression at least of a foreign government overruling the domestic concern & interfering ostentatiously with matters purely local or municipal.\"\n\nBut it would be unwise to stress unduly this questionable aspect of the U.S. Minister's mission in Brazil. For he did have the gumption to tell Calhoun bluntly that \"the African slave trade 'thickens around us' and we are trading on its dragon teeth.\" The \"only effectual mode of carrying on that trade between Africa and Brazil, at present,\" he stressed, \"involves _our laws and our moral responsibilities_ as directly and fully as it does those of this country itself,\" meaning Brazil [emphasis-original]. In fact, he emphasized, \"without the aid of our citizens and our flag, it could not be carried on with success at all.\" This \"trade between Africa and Brazil\" was \"almost the only trade of the world left in which our citizens and vessels can now violate our laws for the suppression of the foreign slave trade.\" The \"number of slaves imported from Africa into Brazil during 1844, was at least 64,000,\" he claimed.\n\nNot only was Wise willing to cross swords with powerful forces back home who were displeased with his hostility to the trade, but he also managed to incur the hostility of some Brazilians. One of the chief slave-dealers, Manuel Pinto da Fonseca, was according to Wise, \"said to be actually engaged to be married to a daughter of one of the Ministers and he is also the intimate friend of the most influential person in the government\"\u2014none of whom were happy with Wise's demarches. The \"'secretaria'\" of the \"court police,\" Joaquim Jose Moreira Maia, for example, was upset with Wise's \"irregular conduct\" in detaining U.S. nationals on Brazilian soil then sending them back home for trial.\n\nThere was repeated \"abuse\" of him in the \"newspapers\" in Brazil, and \"petty slights of not inviting me to court,\" he added, which was not an imposition since \"the only reward for going ... on a hot day in a hot uniform is to make three bows forward and three bows backward and then 'bob out [of the] Imperial presence.' My Republican heart was glad to be relieved from this _only_ court duty which I have ever seen here prescribed or followed\" [emphasis-original].\n\nThere were a number of reasons for Wise to be so confrontational. His critics thought that Virginians generally had a material basis for their self-righteousness about the trade, given this state's own role as an exporter of Africans. Flooding the hemisphere with Africans\u2014particularly when they were growing crops that could be equally grown in the Slave South, e.g., sugar in Louisiana\u2014could drive down the price of African sales and, perhaps, crop sales also in the U.S. itself. There was also concern that Brazil could become a second Haiti, only bigger and more dangerous, if the number of Africans there increased\u2014and this could have potentially devastating impact on the long-term viability of the Slave South.\n\nWhile Wise ran the risk of harming relations with Brazil, simple diplomatic statecraft suggested that this nation's conflicts with Britain should be tailor-made for an alliance with the U.S. \"It was but yesterday,\" said Wise, that he \"had to dispatch ... a cutter to look out for an American barque which had the night before landed 450 slaves within cannonshot of this harbor!\" i.e., Rio de Janeiro. \"The Minister and Counsellors of state and Senators and delegates in the legislative chambers\" were \"undoubtedly engaged in this bold ... horrid traffic\" and the \"principal capitalists\" involved were \"the owners of the newspapers ... in this city\"\u2014and they were hardly pleased with his opposition to this dirty business. In the sunset of his life, Wise recalled ruefully that \"almost every one (excluding the Emperor ... and a few honorable men) was interested in the trade. Cabinet Ministers, Judges and minor authorities of every kind were guilty of participation or connivance\" and he \"had disturbed a hornet's nest\" with his angry lobbying against slavers. \"He soon became the most unpopular man in Rio de Janeiro and every possible annoyance was received by him from both Government and people\" and \"finally the Government ceased all diplomatic relations with him.\" President Polk would not relieve him but the isolated Wise was obliged to leave his post nonetheless.\n\nYet this baring of fangs in Brazil hardly compared to the hostility that Wise faced back home. \"I know very well,\" he admitted, \"the very strong representations from certain parties against me.\" These were \"the slave-trade vessel owners of the Northern cities. I have exposed their abominable traffic here and have severely shocked its profits if not its conscience. Out of 22 vessels of our merchant marine engaged in the African trade between the coast & Brazil since 1845,\" he charged, \"but four hail south of Philadelphia\" and these \"were from Baltimore. The Agnes, which was sold on the coast and brought over about [600] slaves was owned by a Quaker of Delaware who would not even eat slave sugar,\" while \"the owner of the 'Herschel,' a vessel which has made several trips to the coast under the charter party of notorious slave-traders here, is also an owner of an abolition newspaper in Bangor, Maine. His name is Dow. In public I am told he rebuked his [captain] for engaging in such a charter, and in private told him to do so again, as it was very profitable. He is the owner of the 'Amelia' ... & gave instructions ... to charter her also lately for the coast.\" As Wise saw it, history was repeating itself. These damned Yankees were \"now doing for Brazil\" what they \"did for Virginia and the other Southern states in N. America\"\u2014\"carrying the slave cargoes from Africa under the protection of the U. States flag; with the additional evil to us at this day that they are thus affording the only good cause upon earth to the English to search our vessels\" which \"at the very moment they would plunge us into a war with Gt. Britain under the expectation of compelling emancipation in the southern states by the treaty-making power & by the black regiment of Jamaica. This actual & potential interest has been secretly exerting all its influence to cause my recall,\" he complained. \"It won't show its own face in the attempt but avails itself of every collateral pretext & agency in its reach.\" The \"miserable ex-Consul here [George] Gordon,\" a Massachusetts member of the party he despised, the \"Know-Nothings,\" was \"induced\" by his \"neighbors and friends in Boston and by the hope that a quarrel with me would be acceptable to [President] Polk\" and also with the powerful \"Prince of slave-dealers in Rio, Manoel Pinto da Fonseca & his company,\" to \"forward a regular budget of slander against\" Wise to Washington. \"He got many of the merchant captains, I am told, to sign affidavits that I was bent on destroying all American trade to Africa,\" he asserted, \"and he sent on a mass of such matter & its proof, of which I have never yet read.\" The \"vessel owners and vessel captains desirous to engage in the African trade\" and \"their friends\" were \"conspirators against me,\" said Wise. \"They find a number no doubt in the U. States who are my foes of old, and they find more who desire the place I hold, and these united, and their friends, make a pretty formidable host. Can it be expected that these,\" he asked rhetorically, \"will release their combinations & efforts against me?\" He felt \"grateful to [President] Polk for his magnanimity toward me personally,\" thought Wise but was otherwise convinced that Northern pro-slave trade antagonists were after his scalp.\n\nThis was something of an overstatement. Just as Wise's enmity toward London clouded the point that they were as hostile to the trade\u2014if not more so\u2014as himself, his unfriendliness toward the U.S. North, clouded his view of similarly anti-slaver colleagues, such as George Gordon. Nevertheless, Gordon, like Wise's other detractors, had a hard time quarreling with the Minister's aggressive approach to the role of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade to Brazil. It had \"grown so bold and so bad,\" Wise declared shortly after arriving in Rio, \"as no longer to wear a mask even to those who reside here\" and was \"unblushingly carried on by our citizens under our flag.\" However, he did decry Gordon's approach as the \"crying injustice of punishing the poor ignorant officers and crews of merchant ships for high misdemeanors and felonies, when the ship-owners in the United States, and their _American consignees, factors, and agents_ abroad are left almost entirely untouched by penalties\" [emphasis-original]. The latter were disproportionately from the U.S. North, he thought.\n\nWhy were they attracted to this inhuman business? Wise thought he knew. \"The profit of the slave trade, then, may be put down safely at from 600 to 1200 percent,\" he offered. \"This accounts for the enormous prices they pay for vessels and their charters to 'the coast' and for the risks which they can afford to dare in the traffic. The worst of it is, too,\" he added with the air of a man who knew of what he spoke, \"that they import so few females in comparison with the number of males, that the annual increase by propagation in Brazil is not likely, for a long period, to diminish the necessity for additional slaves.\"\n\nThis assumption did not spare him from further scrutiny of the illicit slave trade. Wise was pushed to ask rhetorically of the powerful Baltimore\u2013Rio de Janeiro firm, \"Maxwell, Wright & Co.,\" which was suspected of collaborating with slavers, \"Why I, an American slaveholder, manifest such extraordinary zeal in this subject? The only answer I shall deign to give is, that the fact of my being a slaveholder is itself a pledge and guarantee that I am no _fanatic_ \" [emphasis-original]. Repeatedly he averred that \"I find the same old interest at work here, and now, to fasten American slavery on Brazil, which, in our early history, fastened its condition of a Slave State on Virginia: vessels and capital from precisely the same quarter bring the slaves to this country in this age, which carried them to that country in times past.\" His words dripping with acerbic sarcasm he exclaimed, \"the very lands in the old and new worlds, where 'world conventions' are held, and whence abolition petitions flow, are the lands where there are manufacturers of goods 'fit for the coast,'\" yet they \"'will not eat slave sugar!'\"\n\nWise's Brazilian counterparts in Washington kept a careful eye on his activities. During Wise's tenure, the U.S. was involved in a delicate diplomatic minuet, seeking to win over Brazil as an ally in its ongoing conflict with Britain\u2014but these two nations though at odds about slavery and the slave trade were similarly skeptical of Washington, notably the annexation of Texas and war with Mexico. Hence, Wise's forthrightness about illegal slaving in Brazil was not tailored to appeal to the elites he was lambasting, though this South American nation continued to look to Washington\u2014and not unsuccessfully\u2014for diplomatic support in its conflict with London over the slave trade. Since some powerful U.S. elites were seeking to expand their domestic slave empire by \"establishing a cotton factory in Rio de Janeiro,\" impetus was added to the U.S.-Brazil relationship\u2014Wise's denunciations notwithstanding. This is why during the height of Wise's stay in Rio, one visiting U.S. national found that \"an Englishman is despised in this place. But Americans are beloved & have much attention paid them. Some of our officers having been taken for Englishmen are stoned.\"\n\nBut it was more than Wise that was complicating U.S.-Brazil ties. During the summer of 1847, Jose da Cosat de Rocha arrived in New York City from Rio de Janeiro, accompanied by three enslaved Africans, including \"Maria,\" a \"servant and nurse\" to his \"wife and family.\" Somehow they managed to escape and their case wound up in the Court of Common Pleas where Brazil's Consul, Luis Henrique Ferreira Aguiar argued forcefully that the \"said slaves were brought to this country under the firm faith and assurance that the rights of property of foreign subjects are held sacred in the United States.\" Apparently, this property was not recovered satisfactorily, which could only inflame relations between the two hemispheric behemoths.\n\nFracases in Manhattan set aside, Wise remained ensnared in a maze of contradictions, seeking to flay Northern slavers while embracing those who ultimately were financing them, not to mention slaveholders as a class. The Brazilian Foreign Ministry took note of a bitter complaint from the **Salem Register** \u2014a newspaper in a town that included citizens that benefited handsomely from the African Slave Trade: The \"difficulties which unfortunately now exist between this vast country\" (Brazil) \"and our government may soon be brought to an amicable conclusion,\" despite the \"high handed conduct of our late Minister of that Court,\" meaning Wise. His conduct, it was said, \"threatens to involve our country in another war,\" as if fighting Mexico were not enough. \"Our fellow citizens are deeply interested in the lucrative and advantageous commerce carried on between this city and various ports of Brazil. Our East India commerce too, passes within a few hundred leagues of the Brazilian coast and would be exposed to the utmost danger in case of a war.\" Wise should be reined in, it was thought, as \"the Brazilian Court has already recalled its Minister and the public feeling throughout that country is decidedly against that and would need but little fanning to break into a flame in which the lives and fortunes of many of our fellow countrymen would be consumed.\" \"Documents relative to Mr. Wise's difficulty with the Brazilian government\" were \"published from which it appears that Mr. Lisboa, the Brazilian Minister at Washington called at the Department of State and requested the recall of Mr. Wise.\" The \"Emperor had determined he should never again be invited to Court.\" It was expected that Washington would acquiescence, being reluctant to confront Brazil while it was fighting Mexico.\n\nThe days of the besieged Wise were numbered. He complained to William Wright of Maxwell, Wright that his \"greatest annoyance\" was the African Slave Trade, which had \"become outrageous under the U. States flag\" to \"the disgrace of our nation.\" \"I was confident,\" he told him for whatever reason, \"you would approve of my motives & action in suppressing this nefarious traffic\"; \"it is impossible,\" he added, \"to carry on what is called the lawful trade to Africa from Brazil without becoming involved more or less in the reputation if not in the actual guilt of the unlawful traffic between these two countries [ _sic_ ]\"\u2014which was an implicit rebuke of Wright's firm [emphasis-original].\n\nNonetheless, Wise continued to hold Wright close, accepting his \"very respectable present of a round of beef\" which was \"in excellent order\" for \"our palates, if not our hearts\" for which he was \"grateful.\" He sought to \"invite\" Wright to his \"house\" in Rio \"immediately\" when this financial baron showed up in Rio. Perhaps Wise's growing isolation as a result of his uncompromising rhetorical hostility toward slavers prompted him to at least welcome Wright, a man of no mean influence. Or, quite possibly, his inflammatory diplomatic messages aside, the opposition to the African Slave Trade by Wise, the slaveowner, could not transcend the rhetorical.\n\nRio was \"not like home,\" Wise told Wright, yet he had \"met so much kindness from every American and from all, in fact, especially from your nephew that I am conditioned to remain here a few years, if permitted to do so,\" though the \"climate\" was \"rather enervating and somewhat insidious I think.\"\n\n\"Enervating\" was another way to describe Wise's recurrent condition in Rio de Janeiro's often unwholesome climate. Wright was told by a colleague that \"when I arrived here yesterday\" in Rio \"I found Mr. Wise much worse [than] I expected, he complained of soreness in his side & was very restless. He asked me to remain all night as he feared he might be attacked with sudden spasms\u2014which I of course did. He suffered much pain during the night.\" \"The state of my health will not permit me to be with you,\" Wise told colleagues in Brazil. \"For the last two or three days my system has been quite disordered.... I have been compelled to resort to copious doses of medicine.\"\n\nPerhaps because of his difficulty in adjusting to Rio's climate and the concomitant political isolation he suffered, Wise\u2014though a rhetorical lion in opposing slavers\u2014was the main man in charge when slavers were streaming into Brazil and unloading their human cargoes. Certainly his outspokenness was not shared universally among Washington's power elite, which no doubt reduced his effectiveness. When the Department of State was queried by Wright during the height of Wise's tenure in 1845 about the questionable practice of U.S. nationals selling their ships in Rio\u2014which were then promptly dispatched to pick up enslaved Africans on a strained and stressed continent\u2014the response was something less than ringing in condemnation.\n\nYet, how could it be otherwise given the political situation in the U.S., where some Northerners were profiting from the slave trade while many Southerners were reluctant to tamper with this commerce for fear that it might compromise their jealously held peculiar institution? The fact that Wright had been posted to Rio de Janeiro was suggestive of Washington's true feelings about fighting the trade, as his firm had been implicated in this business. His \"long residence at Rio de Janeiro and the experience necessarily acquired in the performance of your office there,\" recommended him to both business and government, Wright was informed.\n\nMaxwell, Wright was a transnational firm with major interests along the eastern seaboard of the U.S., not to mention trading in all major capitals, including Antwerp, Amsterdam, Malta, Naples, Venice, Stockholm, Hamburg, Bombay, and the continent of Africa\u2014especially Brazil's major slave labor products: sugar and coffee. This firm was engaged in \"very large quantities\" of commodities in Brazil, while Wright for a while was a well-respected diplomat.\n\nBut one thing Wright did have in common with Wise was conflict with elites in Rio de Janeiro. He too was obliged to carp about \"having been removed from the Consulate of the United States\" in Rio \"'by request of the Brazilian Government,'\" though he had \"filled\" that job \"for ... six years.\" His problem was not with slavers but the alleged \"many acts of injustice having been practiced upon our commerce, in the ports of this Empire\" and, said Wright, \"it was my duty to complain.\" Washington, thus, had to \"annul\" his \"commission\" though his \"conduct\" was \"perfectly satisfactory to our government.\"\n\nWright still remained central to Maxwell, Wright's business in Brazil and was angling for escalating his presence as Wise was arriving. His nephew sought to remind him of Rio's \"privations and disagreeables [ _sic_ ] to which a residence here subjects a family and recollect only the more agreeable occurrences of your time.\" But the firm was attracted to the handsome profits that only a slave labor economy could supply. \"I do not know how it is,\" said Robert Wright, \"that having made as you have done a great deal of money in this country, you have so little to show for it.... you were spending too much money\"\u2014and now needed more. He had a point for at that time a fellow Baltimorean, Joshua Cohen, was profiting nicely from various commercial dealings in Brazil, particularly the importation of sugar.\n\nWilliam Hunter was, like Wright, a U.S. diplomat in Brazil whose family was implicated in the slave trade. His spouse\u2014Mary Robinson Hunter\u2014unlike Wise, arrived in Brazil with mild sympathies toward slaves but in the hothouse environment that was Rio de Janeiro, she was transformed\u2014albeit in a manner unlike Wise's rhetorical crusade against the slave trade. Born in New York City to a wealthy landowning family that had made a small fortune in the African Slave Trade, she married the scion of an equally prominent Rhode Island family that also had profited from this vile business. In 1834, her spouse\u2014William, a lawyer who was to become a U.S. Senator\u2014accepted a diplomatic post in Brazil where both resided until 1848. \"In the beginning\" of her stay abroad, \"Mary sympathized with the plight of slaves\" in Brazil, but as \"time passed and her difficulties in managing her other household servants increased, she had a change of heart regarding their treatment and on occasion whipped them and slapped them, something she previously deplored. Mary's initial compassion toward slaves, however, was also tempered by her fear of them\" for the \"1830s\" in Brazil were \"rife with slave insurrections\" and \"given the large numbers of slaves in Rio de Janeiro, Mary dreaded a slave revolt and feared its consequences for the white population.\"\n\nOver and over again in her lengthy stay in Rio, which ended in 1848, \"she expressed concern about being left home alone with her household servants and she avoided going shopping in Rio because she disliked being jostled in the streets by Negroes.\" Her fears were comprehensible. In 1841, she recounted how a \"female slave\" had \"mingled some poisonous root (which is known only to the blacks) in some chamomile tea her master had ordered her to make for him.\" He found out somehow, then got some \"thumb screws to make her confess.\" She apparently did so and implicated others in the plot and \"they were all severely whipped for three days in succession and they are now about selling the girl.\" Then a Brazilian \"merchant\" was \"murdered by his Cook on his return from the theatre,\" which made her \"shudder.\" He \"very imprudently bought his black, knowing him to be [a] bad one, because he was a good cook\" but the slave was \"angry with his master, it is said, for making him go out on Sundays and holidays\"\u2014and retaliated. He \"had long been watching an opportunity of revenge.\" Appropriately, the \"night was dark and rainy\" when he struck. \"He had sent the footman up to the house for an umbrella\" for his spouse to \"walk up the hill. While she sat in the carriage, the black came out of the stable, passed the two sons and ran a knife into his master who just said: 'He has murdered me' and fell dead.\" Then another master was murdered \"by some ... young blacks.\" They \"overtook him on the road and killed him with clubs. They have confessed the act but no reason can be assigned for their conduct,\" she concluded sadly. They \"did it for frolic,\" apparently; \"one of the boys was only 14, born to the estate.\"\n\nThen there was an attempted insurrection in Rio in the 1840s. \"These reports alarm me very much,\" she cried. \"It seems to be the beginning of a retributive justice mercifully delayed, the distant but certain precursor of the thunder which must break on this benighted land. A few days ago there was another insurrection in preparation up the bay at the foot of the Organ Mountains. On Christmas day they were to march down to the city, secure both arsenals and murder all the whites. People here feel perfect security from the circumstances of the slaves coming from various parts of Africa,\" she said uncertainly, \"and are not as in Bahia, Para, and Rio Grande all of one or two tribes. They speak different languages and are in a state of hostility towards each other at home. The whites believe that they would not cooperate against them,\" she sighed, \"but I think this is a false security. The blacks of different tribes and interests when at home have been here long enough to feel deeply the oppression and cruelty of the whites towards all of that colour. They will one day join heart in hand to avenge it,\" she predicted. \"It will be black against white and the difference is fearfully in their favour as to numbers. The computation is 20 black to one white and daily increasing in the same ratio is ships load of these poor wretches are constantly landed on the coast near Rio and marched down to the market.\" This \"increases my fears,\" she cried, \"and my sleep is often disturbed ... I lay watching for daylight to dispel the gloom and fears of night.\" Was it wise to continue such reckless importation of Africans? Wise\u2014and many others who were not necessarily opposed to slavery itself\u2014thought not.\n\nHer diary is studded with references to Rio being \"in a state of excitement,\" \"conspiracies have been detected, a great many persons of high standing and great fears were entertained that insurrection would break out.\" Though she was turning against the slave trade, she was turning against slaves too. \"I have not as much sympathy for this class of beings,\" i.e., slaves \"as on my arrival here. I hope my heart is not harder,\" she added unconvincingly, \"but I have experienced so much of their ingratitude, treachery and the basest qualities of human beings that I feel they deserve punishment.\" Thus, when her \"patience\" was \"much tried by the black girl's quarrel & loud talk in the kitchen\" of her house and \"finding she would not be quiet,\" Robinson said furiously, \"I whipped her.\" Another time, she \"gave\" a \"sound slap\" to another slave, though this corporal punishment seemed to be coarsening her; \"you might as well slap an elephant as a black; they are proof against such assaults.\" While in Brazil, she was preoccupied with beatings, aborted uprisings, and conspiracies, unpleasant encounters with Negroes, and a series of health issues that may have been psychosomatic and intimately connected to her experience with slavery. Her domestic experience sheds light on Wise's campaign against the slave trade, while at the same time he remained a firm advocate of slavery itself. Even when thousands of miles away from the U.S. South, pro-slavery advocates were straddling the back of an African lion that was both dangerous to ride and dangerous to dismount.\n\nLondon's representative in Rio de Janeiro was thinking along the lines of Mrs. Hunter\u2014and became similarly disillusioned. In 1847, he declared that \"before arriving in Brazil I had heard it averred that there was a great feeling of disquietude pervading the white inhabitants as to the growing disproportion between them and the black races held in bondage and I had counted upon this fear of the future as an element which might be turned to advantage\"\u2014but, sadly he concluded, \"this is not the case.\" The powerful William Marcy, U.S. Secretary of War from 1846 to 1849 and Secretary of State from 1853 to 1857, was similarly opposed to the slave trade due to \"anxiety over 'Africanization,'\" while earlier **Freedom's Journal** pointed to the growing enslaved population of Brazil\u2014and concomitant growing unrest\u2014as a loud warning to Washington: the \"'triumphant reveling in white blood'\" in the Deepest South and the \"daring movement of the slaves, while they were in possession of arms, have caused no small excitement among the white population [there].\"\n\nThis tangled web produced similarly contradictory responses from Washington. In March 1845, John C. Calhoun told Wise's comrade, future U.S. President, James Buchanan, \"I express the hope that Mr. [Henry] Wise may be continued at Brazil. I am sure one better qualified cannot be selected to take his place.\" But, evidently, as the significance of Wise's campaign became clear, Calhoun changed his tune. \"I fear with you,\" he told Thomas G. Clemson, then in Brussels, \"that Wise is pursuing an injudicious course in reference to the slave trade. My instructions to him were full & pointed on the necessity of preserving the most friendly relations with Brazil in every respect. It would be greatly to be regretted, if he has taken any step, calculated to have a contrary effect.\" Wise was running afoul of a powerful faction in Dixie, who clamored for reopening the African Slave Trade\u2014not only in Brazil but also in the U.S. itself. Wise was \"influential\" but also \"opportunistic\" and \"distrusted\" it was said. \"De Bow in Louisiana, Wigfall in Texas, Yancey in Alabama, Ruffin in Virginia and Governor John H. Adams and Maxcy Gregg in South Carolina noisily threw in with the idea\" of \"Leonidas W. Spratt,\" who \"proposed reopening the African slave trade.\" It was felt that \"more Negroes would reduce prohibitively high prices and allow a wider participation in slave ownership.\" Virginians were \"being selfish,\" it was thought, \"by opposing the trade so that Virginian slave-breeding would continue to enjoy high prices within the domestic trade.\" \"We have no right to interfere with the slave trade in other countries,\" said the future secessionist, Jefferson Davis; he was equally \"opposed to the African squadron\" which monitored this commerce. \"What would we say,\" he asked querulously, \"if any other country should take such position towards the United States? ... Our laws should be confined to our own country,\" he insisted. That \"ships of American construction will probably be found in the slave trade,\" received no objection from him.\n\nOn the other hand, African-Americans were not as sympathetic to Wise as might have been imagined. He was a \"Virginia Bragadocio [ _sic_ ],\" and \"foolish\" besides said Frederick Douglass at a time when Wise was clashing with slave dealers, a view not universally shared.\n\nDespite his connections at the highest levels, Wise was becoming a liability. \"The business of chief interest before the Cabinet today,\" President James K. Polk noted in early 1847, \"were our relations with Brazil, which from those of amity had recently been disturbed by an unfortunate occurrence at Rio [de] Janeiro. A riot had taken place among some Americans on shore.\" Instructively and disturbingly, though the U.S. was then enmeshed in a war of aggression against Mexico that would result in the seizing of a quarter of that nation's territory, President Polk was expending valuable time soothing the frazzled nerves of another southern neighbor who feared Washington's territorial designs.\n\nWright clashed with Brazil on financial matters, just as Wise had clashes with this nation about the African Slave Trade\u2014though the two were intertwined. For there were various \"American claims\" that \"Brazil refused to pay,\" which made Wise's complaints even more hard to swallow. Wise was \"an old friend and confidant\" of James Buchanan, with whom he communicated frequently and at length, which put the White House in a sticky position when Lisboa, the Brazilian Minister in Washington \"requested that Wise be recalled.\" Initially, the White House refused; instead, upset over its unresolved financial claims it appeared that gunboat diplomacy \"threatened.\" Shortly thereafter, Wise \"asked for home leave and it was granted. It was a gentle exit and saved face all around\" when the vehement anti\u2013slave trade advocate\u2014and slaveholder\u2014sailed northward back home to Virginia, leaving in shambles the struggle against the massive importation of enslaved Africans to Brazil.\n\nWise's odyssey in Brazil suggested how tensions were rising both within the Slave South and beyond this region's borders as Civil War loomed, for at times it seemed that he was angrier with slave traders in the U.S. Northeast than slave-owners themselves. Moreover, his critique of Brazil complicated his region's ability to gain adherents in South America for this titanic conflict\u2014a prospect that was made more difficult, in any case, due to Brazil's apprehension about the U.S. seizing Mexican territory. This meant that Wise's hostility to London, which otherwise might have received a favorable hearing in Brazil, was vitiated. Brazil had further reason for nervousness about U.S. policies when the California Gold Rush led to the arrival on their shores of tens of thousands of visitors from their North American neighbor.\n\n## **5  \nCrisis**\n\nCharlotte Gardner of Nantucket was one of many U.S. nationals who made her way by ship to California from the eastern U.S. around Cape Horn with a stop in Brazil. Whiling away the weeks on board, she began reading the bestseller, **Uncle Tom's Cabin.** \"Speaking of the effect of reading 'Uncle Tom's Cabin,'\" she confided to her diary in 1852 a story that \"recounts a similar circumstance which occurred,\" i.e., a \"lady whose nervous temperament was so highly excited by the perusal of that now fashionable production gave birth to two young babies of fine physical conformation but whose skin was of the color prevailing in the dominion of the King of Congo. Investigations established the pleasing fact that there had not been a color[ed] person seen in that quarter of the country for three years previously.\" Though she was deeply interested in slavery and Africa, it is unclear if her approaching a site known to be in the process of being swamped with enslaved Africans particularly from Congo influenced her fevered accounts; she did note mordantly that \"yesterday we passed near a vessel which we supposed was a slaver from Rio de Janeiro. She did not show her colors.\" A few years earlier, the U.S. naval officer, Captain William H. Parker, arrived in Rio. \"One of our midshipmen . . . (an oldster) told me that the slaves were brought into Rio; but they could not be seen in consequence of their being painted air color, which of course rendered them invisible! He said that the slaves were landed and taken to a pond outside the city; and the air-colored paint being washed off, they became visible.\"\n\nThough Brazil was thousands of miles away from the U.S., the nature of travel by ship meant that Rio de Janeiro was a necessary stop in the journey from the U.S. Northeast to California, just as Dallas is a necessary stop in flying today from Raleigh to San Francisco. This meant that thousands of U.S. nationals were regularly arriving in Brazil, well on its way to becoming the most formidable slave society on the planet. For many who had never seen this peculiar institution up close, Brazil stirred abolitionist sentiments that contributed to rising national tensions. For others, it reinforced the idea of the normalcy of slavery, thus calcifying existing biases. And for others\u2014like Gardner and Parker\u2014it stirred imaginative fantasies that reflected a terrible crisis induced by slavery and the African Slave Trade.\n\nThere is no precise agreement on the number of U.S. nationals who arrived by sea to California during the Gold Rush, which was ignited in the late 1840s just as the illicit slave trade was booming. \"For the period from April to the end of the year [1849],\" \"tabulations run as high as 91,000, as low as 30,000\" and \"of this number, about 20,000 evidently took the Horn route,\" and \"roughly 70 percent of these were Americans.\" Just as it is highly possible that there was more altering of nationalities in the antebellum era than today between U.S. Negroes and Afro-Brazilians\u2014e.g., the transition of \"Pedro Parris\" from \"African\" to \"Afro-Brazilian\" to \"African American\"\u2014\"it is a historical paradox that a hundred [and fifty] years ago Cape Horn was less remote than it is today.\" \"Seventeen thousand miles of ocean, more or less roll between New England, Cape Horn and California\" and this protracted journey was traversed not in hours in a supersonic jet but in weeks on a listing vessel\u2014with a stop in Brazil.\n\nThere was a \"great change\" in Rio after the Gold Rush; \"last year,\" said one U.S. observer, \"the American vessels of war were put down after all others\u2014English, French, Sardinian, Danish, Belgian, Austrian\u2014everything was put down before our 'vasos de guerra' or vessels of war,\" but \"now, all that is changed\u2014we are the favorites\u2014the great people of the moment,\" he said.\n\nMany of these U.S. nationals had had no direct personal experience with the quotidian horrors of slavery. Brazil, as a result, became a cracked mirror by which many interpreted the rising controversy over bondage in their homeland, often invigorating or engendering abolitionist sentiments or hardening pro-slavery feelings or fears about the implications of \"racial ratios\" favoring Africans.\n\nCertainly, the critical role played on U.S. vessels by African-Americans was not conducive to enlightenment for some of these southward bound visitors. Sailing from Boston to California via Brazil, John Duchow watched as \"one of the colored waiters in the cabin, named Dennis, struck one of the other waiters and the captain put him in irons a short time.\" \"A Negro is not to be trusted,\" was the moral drawn by one Euro-American sojourner after his encounter on board ship, while sailing \"from Boston to San Francisco around Cape Horn\" one national became more sensitive to matters of color.\n\nInterestingly, as this migration westward continued, some Dixie propagandists mused about the \"applicability of slave labor to the soil of Southern California,\" which was \"becoming a theme of discussion in that region, and it is probable that the experiment will one day be tried.\" In August 1850, a ship set sail from Charleston to California with white Southerners and their slaves aboard, bent on establishing a slave colony in the state that would work the gold mines. Like the illicit slave trade itself, where Northerners were prevalent, it was hard to discern angels and devils in this story since the Democrats backed slavery's extension on white supremacist grounds and the nascent Republicans often opposed extension on similar principles, wary of the very presence of the darker-skinned.\n\nThe trip to California via Brazil hardened regional differences in the U.S., further paving the way to Civil War. \"Slavery was a subject that most Forty-Niners avoided,\" concludes the scholar, Donald Jackson, \"but the ardent abolitionists among them were offended by the Rio slave market.\" \"One of the black marks against the land, in the opinion of those from the abolitionist strongholds at home,\" said the writer Oscar Lewis referring to Brazil during the Gold Rush, \"was the open trading in slaves to be seen both at Preia Grande across the harbor . . . and in the great central market in Rio itself.\"\n\nWriting from Rio in early 1849, the '49er, John H. Beeckman, told his \"dearest wife\" that the \"most unpleasant feature\" of this city \"and the one which strikes a northerner with strong feelings of disgust and compassion is slavery,\" as the Africans were \"treated much worse than brutes\" and \"at the caprice of master or overseer beaten over the head.\" \"It completely sickens me,\" he said, \"and hereafter I am an abolitionist of the deepest dye,\" said a man previously without strong convictions on this subject. He did not shrink from seeing Africans rise up, which may have lubricated the path for similar thinking in his homeland: \"if there is to be a revolution,\" he ruminated, \"I hope it will take place while I am here as I feel quite desirous of seeing how these poor miserable Portuguese and Brazilian soldiers, most of whom are black will fight.\" Ruth Nash of Maine also on her way to California noticed at the same time that \"the great and distinctive characteristics of the Brazilians are its slaves and slavery, and one cannot help but shudder to have such sights before his mind, so degrading to humanity, to obtain human beings down to bondage.\" C. S. Stewart, who hailed from the Northern U.S., was irate about the presence in Brazil of U.S. nationals, \"entitled by birth and citizenship to stand beneath the protecting folds of the stripes and stars of our country, who till now have been active agents in, and have shared largely in the emoluments of this wicked outrage,\" meaning slavery.\n\nOf course, there were U.S. nationals in Stewart's homeland who accepted willingly the same \"emoluments\"\u2014a conclusion which arrived at could help to tear asunder the fabric of the nation.\n\nMoreover, it seems that for those \"from the New England and Middle states the Cape Horn route was generally preferred,\" while those \"from the Southern states\" favored \"the Isthmus of Panama or Nicaragua or Mexico\" (which suggests that there were factors inherent in the route west designed to induce an intriguing encounter with slavery from those least likely to have done so previously). Thus, \"the Cape Horn voyage of '49 produced a profound impact on all social levels among the Argonauts, something they never forgot to their dying days.\"\n\nThe influx of these North American '49ers apparently had an impact on Brazil as well. Salvador Ramirez arrived in Rio de Janeiro in March 1849 en route to the Golden West and noticed \"California ships\u2014a dozen\u2014are anchored or dropping their anchors around us.\" A routine followed that many travelers took note of: \"we were . . . boarded by two men-of-war, commanded by midshipmen. . . . They said the people were terribly alarmed at the great influx of Yankees and that the Emperor had ordered a double guard to be placed for the protection of the city and preservation of order.\" The Brazilians, he thought, were \"frightened at the appearance of so many Americans and are much more lenient with them, in fact they dare not molest them at all.\" This was not an easy task to accomplish since Ramirez was \"sorry to say that a great many of the Americans here have disgraced the name outrageously by getting up rows at the hotels both among ourselves and the natives.\"\n\nSuch rowdy behavior may have derived from what Julius Howard Pratt detected when he stopped in Rio de Janeiro during the same era; \"the world has never witnessed so motley and promiscuous a throng in pursuit of a common object as sprang into life simultaneously in the winter of '48 and '49. . . . adventurers, thieves, gamblers, murderers and criminals jostled each other.\" This was bound to induce \"great social upheaval,\" he thought.\n\nThese U.S. citizens were cascading into Brazil at a time when the national anthem veritably was \"Manifest Destiny\" and filibustering expeditions\u2014or armed assaults by a freelance band of U.S. nationals on foreign lands\u2014were all the rage. As such, many of these visitors sized up Brazil, gauging what it would take to take over, oust the regime, and plant the \"stars and stripes\"\u2014a disposition fueled by their contempt for the inhabitants. William L. Carshaw of the U.S. Navy had participated in the war against Mexico in \"lower California and Sonora, Mexico\" and passed through Rio on his way there. Arriving in July 1846, he took detailed notes on \"forts,\" including pointed remarks \"on several hundred large guns . . . mounted\" to defend the city. When the U.S. Navy visited Santa Catarina in Brazil, it was noted carefully that the \"harbour is defended by three forts.\"\n\nMany Brazilians did not take kindly to such attitudes. Mary Smith, on her way to California in 1853, stopped in Rio de Janeiro and was stunned. \"I have heard several . . . Americans say there's not a place on the face of the earth where American vessels have put, where they have so much trouble and vexation as at Rio.\" She visited the \"English Cemetery\" where she saw \"the graves of a number of [New] Englanders\"\u2014though it was unclear if their being buried in Brazil was a direct result of their own \"trouble and vexation at Rio.\"\n\nWhen future Californians poured into Brazil, many in this South American nation nervously compared themselves to recently subdued Mexicans and wondered if a similar fate awaited them. As there were \"something like thirty five hundred Americans perambulating the streets of Rio at all hours bidding defiance to all law and order,\" their fears were not necessarily irrational. A. H. Cazzam, was associated with Peter Remsen, a noted cotton factor, cattle breeder\u2014and slaveholder\u2014from Mobile. He was not upset when in 1849 \"Rosas\" of the Argentine was discussing \"making war with Brazil. If France & England will only let him alone he will wallop Brazil in no time & take Rio Grande do Sul from her\u2014most of the Rio Grande people want to get rid of the Brazilians\u2014they are the most troublesome & rebellious subjects in the Brazilian Empire & altogether the most warlike.\" But this was not just a curious spectator\u2014\"I would . . . join Rosas if he marched into the province,\" he added belligerently.\n\nWhen 23-year-old Horatio Chapman of Connecticut arrived in Rio in 1849, he was suitably impressed\u2014though his positive descriptions seemed to have been influenced by the language of military reconnaissance. \"'It was a fine bay,'\" he thought, \"'surrounded on all sides, except at the entrance by rocks and higher hills; and it was thus strongly fortified by nature as well as by art. Had it been in the hands of the government of the United States,'\" he added, \"'it would have been almost impregnable to any other nation. But as it is owned by the Portuguese, an ignorant and superstitious people, military discipline not being understood by them, notwithstanding there were a great many forts in and around the harbor, yet an intelligent people understanding the art of war might with very little exertion compel them to surrender.'\"\n\nA few years later Henry Beckett arrived in Brazil on his way to the Pacific Northwest; \"speaking of soldiers,\" he said reflectively later, \"their system looked very odd to us. Some regiments are made up of blacks and whites, all colors and all heights. Their crack regiment was picked men, all blacks,\" while the \"city gendarmes, with their short swords, were very officious and mean\"; \"they never missed an opportunity of snatching your pocket knife out of your hand and striking it on a wall and breaking it. Their annoyance and the natural prejudice of Americans with any colored race put in official position over them, brought on quite a number of collisions, our boys generally coming out best.\"\n\n\"There is so many California vessels arrived here lately that the Brazilians are frightened,\" said Joseph Hamilton of South Carolina in March 1849. \"They think they are going to annex Brazil to the U.S. and have posted three times the regular guards all over the place.\" \"There are enough Yankees in port now to take the fort, city and adjacent country and drive every yellow-skinned Braziliano into the mountains,\" thought the visiting Edward Brown in December 1849. \"All the defense that Rio can boast of for the present,\" thought Roger Conant traveling via Rio to the territory of Washington after the Gold Rush, \"is a miserable fort, which a Yankee gun boat could batter down in a[n] hour.\" After noting that some of his fellow U.S. nationals in Rio\u2014\"sorry to say\"\u2014had \"performed acts that would not be permitted in their own country,\" one unnamed visitor who spent 25 days there, observed that \"the city is protected by armed police night and day but they do not give the appearance of being very formidable antagonists.\" Some of his countrymen were told to disperse by these police; yet even though the former were \"unarmed,\" they \"drew up in the order of a charge of cavalry & all being ready the word 'charge' was given and all dashed into the midst of the soldiers [ _sic_ ] dispersing them in every direction.\"\n\nThe complexions of these police and soldiers and those they were sworn to protect seemed to influence how they were perceived by these U.S. visitors and how much force they thought it would take to oust the regime. George Coggeshall was in Rio in 1837 buying coffee bound for New Orleans and concluded quickly that \"it cannot . . . be expected that such [Negro] men will fight, except by compulsion. If their army is as badly organized as their navy, I should think they would make but a feeble resistance in defending their metropolis against any powerful maritime nation.\" Now he held \"no prejudice against them\" but found Brazilians generally \"so deeply imbued with ignorance and superstition, and so firmly wedded to obsolete religious mummeries, that it will take a great many years to transform them to a great people.\" Thomas Williams of Boston arrived in Rio in 1849 and noticed the \"standing army\" which \"was the greatest sight of all,\" as \"they were actually . . . slaves though they looked tolerable [ _sic_ ] well but they seemed to me as though five hundred of Yankees [could] whip the whole of them\" since \"they don't seem to have that life or spirit\" \"that the Americans have,\" he thought. This lack of \"spirit\" was unsurprising since \"they get no pay\"\u2014\"nothing\"\u2014and \"poor living and the worst treatment\"; they were \"nearly all blacks,\" though \"now and then [an] officer with tolerable light complexion but not real white for the white people do nothing at all.\" Another visitor in 1849 noticed that \"in the city & at every village in its vicinity can be found a standing army, mostly all blacks commanded by whites or half breeds, rather weak appearing army on the whole.\"\n\nW. S. W. Ruschenberger in 1848 found the \"standing army of Brazil\" to be \"so small as scarcely to merit the name,\" while the \"navy is not effective . . . and there is no prospect of improvement.\" One anonymous U.S. visitor noted that \"soldiers\" in Rio were \"all colors from white to black, all young men and some mere boys\"; \"they do not appear to be well-disciplined\" to the point where a \"troop of Yankees would make sad havoc among them.\"\n\nA number of these sojourners thought there were inherent reasons that explained why Brazil was supposedly substandard when compared to the U.S. Thomas Ewbank observed that on the Iberian peninsula \"Moorish customs are inherited with Moorish blood and traceable in their colonies,\" e.g., Brazil. This made for \"traits decidedly Oriental\" and \"peculiarly Asiatic,\" especially \"in their tools and processes.\" The \"first tool I recognized at once,\" he said, was \"Roman and Egyptian\" and certainly not on a par with what he knew at home. \"The people are inferior to the Americans,\" opined Milton Stevens in May 1849, \"they are very small in size and swarthy.\" One visitor in 1849 averred that \"the whites are rather dark complection [ _sic_ ] & amalgamating with the Negroes make a population of divers [ _sic_ ] colors\" and lesser stock. C. S. Stewart was repulsed by the \"fearfully mongrel aspect of much of the population, claiming to be white\"; the \"almost unlimited extent of mixed blood\" was horrid, he thought, and \"cannot fail to be revolting.\"\n\nJohn Callbreath noticed that \"'you cannot find a white man doing any kind of work and I do believe if it was not for the Yankees . . . and English the race would run out.'\" Rather astonished, James Orton was dumbfounded to discover that \"'it is generally considered bad taste in Brazil to boast purity of descent.'\" James Lamoureaux Pangburn arrived in Rio in April 1849 and was horrified at the sight of the \"great number of Negroes that everywhere met me. These, to one accustomed to civilized life are truly objects of disgust and I am told compose two thirds of the population.\" Mary Smith a New Englander en route to California was similarly horrified at what she saw. \"The lower class are real Africans,\" she said. \"No one ever need be frightened at homely ugly looking faces at home\u2014they don't know what an ugly face is\u2014positively I would not think possible for any human being to look as ugly as some of the boatmen and slaves here. . . . the idea of remaining three months\u2014it is very unpleasant\" [emphasis-original].\n\nAt the same time, the presence of armed soldiers of darker complexions seemed to send a frisson of apprehension coursing through the veins of some of these visitors, as if\u2014once again\u2014they were witnessing a Haiti magnified or the rise of a darker power or a glimpse of their own futures, none of which were viewed as being particularly appetizing. John Stone arrived in Rio during the rush westward for gold. He found the place \"disgusting\" and \"filthy\" while \"many of the Negroes who make up the chief population live in a state of nature and nudity.\" But what was noticeably striking, he thought, was \"the military display in this great Brazilian capital,\" which \"inspired much dread, the soldiery being made up of coal black Negroes, who at their country's solemn call were ready to risk their lives, their fortunes and their sacred honour . . . and a contact with whom would fill with dismay and horror, all persons with delicate olfactories.\" Worse, these men who were \"armed with muskets and gleaming bayonets\" acted to \"drive any white people who innocently saunter by, from the sidewalks into the muddy streets by rude assault and at the point of bayonet.\" When Samuel Upham \"visited the Emperor's church\" during the Gold Rush era, he was stunned: \"as I crossed the threshold,\" he recalled later, \"the first object that met my eye was one of the Emperor's guards, whose complexion was a shade lighter than the ace of spades, with a musket at his shoulder and stationed near the altar\" as \"worshipers of all ages, complexions and conditions were kneeling about the church.\" L. M. Schaeffer was part of the 1849 Gold Rush and stopped in Rio in May and was stunned similarly.\n\nThese guests from the U.S. at times tested the limits of tolerance of their hosts, leading to confrontations with which U.S. nationals were not accustomed: spats with armed African men. In 1846, sailors from the USS Saratoga were on leave in Rio and, typically, were \"rather inebriated and creating a noise in the streets,\" when they were \"violently assaulted by the police of that city,\" who \"rushed them with drawn swords\" and detained them forcibly. Minister Henry Wise \"informed\" the authorities that if they were \"not released,\" he \"would open the batteries of the U.S. frigate Columbia on the town.\" The sailors were released but that did not halt the repetitive friction between the two nations as Washington was \"continually complaining of insults offered to our flag, continued annoyances in the Custom-House and fines, not lawful, imposed upon them.\" As the U.S. saw it, their visitors were pouring money into Brazil's economy, not to mention the \"importation of millions of bags of coffee annually\" from that nation and the vessels \"bound to California with passengers\" which \"touched at that port for supplies.\" The Brazilians should recognize, it was said, that the U.S. had \"the power of resenting insults\"\u2014and they could have added that they were not pleased by being \"insulted\" by darker authorities.\n\nViolent confrontations between U.S. nationals and Brazilians were not uncommon; in 1849, two of the former were murdered after a particularly brutal encounter in Santa Catarina, Brazil. On another occasion in Rio two U.S. nationals were slain, \"whereupon the Argonauts armed themselves and drove all the [Brazilian] soldiers into the mountains and took possession of the place.\" Passing through Rio in 1850, John R. McFalan spoke of the famed \"Sugar Loaf\" mountain where \"it is said . . . a daring Californian got access to its summit and placed there the American flag; with a telescope,\" he added.\n\nThe fascination of these visitors  with their hosts' complexions\u2014even those presumably in the elite\u2014was palpable. John Esaias Warren made it to the Amazon as the Gold Rush was unfolding and found it worthy of note that \"in the selection of officials no regard whatever is paid to color. The president himself was a woolly-headed mulatto, and, not only that, but he was reputed to be the son of a padre; and as the padres are excluded from matrimony by the statutes, his genealogy certainly cannot be of the most honorable character.\"\n\nRichard Morton of Virginia was not as dispassionate about this same phenomenon. \"This morning I breakfasted with a black man,\" he said a few years after the Gold Rush's height; it was \"no uncommon thing for a free black man to be invited to the table with white persons,\" he added, \"but I had hoped never to make one of the number, but this morning one as black as the ace of spades sat opposite me at the table.\" He was not happy about this. \"I felt really mean, I could not object however without offence to my very kind host, gratitude & politeness both bade me endure it.\" Morton seemed to be undergoing a kind of racial crisis, simultaneously befuddled and outraged by what he was experiencing. His attitude did not improve as he was ambling along a road \"on foot & was attacked by three large boys\" and, he said, \"had to use my stick dexterously to keep them off & have now only one regret on the subject viz: that [I did] not whip the black to whom [they] belonged.\" Later after finishing dinner at the home of a friend, his travail continued as a \"dance commenced & there not being ladies sufficient for the men, the mulatto girls were brought in to fill up & some three or four of them occupied the floor during the whole evening (there always about the large fazendas [plantations] a number of bright mulattos, generally the whitest & best looking members of the establishment, who stay about the house as companions. . . . for they do no work).\" Yet Morton refused to take advantage of this titillating situation\u2014or so he said. \"I was never tempted to take part in the dance,\" he sniffed, \"& never except to oblige others.\" He did deign to cross gender borders, however, as he was \"importuned by a 'fellow of my height' to dance as his 'vis-\u00e0-vis'\" and the gracious Morton was \"in the act of consenting when he led me across the room & took one mulatto girl & told me to take another just be her side for my partner, but I could not 'go that' & declined on the spot most emphatically much to his discomfiture\" though \"no one else [there] seemed to have much preference.\"\n\nMorton was continually taken by surprise at the patterns he was witnessing that were so unlike his native Virginia. He \"saw\" a \"young lady with a naked black child in her arms . . . hugging & kissing it [ _sic_ ].\" He had \"no disposition to get any 'closer' to her than was necessary as a result.\" He was taken to meet an upstanding member of society and, \"to my utter astonishment he turned out to be Chinese, he stands very high in the community\u2014is said to be the best man about here; I never before heard of a Chinese rising to respectability anywhere.\" Then he discovered this gentleman was \"not a Chinese but a native of Bombay, India & his parents are Brahmins, he was educated for a priest but at 21 he declined taking orders & came to Mozambique . . . where he had an uncle\" then to Rio \"where [he] had a relative.\" He studied medicine, became a doctor, and \"made a little fortune\"; despite Morton's astonishment at his presence \"he was extremely kind to me,\" he felt, \"I never met with more kindness anywhere\" [emphases-original]. Morton's continuously stunned reaction was reflective of a larger \"racial crisis\" in an encounter with a nation whose \"race rules\" seemed to differ from his own, thus casting doubt on whether the U.S. course was universal or \"natural\"\u2014or could be dislodged ultimately.\n\nStill, some of these U.S. nationals were taken by the horrible spectacle that was human bondage. Those not familiar with this practice were noticeably repulsed and revolted. J. L. Ackerman was making his way to California from Boston via Brazil during the Gold Rush when he found himself in Rio. It was \"as great a slave market as there is in the world. I was astonished,\" he said using a word that frequently peppers narratives of U.S. visitors to Brazil, \"at the vast number of slaves to be seen in the square and about the landing, they have to perform all kinds of drudgery, you will see no trucks and drays for hauling goods here as you will in the States, all is done by slaves.\" The sight of these \"poor slaves\" touched his heart. \"The first thing that drew my attention on landing,\" he asserted, was a \"poor slave, a brute in human shape was applying a raw hide to his back with all his might. It made my blood chill within me at the sight. I thought to myself that I should like to have my will of the brute for a short time. I would give him slavery to his heart's content,\" he warned. This trip \"was the first time I ever had slaves under my authority,\" he said, \"but I did not abuse that authority\"\u2014unlike what he had witnessed, as his abolitionist sentiments flowered.\n\nSamuel Adams had managed a drugstore in Brooklyn before pulling up stakes and heading for California gold in December 1849. Arriving in Rio he found that \"one of the most unpleasant things I saw . . . was a gang of tall straight able-bodied blacks chained together round their neck, there were sixteen in all.\" This too sparked abolitionist sentiments within him: \"the great slaveholder,\" he thought, \"is fastening around the souls and bodies of our young men and women too, their disregard of everything relating to their best and most precious interests.\" Milton Stevens cried to his \"Dear Mother\" that in Brazil \"they have slaves by the thousands and treat them very cruel. I have seen them whip[ped] . . . some of them chained together. . . . they are all marked like sheep and some of them are naked.\"\n\nWhile in Rio, Samuel Upham \"saw a Negro who was afflicted with the elephantiasis, one of the most loathsome diseases imaginable, but quite common in this country. His left leg was swollen to nearly the size of his body, and from the knee downward protruded excrescences as large as English walnuts. The skin of the diseased limb appeared rough and scaly and several of the toes had dropped off the foot. I saw others,\" he recalled with disgust, \"afflicted with this disease who had lost their lips and noses.\"\n\nJames Woods arrived in Rio in August 1849 and was greatly displeased by what he saw. \"Not infrequently when a slaver is chased by a man-of-war,\" he noted with horror, \"they throw the slaves overboard to prevent detection. . . . A tale was related last night which was truly horrible,\" he observed. \"A slaver was pursued by a man-of-war lest he should be found in possession of slaves and be declared and treated as a pirate; he had all the slaves brought out and fastened by means of a rope extending around the vessel, on the outside of the vessel, so that with one blow of the axe they could all be dropped in the ocean. Slavery is an awful terrible curse. But language cannot describe the horrors of the slave trade. . . . the poor Africans!\" he moaned, \"the whole world is against him. . . . very justly have the United States and Great Britain declared the slave trade piracy. . . . oh what a terrible cause is slavery and the slave trade how supremely horrible.\" The mundane sights of oppression seemed to numb. \"Saw a dead Negress on the beach,\" said one visitor blandly in 1849, \"saw dead nigger [ _sic_ ] towed by canoe toward shore caulkers.\" On his way from the eastern U.S. to California, James Woods sailed through Rio; \"soon after breakfast,\" he observed, \"the dead body of a poor Negro came floating past the vessel. It was a dreadful sight. The remarks of some of the passengers on the occasion were light and trifling\" in response.\n\nSalvador Ramirez was taken by the sight of a \"great number of aged slaves, who being of no further use are turned out to die gradually, I saw hundreds of [such] hideous spectacles.\" \"Loafers,\" which were \"such a nuisance in the United States,\" were \"here entirely unknown, no collections of people are seen here on the corners of the streets,\" said one U.S. visitor. Put simply, said James T. Jones visiting Rio in 1844, a \"Brazilian slave is a real slave. An American slave, no slave at all\" [emphasis-original].\n\nVisitors from the North were also moved by the labor that slaves were compelled to perform. \"One finds among them all sorts of mechanics,\" said C. B. Richard in the late 1840s; \"they are almost the only carriers of burdens one finds in Rio. . . . half of them sing the refrain, frequently the word 'coffee' or the name of the article they happen to be carrying . . . the other half renders the accompaniment with a monotonous boom, boom.\" In the \"long but very narrow and dirty streets\" there were \"large, bare and neglected public squares\" dotted with \"shackled slaves . . . having run away a few times are now forced to carry a fetter that they cannot remove\u2014usually an iron ring around the neck with iron horns . . . thus they are recognizable to the police.\" Other slaves chose to \"roam the streets half-naked in quest of a livelihood\" which was \"not an agreeable sight to a stranger.\"\n\nSalvador Ramirez wondrously declared that \"what strikes the stranger in this country is the immense number of slaves.\" They were \"at every corner\"\u2014\"you are constantly surrounded by them, groups of slaves of all sizes, who make quite an income for their masters by carrying water to the city and supplying the inhabitants. . . . I noticed that their heads as a general thing are bare of hair upon the top on account of this constant friction\" from carrying loads on their heads. One visitor heard of a \"Negro who carried a barrel of flour 20 miles on his head!\"\u2014which was not uncommon since \"a large portion of the transporting of goods from one part of the city to the other is done by Negroes. They have a kind of dray which is drawn by Negroes, generally about 5 to a dray, one at the pole, two at the wheels and two to push behind.\" Instead of \"oxen\" or \"mules,\" Brazilians used Africans. C. H. Keefe in 1849 observed something similar. \"Having but very few horses,\" in Rio, the enslaved \"actually have to work harder than most of our horses at home. I have seen them go in squads of 20 or 30 with all the furniture of a house on their heads, some with tables, others with sofas and chairs, on a kind of dog trot singing 2 or 3 words which one sings and the rest join in a chorus of 'yam yah' or 'wol wor' or something similar.\"\n\nAlbert Lyman did not miss the \"great excess of the slave over the white population in Rio. . . . the former are nearly five times more numerous than the latter\" and \"usually go in gangs of from twelve to thirty, sometimes yoked together with heavy necklaces of iron and attended by a driver. . . . they move along at a slow trot, humming a monotonous refrain the words of which are often changed.\"\n\nAnother unidentified visitor in 1849 noticed that these \"poor, degraded & oppressed beings\" were involved in tasks that \"would seem incredible if not related by those who are entitled to full belief,\" \"such as carrying a single umbrella, a cup of coffee, a small vase of flowers and the like on their heads\" or pulling a \"water cart, similar to the water carts of New York except being pushed and pulled along by Negroes instead of drawn by a horse.\" M. J. Randall observed that \"the ladies, who can afford it, are carried about in palanquins, by two or four Negroes.\" Visiting Rio in 1858, the Virginian, Richard Morton, found that it was not appropriate for Euro-Brazilians \"to carry [any] bundle; no matter how small, in your hand, through the streets; you must have a black to carry it for you\" [emphasis-original].\n\nOn his way to California from Boston, Thomas Williams arrived in Rio in 1849 and immediately observed that \"the boatmen were all black and they were a ragged set of beings, the most they had on was a coarse piece of cloth around their loins without hats or shoes or anything in the shape of a garment for it appears that the whites do no labour at all,\" which was \"disgraceful\" as \"the Negroes are their cattle to do all labour.\" He visited a slaughter house and found it \"disgusting\" that \"no white man [was] to be seen at any kind of labour,\" while the Africans were a sight, \"blood running down the faces and over the shoulders and back to their heels, of all such sights this was the most filthy.\" Dumbfounded, he wrote, \"I have seen a slave with three bags of coffee on his head at one time and close at his heels . . . another with a barrel of flour on his head.\" There were \"no privies in the houses\" and in his hotel, \"he was shown to a room and in a few minutes a slave entered with a tub and actually [stayed] in the room while [he] eased himself,\" then carted the night soil away. \"The poor slave . . . dare not murmur nor complain, or the lash is laid on his back which is always bare.\" Slavery, he concluded, was \"the curse of curses\" and, thus, said Williams, \"I was happy to leave Rio with all its beauties and splendor.\"\n\nA nameless visitor concurred, mourning that a \"stranger here whose affections are far away with those he loves, cannot but sympathize with these poor fellow creatures who have been taken by violence from their homes, their wives and their children, and enslaved in a foreign country, where hope cannot befriend them!\" \"I would rather, a thousand times, be a sheep, pig, or ox, have freedom, food and rest for a season, and then be knocked on the head,\" observed Thomas Ewbank of Brazil, \"then be a serf on some plantations.\" \"Here are slave dealers,\" he lamented, \"who weep over the legendary sufferings of a saint, and laugh at worse tortures they themselves inflict.\" Like animals, slaves \"at night\" were \"locked up in cells,\" but unlike animals, this was \"done to keep their slaves from any outbreak or insurrection which is constantly feared.\"\n\nOf course, there were other U.S. nationals, including non-Virginians, who were not angered by the slavery they saw but, instead, quickly adjusted to it. There was a famous \"Captain Cathcart,\" who was \"well known to Americans calling at Santa Catarina,\" Brazil. He was an \"American whaling captain who, upon returning to Nantucket after a long voyage, learned that his wife had been unfaithful during his absence. He divorced her and immediately set sail. At a stop in Santa Catarina he fell in love with the daughter of the local governor, sold his ship and cargo (which did not belong to him) and set himself up as a plantation owner\" and rather rapidly \"gained a great ascendancy over the simple people\" there; he owned a \"large plantation and several Negro slaves.\" Typical of that time was the fact that Cathcart for a while acted as a U.S. diplomat there.\n\nBut whether budding abolitionists or flame-throwing advocates of bondage, U.S. travelers in Brazil were generally unenthusiastic about this nation. **Godey's Lady Book,** published in Philadelphia, was not known to have a significant Negro readership; yet, their correspondent, just back from Petropolis, \"where the Emperor has a palace\" was at one of that region's \"very poor hotels. At one of these I was staying recently,\" it was said, \"when there arrived a family, consisting of a young gentleman with his wife, his wife's sister, a young lady of sixteen years of age, a black nurse, and a baby. _They all occupied the same bedroom!_ And this not from necessity. . . . these were _highly respectable_ people, of the best families of the place\"\u2014\"this fact speaks volumes,\" it was concluded triumphantly [emphasis-original]. \"A more miserable dirty place I never saw,\" said Daniel S. Hayden, who stopped there on his way from Maine to California. \"The houses are low & the streets narrow & full of blacks of all conditions from the officer in power to the beggar with no finger or toes\"; besides \"yellow fever\" abounded. Another unidentified sojourner arriving in May 1850 also detected the \"prevalence of the yellow fever,\" with \"about thirty thousand persons [having] fallen victims to it since January.\" The \"filthiness of the inhabitants\" was revolting. The inadequate plumbing system was an abomination to one U.S. visitor; \"at night these tubs [carrying human waste] are carried off on the heads of Negroes and emptied into the harbor\"; \"this is done after nine o'clock at night, at which time the streets are filled with Negroes, with these tubs on their heads, which creates often a very unpleasant odor!\" Ruth Nash of Maine declared that Rio was a \"very filthy city,\" with \"streets\" being \"narrow and dirty. The gutters are in the middle of the street where a stream of water runs which emits a very disagreeable smell.\" There were \"dead bodies . . . laid out in the green house. Those of the poorer classes and slaves are thrown into a trench where they are sprinkled with lime, placing one layer on another until the trench is filled. The crowded state of the place of internment [ _sic_ ] is evident from the numbers of skulls and bones laying about, some still with the flesh adhering to them.\"\n\nU.S. visitors often tended to view Brazil as a sewer of iniquity and corruption, a situation that some also tied to enslavement. \"'A married man is excusable so far from [home],'\" said one U.S. husband in search of prostitutes in the \"Deepest South,\" \"'and the prices were reasonable in Rio.'\" One wrote a \"poem to 'The Slave Girl at Rio,'\" drooling about \"'her bosom's swelling outlines' to her 'dark and lustrous eye' and then came his penultimate admission: 'I should I knew see naught on earth \/ So beautiful again,'\" before adding tellingly, \"'but 'twas no use to figger in setting up a wail; for she's the blackest nigger that I saw out of jail.'\" Also driven to verse, another would-be Whitman spoke of \"'where rivers of liquor are flowing[,] where each step in the street dark damsels we meet, tempting us to buy their bananas to buy-o; we cannot begin to set forth our chagrin at leaving thee; City of Rio.'\"\n\nThe mason and farmer, Samuel Whiting of Rhode Island\u2014who fought with the North during the Civil War\u2014perceived an \"intemperance and licentiousness\" that \"seem to abound here,\" speaking of Rio. \"What is still more disgraceful,\" he groused, was that \"more or less of nearly every California company that stops here helps to swell the tide of this iniquity,\" as \"there were some who drank to excess.\" Henry Beckett, though he was on his way to the Pacific Northwest and not California, may have been the kind of man conjured up by Whiting; approaching Brazil he rhapsodized since \"in viewing Rio from the sea it makes one think of the Elysian fields of a Mohammedan paradise with the beautiful girls, which, they say, were made to tempt the youth and torment the men.\"\n\nThomas Williams of Boston found \"some very handsome black women\" in Brazil, adding \"but for their colour they would be very handsome and as good looking as most women but it makes every heart sick to see their degradation but it is and likely to remain.\" Albert Lyman saw \"Negro women . . . lounging about the fountain near where we landed, chattering away in a strange gibberish like monkeys.\" Thomas Ewbank observed that in Brazil \"neither age nor sex is free from iron shackles. I met this morning a very handsome Mozambique girl with a double-pronged collar on; she could not have been over sixteen.\" Richard Morton of Virginia, after being in Brazil for over a month, bewailed that the \"only pretty Brazilian woman\" he had \"yet seen\" was his host's wife\u2014and she was \"white too\" [emphasis-original]. \"I have for two months been in a country,\" he complained, \"where there are scarcely any pretty women.\" Levi Holden was in Brazil a few years earlier and \"did not see any pretty women. They had the sallow complexions of Indians without the healthy glow in the cheeks & lips, these latter being of a leaden and healthy hue.\" \"The ladies here, as a general rule,\" were \"very dark,\" said one Philadelphia-based periodical, and \"very ugly. In no part of the world can so much ugliness and so few good looks be met . . . nowhere does the female sex possess so little attraction.\" This supposed trait was tied to morals since \"at a very early age, sometimes at twelve years old, she is married\" and \"conversation, of course, these ladies have none. What can they talk about?\"\n\n\"Father & daughter, brother & sister dwell together as man & wife, among both higher and lower classes,\" thus the \"moral desolation which pervades the whole country,\" concluded one Virginian.\n\nMost of these visitors were men and their reactions to Brazilian women were striking. But their reactions may have been skewed because \"another feature of Brazilian society,\" as Reverend L. J. Hall put it, was \"the exclusion of females from the public gaze.\" J. D. B. Stillman concurred, declaring \"there is no animation in Brazil\u2014no social sound, no voice of mirth,\" one reason being \"woman is a slave! She is illiterate and suspected. Women are not allowed to frequent the streets, day or night.\" He did not \"see any females, except [those that] are blacks!\" This too may have pushed these numerous visitors in a perverted cycle of revulsion and attraction into the \"bosom's swelling outlines\" of poor African women. Slavers preferred men to women, in any event, then\u2014according to one U.S. visitor\u2014discouraged their slaves from having children, as they can get them from Africa with less expense than they can \"raise them at home\"; thus, he \"saw very few children.\"\n\nA. H. Cazzam of the U.S. was unimpressed with the southernmost part of South America generally. He found those of Buenos Ayres to be a \"very healthy & handsome race of people\u2014much handsomer than the Brazilians,\" who, of course, had a larger African population. Yet, like Brazil, he found there a \"laxity in their morals\" too \"that might shock you at first sight. . . . for instance, a great many respectable people received into society & who visit all the parties & balls have had children before they were married. . . . such as the husband being a priest or the wife a nun.\" He struggled toward moral relativism\u2014\"it is impossible to do justice to judge one nation by any standard of conventional morals that belong to another nation\"\u2014but still he had much to object to among his hemispheric neighbors.\n\nU.S. nationals were flowing into Rio at a time when anti-Catholicism was proliferating back home and this too marked their presence there, making them feel that the residents were not worthy of this vast land and, perhaps, those from the North should substitute for them. \"I could not conceive why any mortal man can be so very superstitious as to believe in a religion like this,\" said Ralph Cross Pendleton, speaking of Catholicism in Brazil during his 1852 visit from New York. One U.S. visitor met a \"gentleman\" in Brazil in 1852, who \"had once resided in Virginia,\" who expressed \"unqualified disgust of the Roman Catholic religion.\" James Woods en route to the Gold Rush made his way to Rio and was acidulous in referring to this \"great city almost wholly given to idolatry.\" Others thought that this religion was a profound cofactor in the subordination of enslaved Africans. \"A custom is observed here, and I am told in well-regulated families in Brazil, which,\" said C. S. Stewart in 1856, \"were it anything more an unmeaning form would be interesting. It is the asking of a blessing from the master every morning and every evening at the close of the day's work by all the slaves, of both sexes and of every age . . . the slaves as they present themselves merely exclaiming, in all manner of intonations of voice and in every mood of humor\u2014'Jesus Christ!'\u2014while the master, be he talking or laughing, eating or drinking, or in whatever way employed, without any interruption and seemingly without any regard to the import of the salutation, as abruptly replies, 'Siempre!' [ _sic_ ] 'Forever!'\"\n\nThe irascibly racist Richard Morton of Virginia pointed out \"another custom . . . of the blacks, when they first see you in the morning or if they meet you on the road, they hold their hands & say, '. . . Jesus Christo,' & you are expected to reply, 'a dios,' they also do the same thing when they come in from work at night. . . . the expression means 'praised be our Lord Christ Jesus.'\"\n\nWilliam Edwards, the former U.S. diplomat in Buenos Ayres, who visited Brazil in 1847, discerned that \"every morning and evening the blacks knelt in devotion. Upon certain evenings all of them, and some of the neighbors, would come together and for an hour chant the Portuguese hymn in wild tones, but very pleasing. A lamp was constantly kept burning in this chapel. Similar customs [obtained nationally] and by many of the planters the blacks are trained up rigidly to the performance of these observances.\"\n\nHence, though many U.S. visitors viewed Brazil negatively as a morass of enslavement and religious rigor mortis, others thought\u2014when compared to the U.S.\u2014Africans were advantaged and African-Americans in the U.S. were among these. Frederick Douglass frequently evoked the example of Brazil repeatedly to indict U.S. slavery. \"Indeed,\" said his paper, the **North Star** in 1848, \"in many countries, where multitudes of Africans and their descendants have been long held slaves, no prejudice against color has ever existed. This is the case in Turkey, Brazil and Perisa. In Brazil there are more than two million of slaves. Yet some of the highest offices of state are filled by black men. . . . hundreds of Roman Catholic clergy are black and colored men, these minister to congregations made up indiscriminately of blacks and whites.\" \"If the colored man can rise from degradation to respectability in Brazil,\" said Douglass in 1858, \"with the same treatment he can rise here. If he can be esteemed as a man by the Portuguese, he can be so esteemed by Anglo-Saxons and Celts.\" \"Take slavery as it existed in Cuba or in the Brazils [ _sic_ ], or anywhere else,\" said Douglass later, \"it was nowhere so destructive of all the rights of humanity as slavery in the United States.\"\n\nIn a perverse way, Richard Morton of Virginia made an argument that dovetailed with Douglass's, otherwise his diametric opposite. \"As a general thing,\" he said with emphasis, \"one of our Southern blacks does more work than two blacks in Brazil, I am competent to gauge.\" Brazilian slaves \"cannot compare at all with those of Va. [ _sic_ ] except the blacks 'who work the coffee.'\" Accidentally, Morton here also touched on a reason why slavery hampered the development of the productive forces in Brazil, as the proliferation of enslaved Africans, often rebellious, hindered the economy. \"The mechanics here are mostly slaves,\" said Samuel Upham, \"a Yankee mechanic would perform as much labor in one day as two slaves in the same length of time.\" Euro-Brazilians, thought John Beeckman, were \"slow of belief and seem rather inclined to risk their capital and credit in the slave trade to the coast of Africa than send their vessels to the Eldorado of America. Every merchant here is either directly or indirectly engaged in slave traffic\u2014at which their government winks.\"\n\nOn the other hand, Thomas Ewbank argued that \"here\" in Brazil \"are many wealthy people of color. I have passed black ladies in silk and jewelry, with male slaves in livery behind them. . . . several have white husbands.\" Even Brazilian slaves seemed advantaged\u2014\"I have now seen slaves working as carpenters, masons, pavers, printers, sign and ornament painters, carriage and cabinet makers, fabricators of military ornaments, lamp-makers, silversmiths, jewelers and lithographers,\" while \"some write Arabic fluently and are vastly superior to most of their masters.\" \"The slaves in this city,\" said Samuel Upham speaking of Rio, \"appear to be well treated and seem happy. I asked several if they would like to return to Africa. Their reply was: 'me no like to go back to Africa among the nigger thieves!'\" Free Negroes were thought relatively advantaged compared to their counterparts, not to mention slaves in the hemisphere, not least since there in Rio \"they wear shoes; the slaves invariably go barefooted.\" Yet, whether one were an abolitionist like Douglass or opposed to same, like Morton, Brazil was evoked readily as a basis for either argument. Brazil seemed to harden the sentiments of abolitionists and pro-slavery advocates alike, thus hastening the lurch toward Civil War.\n\nIronically, the images transmitted about Brazil in the mid-19th century by U.S. visitors may have been more graphic, numerous, and important than any images rendered since by similar sojourners. Slavery in Rio de Janeiro left an indelible impression upon those on their way to California. But their compatriots\u2014particularly Matthew Fontaine Maury of Virginia\u2014had a different view of Brazil; he appreciated this South American nation so much that he thought it would be a good idea to seize some of its territory.\n\nMatthew Fontaine Maury. An eminent Virginian, Maury was a commander of the Confederate States Navy during the Civil War. He also had designs on the Amazon, including a plan to deport enslaved African-Americans there. Courtesy Library of Congress.\n\n## **6  \nThe U.S. to Seize the Amazon?**\n\nA street is named for him in Richmond, an oil portrait of him hangs in the Virginia State Library, a county in Tennessee has been named after him, along with a wing of the Naval Academy at Annapolis and a destroyer, not to mention his prominence at the University of Virginia where his name is inscribed on the frieze of the Rotunda. This \"internationally famous man\" is credited with the founding of an entirely new science, the \"physical geography of the sea,\" known today as oceanography, which \"revolutionized merchant traffic on the high seas.\" It was he who was substantially responsible for the \"impressive performance\" of antebellum U.S. vessels with the \"publication\" of his \"charts of ocean winds and currents, which showed that the fastest course under sail was not always the shortest in miles,\" thereby facilitating the mass migration of the Gold Rush via Brazil and Cape Horn and the illicit mass migration of Africans across the Atlantic. His \"fertile brain conceived the Panama Canal\" before it was built and \"fifteen years before the Pony Express we find him advocating a monthly overland service to Oregon.\" His works went through 19 editions in Britain and were translated into eight languages.\n\nHe received \"honors from universities, acclamation from nearly 50 learned societies, and decorations from Emperors, Kings, and Pope Pius IX\" and \"authorship of a memorial for the free navigation of the Amazon which was endorsed by the 14-state economic congress, the Memphis Convention and presented to the U.S. House of Representatives of 3 March 1854.\" Tens of thousands of copies of a report on the Amazon he initiated were printed, which was \"clear evidence of the intense interest generated by the exploration\" there he sponsored.\n\nHe is still a celebrated Virginian, comparable to \"Stonewall\" Jackson or Robert E. Lee. Yet Matthew Fontaine Maury not only devised a scheme to send U.S. Negroes to Brazil, but he also exceeded the most anti-union elements among secessionists in his zeal in collaborating with foreign powers against Washington during the Civil War, a development that was a logical extension of the former proposal, both reflecting his view of national boundaries as impermanent and transitory. For it was Maury who \"engaged in a long series of negotiations with the Emperor Napoleon of France and the Archduke Maximilian of Austria concerning the separation of California from the United States and its restoration to Mexico as a reward for French intervention on the side of the South\" during the Civil War.\n\nBefore this later cartographic scheme, in the 1850s, Maury devised a plan to transfer enslaved Africans in the U.S. from the South to Brazil, the Deepest South. If Brazil could get slaves from the U.S. instead of Africa, the number of slaves in the U.S. would be cut down and the kidnapping and buying of new slaves from Africa would be prevented\u2014hence, the implication of the crusade of his compatriot, Henry Wise. As he saw it, the law of supply and demand would facilitate this massive movement southward, just as it had already supposedly played a role in the Negro transfer from the northern to the southern U.S. He did not believe southern slaveholders would consent to the freedom of their property without being paid and, conveniently, he was of the opinion that the desire of the Brazilians for slaves would meet the desire of a good many of those in the U.S. to dispose of their slaves at the market price: it was the logic of the Virginia slave-breeder, the same mentality that had impelled Wise toward opposing the African Slave Trade so vociferously. Ultimately, this cleansing of the U.S. South of Africans would serve to, at least, reduce slavery\u2014and the number of Negroes\u2014in that nation, just as it would increase it in Brazil. Maury, who was lame as a result of a severe fall from a stagecoach in 1839, which disqualified him for further active service on land or sea, then turned his fecund and mobile intellect to the seas, devising schemes that placed Brazil in the bull's-eye.\n\nSending U.S. Negroes elsewhere was an idea that was not unique to Maury, as this notion was often seen as complementary to emancipation. There was talk in the 1840s about settling U.S. Negroes in \"British Guiana,\" on the northern coast of South America, close to Brazil. Nor was Maury unique in having designs on the Amazon, as this region was \"potentially . . . one of the richest of the globe\"; the \"entire river system\" drained \"areas of some 1,722,000 square miles, or over twice the estimated drainage region of the Mississippi and its tributaries.\" Monroe Edwards of Texas was in and out of Rio de Janeiro in the 1830s, once listening carefully as he was told that because the prices of \"'colonial produce'\" were \"'unusually high and that regulates the demand for slaves. The prices will stimulate the planters to enlarge their cultivations extensively. They cannot do this without an increase of slaves, and I should not be surprised if the next year saw seventy thousand wool heads taken from the coast.'\" He and his friend then repaired to the U.S. Consul to get papers to facilitate their going to Africa on business; they were worried but \"found the Consul remarkably indifferent to everything.\" Slave trading was nothing new for Edwards, as he had been active in supplying his nation, Texas, and, in the process, had become a \"rich man; one of the richest in Texas.\" He considered establishing an enterprise in the Amazon, \"far enough in the interior to be beyond the supervision of any active authority\"; these \"distant plains though hidden from the eye of nations and beyond the immediate observation of the effeminate power of the Brazilian government\" were \"nevertheless within a step of the great high roads of the world.\" As he saw it, if he could get a \"thousand men together there . . . no South American state\" could \"bring sufficient force together to dislodge us.\" Nevertheless, as a self-confessed \"forger and swindler,\" Edwards's words have to be viewed cautiously, if not suspiciously.\n\nYet there is little doubt that there were U.S. nationals with grand plans for the Amazon, licit and illicit. This is why in 1856 \"plenipotentiaries\" representing many South American nations \"signed a Treaty of Union at Santiago that among other things\" sought to define \"filibustering,\" which was seen as \"piracy\" and \"pledged mutual aid against invasions, and invited all other Latin states to join the alliance.\"\n\nIt appeared that as early as the 1830s, U.S. business was doing a better job of penetrating the Amazon than their French and British competitors. Symptomatic were the plans of the U.S. businessman, Peter Remsen. A cotton factor and cattle breeder from Mobile, he represented a trend that seemed to be growing as the antebellum era was coming to an end\u2014a kind of \"slave imperialism,\" whereby southern entrepreneurs were exporting capital and seeking to continue the existence of human bondage. In 1847, he was involved in planning to operate a \"steam boat\" on the \"River Amazon.\" High of forehead with blue eyes, an oval face, sandy hair, and short of build\u2014an unimposing 5\u20327\u2033 tall\u2014Remsen had imposing plans, nevertheless, for this vast largely unexplored region.\n\nHe was not alone. Even then there was an \"American society\" in the principal town of that area, Para, that was deemed \"rather more sociable and friendly with one another than they are at Rio, perhaps because there is less fashion, less show and less pretense among them\"; moreover, on this raw frontier\u2014\"this place does not contain over 12,000 inhabitants\"\u2014\"rents\" were \"uncommonly low. . . . servants\"\u2014i.e., enslaved Africans\u2014\"can be purchased low, say from $200 to $250 and hired for three or four dollars a month.\"\n\nYet amid such favorable conditions for U.S. nationals in Brazil, there were significant concerns. As some saw it, London\u2014the ubiquitous foe\u2014displayed more \"energy & resolution\" in \"protecting the rights of British subjects\" than their U.S. counterparts. \"By playing upon the fears of the Brazilians, although they heartily detest her, Great Britain gets all her claims paid promptly; whilst we, who . . . get nothing from them but interminable delay & evasions.\" For \"more than twenty years\" this \"entreaty and patience\" had \"been unable to accomplish anything\" and a \"decent respect for our national rights of honor, demands that other measures should now be tried.\" What was needed was \"authorization to demand immediate settlement, backed by ten or a dozen vessels of war ready to blockade Rio, would accomplish more in twenty four hours than our pacific & affectionate diplomacy has accomplished in as many years.\"\n\nU.S. business interests, pressuring the U.S. government to engage in gunboat diplomacy on their behalf, was not just limited to the Amazon. During the same period, the same issue arose at Pernambuco, as the commanding officer of the USS Bainbridge was told about \"political intrigues\" and \"violent animosities\" that could lead to \"much bloodshed and destruction of property.\" Concern was raised about the impact on \"lives or even the property of our fellow countrymen,\" and an urgent request was made for this ship to \"pay a visit as it is now more than a year since any American ship of war has been here\"; this \"would no doubt have a very salutary influence at present, particularly as no armed vessel of any nation is on this part of the coast.\"\n\nYet even in more developed Pernambuco, pressure was building for the influx of more enslaved Africans. \"Pernambuco has a population of perhaps one hundred and twenty five thousand,\" said the U.S. Consul, Walter Stapp; \"this exceedingly high price of living has necessarily produced an equally high demand for labor in all departments of Pernambuco life. . . . I am informed by the most respectable merchants in Pernambuco that the price of living here, is as great in, almost, any other commercial port in the world.\" Like the Amazon region, the \"climate\" here was also \"fearfully destructive\" and \"of the foreigners who have located here in the last few years more than seventy five percent have perished\" [emphasis-original], to the point \"when friends part, for an hour, they shake hands with a warmth that is almost tearful, for they know not that they shall meet again in life!\" Were not Africans the only humans who could withstand this withering environment?\n\nBahia was little different, with U.S. nationals proliferating as the illicit slave trade escalated. \"'Bahia is the only town [ _sic_ ] in Brazil in which there exists an American cemetery . . . belonging to citizens of the United States,'\" Secretary of State Daniel Webster was informed. When visiting Bahia in 1841, the South Carolinian John J. Pringle observed that there were \"very few Americans in Bahia but a great deal of English society.\" Of the three major groups there\u2014\"whites, mulattoes and blacks,\" he was happy to note that the \"whites have now the supremacy\" though he seemed to be concerned with the rapid influx of Africans and what this might mean for the \"racial\" balance; \"during the short time that [we] were there,\" he wrote, \"two vessels sailed for the coast of Africa, one of which had been chased several times by the English men of war but had always succeeded in escaping.\" Simultaneously, U.S. vessels were flowing into this increasingly \"Africanized\" province, with a plurality from Richmond, followed by Baltimore and including quite a few from New York City, Boston, and Philadelphia. If history was any guide, some of these ships would be sold for the purpose of seizing people in Africa for the purpose of enslavement in Brazil. It was such simmering pressure that set the stage for more aggressive U.S. plans for the Amazon, just as it provided a backdrop for Matthew F. Maury's more elaborate arrangement for Brazilian territory. For Washington maintained a special interest in the Amazon, carefully conducting reconnaissance. Washington was also concerned about the \"scarcity of labor\" in the Amazon, which was \"felt more and more each year,\" a dearth that Negro slaves could have alleviated. This lack \"retards the capital advancement of the commercial and agricultural interests of this province,\" it was said. Brazil made \"several attempts to introduce [colonists] from Portugal which have not proved entirely successful\" as \"hard work and exposure prepared them to become an easy prey to the yellow fever which proved fatal to many.\" U.S. nationals were arriving regularly in the Amazon in the 1850s; \"the capital of our citizens [is] employed in this province [and is] wholly invested in commercial pursuits, almost without exception in the prosecution of direct trade with the United States, the exports of produce exceeding the value of our imports of merchandise, by nearly one-hundred per centum\"\u2014this despite the oft criticized \"scarcity of labor,\" which continued to be \"felt more and more each year.\"\n\nDespite\u2014or perhaps because of\u2014this influx of U.S. nationals, they were being treated increasingly harsher by the authorities. \"Five men, said to be Americans\" were murdered in 1855 near the \"Brazilian military post on the Peruvian frontier by order of the commander of that station, a [captain] in the Brazilian army\"; when \"they were murdered, they were upon their knees begging for their lives,\" yet were \"shot down, like so many sheep\" [emphasis-original]. \"Almost all white foreigners that pass through this part of Peru are called Americans,\" thought one observer, which at once suggested the suspicion of these visiting U.S. nationals, their growing numbers, and the sharper reaction to them.\n\nYet as draconian as such responses were, they did not exhaust the warp and woof of the danger involved in venturing into the rough and raw frontier that was the Amazon. In 1855, for example, there was a \"fatal epidemic . . . the Asiatic cholera. . . . the number of deaths in this city during the month of June, was 510, of which 420 were of cholera and in many places in the interior, the mortality has been much greater. . . . the disease has been in great measure confined to the colored and Indian population\"\u2014yet another factor that cried out for an infusion of more enslaved Africans.\n\nSince the Maury family tree stretched over oceans and continents, perhaps it was not surprising that the most distinguished scion of this clan would devise such grandiose schemes. The \"Fontaines and Maurys\" could trace their ancestors back to France \"in the year 1500,\" while others \"settled in Virginia in 1716 and 1717.\" In 1825, when he was about 18, Sam Houston himself recommended Maury for an appointment at the Naval Academy, who he deemed to be a \"a young man of uncommonly fine talents.\" His nephew, General Dabney Herndon Maury, who termed him \"the most lovable man I ever knew,\" recalls that his uncle's potential bloomed late as he was \"'twenty-seventh'\" at Annapolis and \"'there were only forty in the class.'\" But he always had exhibited a resolute autodidacticism having pored over \"Scott and other English classics,\" in his youth: he \"was very fond of Shakespeare and all his life he read and studied the Bible,\" on which he exerted his \"wonderful . . . power of concentration.\" After graduating, in 1829, he was aboard the USS Vincennes in Callao on the western coast of South America, \"busy making preparations for a voyage around the globe.\"\n\nThese early ventures marked the coming trajectory of his life, as ocean currents and foreign adventures\u2014especially in Brazil\u2014were the keynotes of his future. It was Maury who debunked \"another myth among merchant skippers . . . that the best route south to Rio de Janeiro was well outside Brazil's jutting Cape S\u00e3o Roque. . . . some captains nearly crossed the Atlantic all the way to Africa in order to avoid Brazil's cape. But Maury found\u2014largely from the logs of skippers who had blundered inside Cape S\u00e3o Roque\u2014that there were actually favorable currents that could be ridden out around the Cape and helpful winds close to land to add to a vessel's speed.\" As a result, \"the age of [the] American clipper ship had begun,\" cutting the time in half to Brazil, i.e., \"Baltimore to Rio in 38 days\u201417 days faster than the usual time.\" This facilitated, as well, travel to California, as \"the clippers' impressive performance were aided by the publication of Matthew Maury's charts of ocean winds and currents, which showed that the fastest course under sail was not always the shortest in miles.\"\n\nIt was in 1850 that he zeroed in on Brazil, noting that \"vessels traveling under Canvass from the Mouth of the Amazon to Europe to Rio to Africa, or around either of the Capes, must stand North, and pass not far from the West Indies. This fact . . . makes that river basin nearer to us than Brazil (if we call Rio[,] Brazil) and puts practically the mouth of that river almost as much within the Florida pass and under our control, as is the Mouth of the Mississippi.\"\n\nNow with the Amazon River basin firmly in view he asked rhetorically, \"who shall people the Great Valley of this Mighty Amazon? Shall it be peopled with an imbecile and an indolent people or by a go ahead race that has energy and enterprise equal to subdue the forest and to develop and bring forth the vast resources that lie hidden there?\" Rather surreptitiously, Maury assigned William Herndon to explore this area in the early 1850s, putatively in violation of Brazilian sovereignty, to take on a \"mission,\" whose \"object\" was to \"prepare the way for that chain of routes which is to bring this result about\"\u2014i.e., to establish the suzerainty of the \"race that has energy and enterprise\": Euro-Americans. \"Your going,\" he told the young Herndon, \"is to be the first link in that chain which is to end in the establishment of the Amazonian Republic.\"\n\nBut what about Brazil? Dismissively, Maury roared that \"it cannot no more prevent American citizens from the free, as well as from the slave states, from going there with their goods and chattels to settle and to revolutionize and republicanize and Anglo Saxonize that valley, than it can prevent the magazine from exploding after the firebrand that has been throw into it. That Valley is to [be] the safety valve for our Southern States, when they become over-populated with slaves, the African Slave Trade will be stopped, and they will send their slaves to the Amazon. Just as the Mississippi Valley has been the escape valve for the slaves of the Northern, now free, States, so will the Amazon be to that of the Mississippi.\" Britain, he thought, was beginning to feel too dependent on the U.S. South for cotton and might want to snatch the Amazon for that purpose\u2014so Maury's initiative was preemptive. \"The Valley,\" he declared, \"in a few years will become to be regarded for all commercial purposes as a sort of an American Colony.\"\n\nThis was covert action of the first rank. \" _In the first place,_ \" he insisted, \" _the object of your journey should not be talked of_ \" [emphasis-original]. Maury provided a lengthy list of things Herndon should catalogue, including minerals and indigenous flora and fauna. \"What are the able bodied sold at there? Is there any importation from Africa? To what extent and how do the untried slaves just from Africa compare in price with those who have been raised and trained in the country.\" In sum, \"note down and take note of everything that you see, hear, feel or think while on the way down.\" It was not long before the U.S. Consul in the Amazon \"received from Mr. George Manning (agent for Lt. Maury) a letter of enquiry respecting the river Amazon and the Province of Para.\"\n\nThe designated trailblazer, William Lewis Herndon, was peripatetic, having spent 1832 in Lisbon\u2014a frequent port of call for those with dreams of expanding the bounds of bondage\u2014and in 1837 was \"anchored in Rio,\" then \"cruising between Rio, Bahia and River Plata.\" He was a \"slight man who wore thin gold spectacles\"; he had a \"red beard running the edge of his jaw from temple to temple.\" He had \"been at sea since he was fifteen\" and had soldiered in the \"Mexican War and the Second Seminole War.\" Like Maury, Herndon too had febrile dreams about Brazil; \"the Valley of Amazon and the Valley of Mississippi are commercial complements of each other\u2014one supplying what the other lacks in the great commercial round. They are sisters which should not be separated\"\u2014something that Brazilian sovereignty was preventing. With this thought firmly in mind, he embarked on this perilous expedition to the \"Deepest South\" in 1851, noting as he crossed onto Brazilian soil that \"the Commandant . . . never left me a moment to myself until he saw me safely in bed on board my boat. I did not know, at first, whether this was polite attention or a watch upon me, but I think it was the latter.\" Quite quickly this unease abated as he bumped into his compatriots\u2014\"everywhere on the river,\" he recounted, \"I heard sounded the praises of my countrym[e]n.\" A bit optimistically he opined, \"I presume that the Brazilian government would impose no obstacles to the settlement of this country by any of the citizens of the United States who would choose to go there and carry their slaves; and I know that the thinking people on the Amazon would be glad to see them.\" Going further, he added, \"I am under the impression that, were Brazil to throw off a causeless jealousy, and a puerile fear of our people, and invite settlers to the Valley of the Amazon, there might be found, among our Southern planters, men, who looking with apprehension (if not for themselves, at least for their children) to the state of affairs as regards slavery at home, would, under sufficient guarantees, remove their slaves to that country, cultivate its lands, draw out its resources, and prodigiously augment the power and wealth of Brazil.\" Like Maury, Herndon was passionately optimistic about this region's prospects. \"I have no hesitation in saying,\" he beamed, \"that I believe in fifty years Rio [de] Janeiro, without losing a tittle of her wealth and greatness, will be but a village to Para and Para will be what New Orleans would long ago have been but for the activity of New York and her own fatal climate, the greatest city of the New World; Santarem will be St. Louis and . . . Cincinnati.\"\n\nAlso, like Maury, Herndon had a bold oceanographic vision for this region of Brazil, arguing that \"ships sailing from the mouth of the Amazon, for whatever port of the world, are forced to our very doors by the southeast and northeast trade winds; that New York is the half-way house between Para and Europe.\" And this Herndon-Maury vision was not unique to them, for it was then that the young Mark Twain traveled down the Mississippi, thinking \"he would book passage on the next ship out of New Orleans bound for Para, Brazil. Once there, he would work his way up the Amazon into its tributaries.\" For his part, Herndon \"musingly dropped a bit of green moss, plucked\" from this U.S. river and \"as it floated along I followed it, in imagination, down through the luxurious climes, the beautiful skies and enchanting scenery of the tropics, to the mouth of the great river; thence across the Caribbean Sea, through the Yucatan pass, into the Gulf of Mexico; thence along the Gulfstream, and so out upon the ocean, off the shores of the 'Land of Flowers.'\" Herndon's enchanting analysis captured the imagination of a nation then imbued with the messianic revelation of \"Manifest Destiny.\" Herndon turned their attention southward toward the largest prize of all, a prize that made seizing Cuba seem trivial by comparison. Herndon's report sold 10,000 copies in its first run; \"three months later . . . another twenty thousand\" were sold and \"the book became an international best-seller.\"\n\nWritten in April 1850, Herndon\u2014who happened to be Maury's brother-in-law\u2014spoke dramatically of the \"'universal Yankee Nation'\" that was destined to blanket the hemisphere. The \"purpose of Herndon's mission was to 'prepare the way for that chain of events . . . which is to end in the establishment of the Amazonian Republic.'\" Once Brazil permitted U.S. nationals to \"navigate the river, American settlers from the free and slave states would follow inevitably. . . . the Amazon would serve both as a 'safety valve' for excess southern slaves as well as a rich source of cotton for England.\" Repetitively, Herndon's patron emphasized that the Valley of the Amazon was \"'but a commercial appendage of the Mississippi,' closely connected to it by prevailing currents and winds. . . . according to Maury, a tree cut at the headwaters of the Missouri River and another cut at the headwaters of the Amazon would meet in the 'Straits of Florida' if each was allowed to float freely. The Amazon and Mississippi River basins, then, comprised . . . part of a vast undeveloped commercial empire which could be dominated by southern ports, such as New Orleans and Norfolk. . . . in a climate he believed . . . congenial to cotton, rice, tobacco and sugar cultivation, Maury expected southerners to settle, transplant their institutions, move their slaves, and become a virtual colony of the Mississippi Valley.\"\n\nBut what if Brazil was unwilling to accede to the aggressive overtures of its more populous neighbor? Britain was not a passive witness either as this scheme was unfolding, and their man in Washington heard that Maury's response was \"'we mean to have a fight with her,'\" meaning a Brazil unwilling to capitulate. As John Crampton saw it, \"there will be one feature in regard to the Amazon which will ensure the popularity of any move in that direction in a great part of the Union\u2014I mean the South\u2014there will be no objection to the Southerners proceeding to that part of the world 'with their property' (that is, their Negroes), as there was in regard to California from which that 'property' was excluded by Congress altho' the country was conquered, as they (the Southerners) said with their blood and treasure as much as with that of the North. They are still indignant at this prohibition\"\u2014which could mean bowing to Maury's Brazilian scheme or, alternatively, heightening regional tensions in a giant step toward Civil War: in any case, Brazil was at issue.\n\nReflecting this tension over Brazil were the words of the radical Southern extremist, Edmund Ruffin. He denounced the \"hypocricy [ _sic_ ] of the pretended horrors of slavery,\" which was supposedly \"actuating Northern abolitionists.\" Why focus on the \"Southern states,\" he wondered querulously and not \"Brazil,\" where slavery was indeed \"inhuman & horrible.\" This led him to dangerous ground: \"if our secession & independence were once accomplished,\" he thought, \"& Northern politicians could no longer command votes or power by denouncing slavery, we should be nearly as safe from their anti-slavery action as are Brazil & Cuba now.\"\n\nJust as Dixie nationalists were coming to intertwine their fate with that of Brazil and Cuba, this prospect was also dawning on others. As the Maury-Herndon project was gaining traction, Congressman David Wilmot observed that \"slavery looks forward with exulting confidence\" to the \"revival of the foreign slave trade, and to an alliance offensive and defensive with Brazil for the protection and aggrandizement of slavery and to enable it to defy the public opinion and power of the world.\" The recently founded newspaper, the **New York Times,** took careful note of the words of a counterpart journal in South Carolina which called on its readers to follow the \"'true policy,'\" i.e., \"'to look to Brazil as the next great slave power. . . . _instead of courting England, we should look to Brazil_ [emphasis-original]. . . . The time will come when a treaty of commerce and alliance with Brazil will give us the control over the Gulf of Mexico and its border countries, together with the islands, and the consequence of this will place African Slavery beyond the reach of fanaticism, at home or abroad. These two great Slave Powers now hold more undeveloped territory than any other two governments, and they ought to guard and strengthen their mutual interests by acting together in strict harmony and concert.\"\n\nThe Brazilian Foreign Ministry paid close attention to these plots\u2014for which it had not been consulted\u2014on its territory. It obtained and translated a copy of Maury's message to William Graham, U.S. Secretary of the Navy, and could not have been pleased. The Amazon, rhapsodized Maury, was in a \"country that sends its waters from South America into the Caribbean Sea\" and was the \"grandest and most magnificent water-shed in the world. . . . the Mississippi and its tributaries have been called 'Inland Seas.' The Amazon is an 'Inland Ocean.' . . . the Gulf Stream as it gathers strength to force itself through . . . Florida . . . sweeps by the mouth of the Amazon as it does by the Delta of the Mississippi. . . . from a commercial point of view, the whole of South America is but a peninsula pendent from the North and as dependent upon North America as peninsulas usually are upon the main. . . . were the navigation of the Amazon open to our citizens, much of Equador [ _sic_ ], most of Peru and nearly all of Bolivia might be supplied with articles of American growth and manufacture through it instead of around Cape Horn, and then on the backs of donkeys across the Cordilleras and the Puna, up the Andes and down again. . . . the silver mines of Peru and Bolivia would probably soon receive a new impulse. . . . their produce would flow down the Amazon along the great equatorial and Gulf Stream currents to our very doors and so assist to balance the stream of gold which we are to expect and almost to fear from California.\" The Amazon region, thought Maury, was a prize waiting to be developed and this idea\u2014repeatedly\u2014was linked to the companion notion of U.S. bondage. \"Is the time yet to come when the United States are [too] overpeopled with the black race? And if so, when shall an outlet be found for them? In the Valley of the Amazon.\"\n\nThe Brazilian press also got wind of Maury's plans. It was \"feared,\" said one journalist from Rio de Janeiro, \"that the U. States will hasten to arrange . . . for the navigation of some of the tributaries of the Amazon and thus judge themselves authorized to enter the Amazon from within, as its journals of New York & New Orleans already propose. We have been careless on this matter and must now hurry about it,\" it was said with anxiety. \"This nation of pirates,\" it was said of the U.S., \"like those of their race wish to dispossess all the people of America who are not Anglo-Saxons.\" This article made it to the hands of Maury's comrade, William Graham, who filed it away for future reference.\n\nGraham, whose role as Secretary of the Navy placed him in a strategic position, saw Maury's Amazon plan as part of a larger scheme for South America. He was told in 1852 that \"the defeat and expulsion of Rosas from Buenos Ayres will open to the trade of the world the fine countries bordering on the Uruguay and Paraguay Rivers. Our government ought to be among the first to take advantage of that opening.\" For the longest time, the U.S. had paid insufficient attention to the nation that became Argentina but as \"the news of the assembling of a Congress of representatives from the principal Latin American states at Lima, Peru early in 1843, where Mexican\u2013United States relations were to be considered,\" Washington became \"more concerned about [its] prestige in South America.\" Certainly, the war of aggression against Mexico in 1846 could hardly be ignored by Latin America. Henry Wise had once told John C. Calhoun that \"'the U. States and Brazil are the two elder sisters of North and South America and are in a moral sense responsible for the whole family of states in the New World.'\" But even Brazil, admitted to parity with the U.S. in Wise's formulation, was beginning to think that, instead, a fate akin to Mexico was the destiny slotted for it by Washington.\n\nMaury's relationship to Graham showed that his designs on the Amazon were not apparitions, for this North Carolinian was a \"unanimous\" choice in 1852 as \"candidate for the Office of Vice President,\" while Millard Fillmore found their \"official intercourse\" to have \"been so intimate and so entirely harmonious.\" The potent politician from New York told Graham that he had a \"vacant room\" at his house \"at your services\" and almost demanded that he \"become our guest during the time you remain in the city.\"\n\nMaury would need these powerful contacts that reached into the inner sanctums of the White House if his ambitious proposals were to become reality. Seeking to outflank a Brazil that was hesitant to open its territory to a nation that some there viewed as piratical, Maury proposed to Graham that the U.S. \"negotiate a treaty, guaranteeing to Peru\" certain \"islands\" near \"Amazonia,\" \"on condition that she would open one or more of the river towns in her Amazonian provinces to American commerce by making them ports of entry; or whether we might not go further, and in consideration of the guaranty, ask of Peru this right of navigation to be exclusive to the American flag, together with that of the coterminous nations only, as Brazil, Bolivia, etc. Thus, by getting such a right from Bolivia and the other states whose territories are drained by that river and its navigable tributaries, we should exclude France and England with their mischievous abolitionists from those waters and from a participation with us.\" Like many aggressive men in Washington before and since, he saw the \"State Department\" as \"inefficient\"\u2014\"nobody there seems to understand South American affairs,\" he groused, while he was dreamy about the prospects, suggesting that Herndon's report would \"show the country [Brazil] to be all you ever imagined of it.\"\n\nAfter dispatching Herndon southward, the prolific Maury then picked up his pen and with a pseudonym of South American vintage\u2014\"Inca\"\u2014in the canonical publication of the Slave South, **De Bow's Review,** began to propagandize further on behalf of his ambitious Amazon plan. \"Our commercial transactions with Brazil and the valley of the Rio de la Plata,\" he insisted, \"are already worth more than they were any of the countries of Europe, except Great Britain and France\"\u2014and that did not include the illicit slave trade. It was the South that should spearhead this Brazilian initiative, he said, already intimating that he saw this region as a separate nation: \"if the South do not make haste soon to take it up and embark in it, we may rest assured the North will not be slow\" for \"that Valley is a slave country\" and should remain that way. \"Wherever they are found, the African delights to dwell; and he alone is equal to the task which man has to accomplish with the axe in the valley of the Amazon\" for \"the settlement of the valley of the Amazon, its relation to this country, its bearings upon our future commerce and withal so potential, that the destiny of the United States seems to be closely connected with, wrapped up in, and concealed by this question.\" The Amazon was the future: \"there will soon be no more Mississippi lands to clear, no more cotton fields to subdue, and unless some means be devised of getting rid of the Negro increase, the time must come\u2014and sooner or later it will come\u2014when there will be an excess in these states of black people.\"\n\nThere was a precedent for this as the \"New England states and the Middle states did not emancipate their slaves; they banished them,\" but the \"South could not, if she would, banish her slaves and tell the world that it is emancipation; for she has no place of banishment to send them to.\" And they could not be expropriated for \"did ever any people incur such a tax? History affords no example of any. . . . unless some means of relief be devised, some channel afforded by which the South can, when the time comes, get rid of the excess of her slave population, that she will be ultimately found, with regard to this institution, in the predicament of [those] with the wolf by the ears\u2014too dangerous to hold on any longer, and equally dangerous to let it go.\" For \"sooner or later, come it will, and come it must\u2014when the two races will join in the death struggle for the mastery. The valley of the Amazon is the way; in this view, it is the safety-valve of the Union. It is slave territory and a wilderness.\" The idea was \"the entire suppression of the African slave trade with Brazil\"\u2014following Wise\u2014\"by a substitution of a slave emigration from the United States.\"\n\n\"We are nearer to the Amazon, or rather to the mouth of it than any other nation,\" said Maury. \"China wants to trade with us, but Japan stands by the way-side and shuts herself up and out of the world. She is not in the fellowship of nations, and we send a fleet there to remind her that she cannot be of the world and live out of it at one and the same time\"\u2014Brazil should get the same treatment, he thought. For \"the five Spanish-American republics want to trade up and down the Amazon; but Brazil, worse than Japan on the wayside, stands right in the _doorway_ and says, 'Nay, I will neither use the Amazon myself nor permit others to use it'\" [emphasis-original]. This was little more than a \"state of war,\" this was \"their policy.\" Brazil and \"her rulers have had\" the Amazon \"for three hundred years, and the first practical step towards subduing it and developing its resources, has yet to be taken.\" This was \"the question of the day. The problem of the age is that of the free navigation of the Amazon and the settlement of the Atlantic slopes of South America.\" \"The time will come\" he predicted, \"when the free navigation of the Amazon will be considered by the people of this country as second in importance, by reason of its conservative effects, to the acquisition of Louisiana\"\u2014\"if it be _second_ at all\" [emphasis-original]. This explosive message was taken directly to the halls of Congress.\n\nMaury also addressed directly the commanding North Carolinian, William Graham. \"When the states of the Union were all on the waters of the Atlantic,\" he said in October 1850, \"we had a seafront of only 2000 miles. But now, our ocean front is more than double that.\" The expansion into California and the fact that getting there from the East often led to Cape Horn, inevitably made the U.S. vision more capacious. \"Then, the shortest way from state to state was within our own borders and by inland channels of communication; now, [it] is through foreign countries, and by a double sea voyage.\" This meant the \"Navy must be challenged or we shall fail properly to provide for the common defense of the Pacific coasts.\" But on the west coast of the U.S. there were \"no shipyards, public or private, no timber sheds stored with timber, no railroads to fetch it from the forest; & no mechanics, except at exorbitant rates to build them.\" Consequently, a \"considerable increase of the Navy is called for on account of our acquisitions & the settlement of our people on the Pacific Coast.\" Like slavers who looked to whalers, Maury did the same\u2014but to the navy, looking to \"10,000 American seamen employed in the whaling business\" to join this U.S. force, along with \"the merchant sailors.\"\n\nHe also spread this message to Brazil. \"Now for the last two years I have been urging upon the government to make a treaty with Brazil,\" he said in 1851, \"and to remind her in that treaty that we are her best customers for coffee; that nearly all she produces is consumed in the United States, where it is admitted duty free, and of course the consumption is largely increased thereby.\" There was a condition, however. \"I have urged that we should say to Brazil in that treaty, 'Stop the African slave trade, or we will put a duty on that coffee, and thus lessen the demand for the fruits of slave labor.'\" This did not mean stop slavery, however. For \"the people of Amazonia will have slaves\u2014they are very near to the coast of Africa, and if they cannot get them in one they will in another. The alternative is, shall Amazonia be supplied with this class from the United States or from Africa? In the former case, it will be a transfer of the place of servitude, but the making of no new slaves. In the latter, it will be making slaves of free men\" and \"in the former it would be relieving our own country of the slaves.\" As pressure mounted in the Slave South, Maury saw his plan as the most reasonable alternative. \"I cannot be blind to what I see going on here. It is coming to be a matter of faith among leading southern men that the time is rapidly approaching when, in order to prevent this war of the races and its horrors,\" the white South \"in self-defence\" would \"be compelled to conquer parts of Mexico and Central America and make slave territory of what is now free.\" Moreover, as Maury saw it, his country had to strike first in the Amazon as a pre-emption of rivals in London and Paris. The U.S. had to \"exclude France and England, with their mischievous abolitionists, from those waters,\" i.e., the Amazon River.\n\nBrazil was not standing aside idly as other nations were contemplating its territorial integrity, however. Fearing filibustering, Brazil cut a deal with Peru restricting navigation of ships in this region and in 1867 the Amazon was finally opened to \"world commerce.\" Brazil's legation in the U.S. monitored carefully the North American conversation about the prospect of seizing their territory.\n\nMaury's was not a lone voice in the wilderness calling for action in the Amazon and signaling the importance of Brazil, though these voices were not necessarily in accord with every jot of his proposals. The **Southern Standard** of Charleston felt that \"instead of courting England, we should look to Brazil and the West Indies. These two great slave powers now hold more undeveloped territory than any other two governments\"; thus, if the Slave South and Brazil chose to \"act together by treaty we cannot only preserve domestic servitude . . . we can defy the power of the world.\" The Slave South had \"been too long governed by psalm-singing schoolmasters from the North\" and the time had long since come for a change. A sort of slave imperialism was proposed, as it was said, \"the time will come that all islands and regions suited to African Slavery, between us and Brazil, will fall under the control of those two slave powers.\" With audacity, it was proposed \"to take Cuba. To conquer St. Domingo and reduce its inhabitants to slavery. To unite with Brazil . . . to enter into an alliance with Brazil.\" Said a nameless abolitionist voice, \"it is seldom [one] will find more of what is being called 'letting the cat out of the bag' . . . the [Kansas]-Nebraska bill is but the first,\" this was the \"easy step in this comprehensive plan of Africanizing the whole of the American hemisphere.\" Said another, the Slave South was looking to an \"alliance, offensive and defensive with Brazil,\" while another declared, \"it was predicted twenty years ago, that if [the Slave South] got Texas, it would not stop until it reached Brazil.\"\n\nNaturally, this idea of dispatching U.S. Negroes to the \"Deepest South\" did not evade the attention of the intended victims. Writing from exile in Canada, one editorialist ridiculed the \"stupendous scheme of the Slave Power,\" this attempt to \"secure an outlet for their surplus slave population, now staring them in the face like doom. If they could but get a foothold in that rich tropical [Amazon] valley, establish slavery there by arrangement with Brazil, create a commerce between it and the Southern States, direct and institute lines of steamship, slaves could be transported with convenience . . . a great slaveholding empire would arise, fortifying the system at home and removing for centuries the only danger which threatened it.\" The **Provincial Freeman** reacted sharply to Maury's plan to \"memorialize Congress\" to \"send one or two small naval steamers up the Amazon River for the purpose of exploring its tributaries\" and \"that the government of Brazil be requested to permit these vessels to make explorations and surveys of the shores of the Amazon belonging to that nation.\" They sensed the implications of the idea of converting \"'the mouth of the Amazon and the mouth of Mississippi into one'\"\u2014this would be a boon for the consolidation of hemispheric slavery. They did not miss the import of the point that \"'ships sailing from the mouth of the Amazon for whatever port of the world, are forced to float to our very doors by the S.E. trade winds; that New York is the half-way house between Para and Europe.'\" They recognized that U.S. Negroes would be on the move southward when \"'Southern planters, men, who looking with apprehension . . . to the state of affairs'\" of \"'slavery at home, would under sufficient guarantees, remove their slaves'\" to Brazil.\n\nFrederick Douglass also was alarmed by these Amazon plans. \"We noticed with no small interest,\" he said, \"the published accounts of the large expeditions which the last season sailed out of New York, to explore this father of Rivers and its borders,\" which were initiated by the \"capitalists of our metropolis,\" along with \"other large expeditions which lately sailed from San Francisco to Peru and Equador [ _sic_ ].\" It was stated \"publicly\" that \"unsuccessful efforts have been made to engage Brazil in a treaty with the United States for the protection and propagation of slavery on the continent.\" As Douglass saw it, there was more to fear from \"filibustering\" in Brazil, more so than Cuba, the U.S.'s immediate neighbor.\n\nOn the other hand, because of the rather benign view of Brazil taken by a number of U.S. Negroes, there were other voices that echoed Maury's sentiments about sending this group southward\u2014not for slavery but for freedom. \"I am neither a Northern agitating Abolitionist nor an Ebony-line Colonizationist . . . I am . . . a let-alone-ist,\" said a man identified as \"Chr. Reemlin,\" but compared to the U.S., he saw Brazil as the \"'promised land.'\" Looking ahead he foresaw a time \"a hundred years\" hence \"after the abolition of the slave trade\" when there \"will be a hundred millions of white people within the United States. How proportionally small will then the black population be compared to the white!\" What to do? Well, there was \"in America a country, a climate and a soil, on which the Negro may yet be free and great,\" and this was \"South America, on the Amazon River, the Orinoco\" which was \"but half the distance from Africa that Europe is the United States. . . . South America may become to the Negro what North America is to the European\u2014a freer field for his higher development.\" Brazil, he thought, \"may yet accept similar offers to those made by the Negro King of Dahomey in 1796 to Portugal, which were, to bring about a Negro emigration on a large scale, and with it to colonize and overrun the greater part of Eastern South America.\" Since Brazil had banned the slave trade, \"it will soon feel the effects of the stoppage of its annual supply of population and then it will be in the proper humor to try the new experiment.\"\n\nDespite the sunny optimism, these sentiments may have been misplaced, because Brazilian elites for good reason and bad were not necessarily open to an influx into their nation of U.S. Negroes. Certainly, Matthew Maury had a more ramified network of contacts in the Luso-phone world than virtually any African-American. He was in particular close touch with William Figaniere, Portugal's long-time representative in the U.S., who was suspected of involvement in facilitating the slave trade. \"I regret that I was not in town when you did me the favor to call at the [Naval] Observatory,\" Maury told him in the fall of 1856, as he added thanks for the \"documents and parcels which you were kind enough to leave.\" Perhaps prompted by Maury, Figaniere contacted the U.S. Navy telling him that the \"Navy Department at Lisbon is desirous of obtaining a copy of the . . . work on 'Boat Armament.'\" J. A. Dahlgren instructed this Portuguese national that \"the late operations of our Naval force against the Chinese forts near Canton, have afforded another evidence of the power of the Howitzer against masses of men who lack the discipline and nerve of the troops of civilized nations. And although I trust that your settlement at Macao may not be molested, yet a due supply of Field Howitzers supported by rifled muskets would afford the best security against any attempt on the part of the Chinese.\" Helpfully, Maury forwarded for Lisbon, a \"parcel containing six sets of charts of the Japan expedition (Commander Perry) . . . to transmit the same for the use of the Portuguese Marine.\" During this time this Portuguese representative\u2014quite strikingly\u2014was making repeated requests for detailed maps of the U.S. and was also \"asking for the best published information\" held by the U.S. Patent Office \"in respect to the culture and manipulation of the cotton.\" As the Civil War approached, Maury's contact with Lisbon increased sharply and, in turn, Portugal was foisting various awards upon him, not least because over the years this\u2014then\u2014U.S. national supplied this pioneering nation of navigation with considerable technical information about the seas.\n\nAppropriately given his knowledge of the oceans, Maury had a truly global network, which allowed him to see more clearly than most the importance of the Amazon for his nation's ambitions. Moreover, such contacts would prove to be useful when he joined with others in the Slave South to secede from the U.S.; for even before secession, Maximilian who seized Mexico when Washington was embroiled in Civil War, told Maury \"with affection of a friend,\" that he was \"deeply moved at your generous and flattering proposal to enter my service if I am ever called to ascend the Mexican throne. . . . I hope the day will come when you and I will play a prominent role together.\" Though skeptical of French abolitionists, Maury was embraced by Paris, even before this nation moved to seize Mexico.\n\nThis paid off for France when during the height of the Civil War, Maury announced that \"should the enemies of my country,\" speaking of the Confederate States of America, \"attempt to assert their Monroe Doctrine when you ascend your throne, then it may become the policy of Mexico, as it is already the interest of the Confederacy to see California withdrawn from her present political associations. Though never a resident of that state,\" Maury conceded, \"I am not altogether unknown to the people there,\" not least since so many from the Slave South had migrated there. \"I might be of some service in assisting its dismemberment,\" he added helpfully. \"A few good ironclads quietly sent around Cape Horn at an early day would find themselves complete masters of the coast; for the Federals have nothing in the Pacific that could cope with them.\" A double-dealer of rare skill, Maury was also willing to \"tender\" his \"resignation . . . in the Confederate Navy . . . whenever you may require my services\" and swear loyalty to Mexico.\n\nThere was also sentiment among Maury's comrades to try to restore slavery in Mexico, which along with Cuba and Brazil, could become a formidable bondage bloc that could ultimately challenge Washington profoundly. But a few weeks after the Civil War ended, an informant in Richmond while conceding that \"we are, it is true, in a very unhappy condition; & the prospect before is not bright,\" was \"satisfied\" that \"we shall fare better here than in a Catholic, Spanish country.\" Worse, it was \"not possible to get the Negroes to go away from here with their former owners. They are all turned loose & are as wild as zebras\" [emphasis-original]. Thus, Maury was reduced to endorsing a plan to go to \"China for labourers,\" which\u2014as it turned out\u2014became something of a substitute for enslaved Africans in the wake of the Civil War. Later after reconciling with Washington, he perked up at the idea of \"San Domingo annexation. . . . if it be annexed,\" he told a friend, \"there may be a field open there, for the display of your talents. . . . the best of mahogany comes thence and in the olden times the coffee and sugar planters there did splendidly and since emancipation everything has gone to ruin.\"\n\nMaury, who had a more spacious vision than his comrades from the Slave South\u2014a vision that incorporated Brazil\u2014was a diehard Confederate, \"he was one of the last Southerners to despair of the ultimate issue of the Rebellion, which he hoped to see protracted over a dozen or more years.\" Again, though Maury was emblematic, he was not unique. An \"organization familiarly known as the 'Knights of the Golden Circle' was bound under an ironclad oath to uphold the interest of the Southern Confederacy at any cost\" and was said to have \"numbered 100,000 men.\" Another Virginian, Edward Bryan, had proclaimed that \"he would like to see slavery cover the entire area from Norfolk to Rio de Janeiro.\" And at that juncture, the Slave South would be following Maury's scheme and exporting Negroes to the Amazon\u2014and feasting on the profits.\n\nMaury's bold schemes were indicative of an era when citizenship was blurred and territories were being seized promiscuously. Most of all, it was a period when huge profits were to be made from buying and selling Africans. However, the official ban of the African Slave Trade, a ban which many Virginians supported, did create an \"artificial\" blockage in the market. But what if this were to change?\n\n## **7  \nMaking the Slave Trade Legal?**\n\n\"'It is truly lamentable,'\" said Abraham Lincoln just before his election as President, \"'that Great Britain and the United States should be obliged to spend such a vast amount of blood and treasure for the suppression of the African slave trade.'\" His words reflected a deepening reality: the trade to Brazil had slowed down considerably, not least because of external pressure from London; but, perhaps as a result of this pressure in or about Rio de Janeiro, as Lincoln's victorious election approached, \"just one British cruiser went on a slave trade patrol off the coast of Cuba in 1861.\"\n\nThis chapter concerns the spectacular rise in the illicit African Slave Trade in the late 1850s and how the apparent victory of those who profited from this commerce ironically sounded the tocsin for the institution of slavery, as emboldened fire-eaters from Dixie overplayed their hand and pushed the nation toward Civil War.\n\nJust as cracking down on the sale of illegal drugs in one neighborhood can serve to increase this traffic in adjacent areas, the pressure in the \"Deepest South\" was causing the illegal trade to grow in areas north of Brazil. Moreover, it seemed that \"American traders were anxious to ship all the slaves they could before Lincoln's known views could take effect.\"\n\nAt this moment, New York City \"was gaining the dubious honor of being 'the greatest slave-trading mart in the world'\"; by 1857, this metropolis, perhaps more so than New Orleans, the logical contender for this title, was \"'the commercial center of the slave trade.' During the months from January 1859 to August 1860, it was conservatively estimated, close to one hundred vessels left the city for the slave trade.\" The trade in Africans had become so commonplace that the press in Gotham began to speak of various ethnic groups from this continent in the same way they might have discussed the merits of a Chablis versus a Merlot. A formidable infrastructure for the slave trade had developed in this city that included ship fitters, suppliers, attorneys, recruiters of crews, and bribed marshals and custom agents. One longtime federal judge in New York, Samuel Rossiter Betts, later lauded as the father of U.S. maritime law, set a standard of proof so high that slave trade convictions were rare and severe punishment even rarer.\n\nThis infrastructure also meant that it was a simpler matter to bring slaves to the U.S. itself. This brought the ugliness of the African Slave Trade that much closer to U.S. shores, thereby exacerbating tensions\u2014and not just between North and South but, as well, between the Upper South of Wise's Virginia, which remained hostile to the trade, and the Lower South. In addition, the prices of enslaved Africans were cheaper in Brazil than in the U.S., which was a further incentive to take the risk of bringing them to the Slave South, where prices were higher.\n\nIn fact, as the pivotal decade of the 1850s was drawing to a close, the price of enslaved Africans was rising, giving more incentive to smugglers to tempt fate. One domestic trader's books revealed that prices rose in 1855\u2014generally\u2014from $450 to $810 and a few years later by considerably more. Yet, as one reporter noted during this same period, \"slaves of ten to twelve years of age up to an adult can be bought on the Congo River at $25 or $30 per head and landed in New Orleans or Texas for $30 more, making the cost $60; but call it $100.\" The profits were too handsome to ignore easily.\n\nThus, in the Deep South the African Slave Trade \"cause was increasingly put forward as part and parcel of the southern nationalist agenda.\" Some \"Texas county conventions of the Democratic Party passed resolutions in favor of the slave trade, and Hardin R. Rummels, a secessionist and advocate of the African slave trade, defeated Sam Houston in the gubernatorial elections.\" In the spring of 1857, the incendiary Southern nationalist, Edmund Ruffin, argued that reopening the slave trade was \"obviously impossible so long as the present union with the northern states lasts\"\u2014which pointed to secession. \"All the southern states suffer greatly from the scarcity & high price of labor,\" he complained, yet they could \"obtain no supply from abroad.\" Ruffin, who kept a close eye on such matters, also noticed when \"a first cousin of President James K. Polk, [Leonidas] Spratt\" became an \"ardent champion of the slave trade, having presented to the Montgomery Commercial Convention of 1858 a series of resolutions calling for a reopening of the African Slave Trade.\"\n\nJ. D. B. De Bow of New Orleans was elected President of the \"African Labor Supply Association,\" organized at Vicksburg months after Spratt's initiative, with a stated aim of reopening the trade. \"'We must have Africans,'\" De Bow insisted with passion. In January 1859, influential South Carolina Congressman, William Porcher Miles, \"added his voice to those of James De Bow and the fire-eating Southerner, William L. Yancey, in calling for a repeal of federal laws that prohibited the African slave trade.\"\n\nThere was something in the air. The filibuster, William Walker\u2014a Southerner who happened to be in Europe during the failed revolutions of 1848\u2014had his eyes on hemispheric expansion \"intended not only to reestablish slavery, but to revive the African slave trade. . . . slaves would not be carried to Central America from the southern states, because the demand for Negroes in the Lower South was already greater than the supply.\" Walker, who ruled briefly in Nicaragua, was said by a comrade to have been an \"advocate\" of this idea \"to an extreme degree, and believed in it with the same zeal and fervor that a Christian believes in the truth of the Christian religion.\" Sober voices were thinking\u2014and debating\u2014the previously unthinkable. The attorney, Robert Harper, was worried about the presence in his country of more \"millions of wild Africans,\" yet he conceded that reopening the trade now had a \"degree of importance which no longer admits of its being treated with silence or contempt.\" Yes, it would heavily profit the Northeast due to their \"kidnapping propensities\" but Brazil\u2014a \"feeble state\"\u2014showed that imports could occur despite the \"discouragements and harassments of a British squadron.\"\n\nHarper had a point. The 1850s crackdown by London on the illegal trade to Brazil impelled those in the U.S. who benefited from this commerce to look elsewhere for profit, which was exacerbating tension in the hemisphere and elsewhere. One journal linked the fate of the U.S. with Russia and Turkey, as a result. Spain, a slave trading scofflaw of U.S. dimensions, began to worry that the enthusiasm for bondage in Cuba's northern neighbor was becoming so intense that Madrid would have to worry about further filibustering escapades in its Caribbean territories. Their Consul in Galveston\u2014long a hotbed of slave smuggling\u2014worried that this town was one of the \"most active centers of permanent conspiracy against Cuba.\"\n\nThe apotheosis of the illegal slave trade to Brazil came in the 1850s when a severe crackdown there allied with rising prices in the U.S. to create enormous pressure to reopen the African Slave Trade and, barring that, facilitating a torrent of smuggled slaves. While slavery was the prime cause of the Civil War, a closely allied factor was tension arising from the slave trade.\n\nRather defensively, one pro-slavery ideologue in the U.S. after noting that a \"very extensive commerce exists at this time and has long existed between our Northern ports and the empire of Brazil, and the most amicable relations are maintained, notwithstanding the prevalence of slavery in the latter,\" yet, he wondered waspishly, \"we hear of no abductions of slaves from [Brazil]\" by the \"pious philanthropists of the North.\" This was just more hypocrisy, it was said. \"The Amazon\" was \"owned by both Brazil and Peru\" and \"the harmony between the governments of those countries is not disturbed by this fact\"\u2014so why couldn't an independent Slave South share the Ohio and Mississippi Rivers with the U.S.? Again, double-standards and rank hypocrisy barred such realism, it was thought.\n\nAs time passed, the Virginians\u2014Wise and Maury\u2014were losing ground. This duo were increasingly being viewed as being parochial and selfish, narrowly defending the interests of their slave-exporting state. The illicit slave trade to Brazil had been hampered but the traders themselves had not been run out of business, and the idea of using their infrastructure to bring more enslaved Africans to North America gained traction. In turn, those of the Wise-Maury persuasion echoed the sentiments of a \"Georgian secessionist\" in opposing the African Slave Trade who \"asked the Virginia [secession] convention, 'Why, we would soon be drowned in a black pool; we would be literally overwhelmed with a black pool; we would be literally overwhelmed with a black population.'\" In 1858, Wise himself filed away an article that reflected the growing temper of the times: \"It is a great loss to the United States and to the commerce of the world,\" it was said, \"to have vast tracts of cotton and sugar lands in the Southwest remain wild and uncultivated for the want of African labor. Without an increase of African labor in the New World its white population, with that of Europe, must have its independence increased on the British possessions in India, and at greatly enhanced prices, which, it is believed, has been the long cherished desire of the East India Company.\" At this moment, \"about three out of every five vessels employed in the slave trade\" were \"fitted out in the United States and the remainder in Cuba. About two-thirds of those sent from the United States are fitted out in the port of New York.\" This trade \"was carried on almost exclusively on the Congo River, or from neighboring points,\" particularly northern Angola\u2014then, as now, a region pockmarked by unrest and poor infrastructure.\n\nThe New York writer, Henry J. Raymond, was incensed with this developing momentum toward reopening the African Slave Trade and lashed out bitterly at William Yancey, a principal proponent. He was, said Raymond, seeking to \"secure the repeal of the laws of Congress\" against the trade \"in order to extend slavery into the Territories. . . . To use your words, 'We of Alabama want slaves to be cheap\u2014we want to buy them, not to sell them. It is a Virginia idea'\"\u2014a Maury and Wise idea\u2014\"'that slaves ought to be high. Virginia wants $1500 each for her Negroes: we want to get them cheaper.' 'Cheap Negroes' is the grand consummation at which you aim.\" But this was not only designed for exploiting the \"territories\"; Yancey and his cohorts had coopted Maury's idea of expanding further into the hemisphere. He was, said Raymond, so determined that he would \"destroy the Union\" to do so. \"Why? Because it does not permit the continuance of the African Slave Trade.\"\n\nThis claim was continuously being repeated in the North of the U.S.; in a sense, they were arguing that more than slavery, it was the slave trade that was the locomotive impelling Civil War. Henry Wilson of Massachusetts took to the floor of the U.S. Senate in May 1860 to denounce this trend. The \"Republic of the United States,\" he charged, \"which began its existence by the condemnation of the African slave traffic\u2014is the most powerful supporter of that traffic among the nations.\" What had inflamed his ire was a recent court decision in South Carolina that asserted that \"importing Africans who were not free in Africa is no offence against the Act of 1820 and is not therefore punishable as piracy.\" This was a loophole through which could be driven vessel after vessel filled to the brim with enslaved Africans, in a manner that mimicked what occurred in Brazil in the 1840s\u2014with, most likely, some of the same U.S. nationals who were active there pushing this development. There had been a change in the South since the 1820s when many in that region had applauded the cessation of the trade, he thought, and Wilson did not like what had risen in its place. Wilson also sensed that the Brazil trade had created momentum that ineluctably had created \"blowback\" on these shores.\n\nWilson was shrewd to be concerned about developments in the Palmetto State, since a few years before his peroration, a legislative committee deliberated reopening the trade. The \"minority\" which exhorted that the \"epithet 'piracy' is an insult\" to the slaveholder, sought to adhere to the Wise-Maury view by arguing that there was a \"vast distinction between upholding Slavery and upholding the Slave Trade,\" for doing the latter would \"decrease the value of our slaves.\" They too were concerned about \"rivals to fear,\" e.g., Brazil but thought this threat could be met without using draconian measures. They dismissed the notion that reopening the trade was \"for the advantage of the poor non-slaveholder\" and the hint that the \"opposition to it springs from a determination on the part of slaveholders to prevent the participation of their poor fellow citizens . . . and to maintain a species of slave aristocracy.\" This was dangerous reasoning since, a la Brazil, increasing the number of Negroes could make this community more rebellious. Perceptively it was added that there was a \"universal opinion abroad, that we retain our authority through the ignorance of our slaves as to their real strength\"\u2014an advantage that could be compromised if the numbers of enslaved increased dramatically.\n\nIt was \"well known,\" said the legislature, \"that the British Government has a predominating influence at the Spanish and Brasilian courts\" and wanted to drag Cuba, Brazil, and the Slave South down to the supposed level of their possessions in the West Indies. \"Southern civilization & southern resources & prosperity are endangered as well from foreign as from internal influences\" [emphasis-original]. Cuba and, more potently, Brazil, were seen as fire walls protecting U.S. slavery, with a breach in that southern wall ultimately imperiling what came to be the Confederacy. Reopening the slave trade was one way of fighting London and augmenting slavery's strength. But even if London succeeded in barring slavery in Brazil and Cuba\u2014which was \"not unlikely\"\u2014reopening the trade was called for since in that event \"an active competition [in] the sugar & tobacco market will spring up between\" the Slave South and \"the rest of the world. This competition will call for an additional supply of slaves, independent of the demand of the cotton interest, & thus an additional inducement will be held out for the importation of Africans.\" Moreover, the North received European immigrants to settle new territories on the continent and, thus, the South needed enslaved Africans to compete with this. \"No time should be lost,\" they beseeched, to bring in more Africans. Indeed, if there was no slave trade, it was argued disingenuously, \"the effect would be to shut up the population of the Negro countries within their own borders. It is well known that there is not and cannot be any such thing as voluntary emigration from these countries. The slave trade is the only outlet\" and if it were blocked, this would be akin to \"prohibiting emigration,\" which would not be done to Europe, so why do it to Africa?\n\n\"Free trade\" in Africans was the demand, with \"low duties\" besides. The clause in the Constitution on the slave trade showed that \"Congress has no authority to prohibit the slave trade by virtue of its power to regulate commerce. . . . this prohibitory power belongs to the state[s],\" it was said.\n\nFurther south in Savannah, which had been the initial port of entry for a considerable number of enslaved Africans, stories were proliferating in the press featuring citizens assembling to urge Congress to repeal all laws interdicting the importation of Africans. This occurred as the Georgia Senate debated a bill to strike out a clause in the Constitution barring importation of slaves from abroad, while the Southern Commercial Convention passed a resolution in favor of repeal of federal laws barring the trade. Of course, the press in this Deep South city covered the fact that the trade on the coast of Africa was flourishing, not least due to dozens of vessels owned by U.S. nationals and the goodly number of vessels embarking from New York City. Locally, John Du Bignon was found \"not guilty\" after being charged with landing enslaved Africans on Jekyl Island.\n\nFurther west in 1858, a \"committee of the Louisiana legislature approved a bill which would have permitted citizens\" of this state \"to import slaves from Brazil, Cuba and Africa.\" In a sense this was simply ratifying practice since \"for almost two decades after the Louisiana Purchase, slave smuggling was carried on to such an extent that it was almost common.\" This idea of reopening the slave trade was linked, as in Louisiana, with the development of other markets, particularly Brazil. This stood to reason as the dream of exploiting the Amazon with its seemingly impenetrable jungle seemed ideal for slave labor and a potential rich field of investment besides. For example, the **Southern Standard** of Charleston, South Carolina counseled that if the Slave South and Brazil sought to \"act together by treaty _we cannot only preserve domestic servitude, but we can defy the power of the world._ . . . we can open up the African Slave emigration again\" [emphasis-original].\n\nFurther west still, in Texas, \"the legislature ordered the printing of 10,000 copies of John Henry Brown's report favoring the slave trade,\" while Sam Houston termed the Democrats a \"slave trade party.\" Senator Stephen Douglas claimed in 1859 that \"15,000 Africans had been imported\" of late, while newspapers of that era carried \"thinly veiled\" ads for \"newly acquired Africans.\" That same crucial year, 1859, the \"Republican Association of Washington\" charged flatly that the \"African Slave Trade with the United States [is] now actually reopened . . . the current information of the day leaves no room to doubt that cargoes of slaves are being landed from time to time, in the Gulf States and that preparations are being made to enter upon the traffic in good earnest and upon a large scale. . . . capital enough, ships enough and seamen enough can be found in New York City alone, to supply to the Gulf States one hundred thousand Negroes annually.\"\n\nDenizens of Manhattan had noticed this development since among them resided some of the major actors in the illegal slave trade. Portugal's representative in this city, who was suspected of being immersed in this unclean commerce, was briefed about this by a local abolitionist. \"I think I can throw some light upon the questioning which you put to me,\" said R. W. Russell, \"namely why have not some of the principal parties really engaged in this country in carrying on the prohibited trade been detected and punished?\" And, why instead, had the local authorities continued to \"persist in insinuating that the Consul General of Portugal is engaged in the illegal traffic?\" Why was this occurring when \"sailors\" could be \"hired with impunity in New York\" for this business? \"There is now a strong party in the South in favor of legalizing the importation of slaves from Africa, so that Texas and other states may be able to get an abundant supply of laborers at low prices, instead of having to pay high prices to Virginia and the other slave raising states.\" It was \"perfectly clear that no effectual obstruction to the foreign slave trade can be raised by any efforts in the city of New York, under the existing laws. Here,\" it was proclaimed, \"the capital can be found for the trade and the sailors, agents, etc. to carry it on.\" Russell thought the present prosecutor in Manhattan to be a \"pro-slavery man,\" who deflected attention from this fact by targeting \"foreigners . . . exclusively,\" as \"it would have been impolitic for him to attack _native American firms_ \" [emphasis-original]. On the one hand, the prosecutor \"really believed from what he had heard that the Consul General was engaged in the foreign slave trade,\" along with a number of other Brazilians and Portuguese. Yet the focus on these foreigners gave a wide berth for U.S. nationals to encroach upon their markets. On the other hand, the blurring of citizenship boundaries between the U.S. and Portugal meant that it was becoming increasingly difficult to make meaningful distinctions between the two nations.\n\nStill, the authorities in Manhattan had good reason to be suspicious of some of the Portuguese nationals among them for though some had thought that by 1856 the African Slave Trade to Brazil had been extinguished, that year witnessed the \"revolting picture\" of \"the slaves 370 in number attempted to be introduced into Brazil on board of the schooner 'Mary E. Smith' of New Orleans. . . . captured at the Port of St. Matheos in the province of Espiritu Santo.\" With \"Vincent Cratonick . . . an Austrian by birth but a naturalized citizen of the United States\" at the helm\u2014he had \"years\" of service as \"chief officer in one of the Brazilian steam packets running along the coast\" and, thus, was familiar with the porous coastline\u2014the \"Mary E. Smith\" was \"fitted out for the slave trade in Boston,\" \"went direct to Africa, took her cargo of slaves and was captured by the Brazilian government. . . . among the papers found on board were several original letters of Manuel Bazilio da Cunha Reis, a partner of Figaniere, Reis & Co., of New York, which disclosed the fact of his one-third ownership of the [vessel] and of his having given her dispatch from Boston.\" Soon William Figaniere, Portugal's Consul General in New York, still protesting his innocence, was \"suspended by his government,\" as he was \"under suspicion\" due to \"his dealing with those engaged in the traffic.\"\n\nIt was not only Portuguese in New York who were involved in this grubby activity, but there were also New Yorkers in Portugal who were similarly implicated. Nicholas Pike, the U.S. Consul in Oporto, reported in 1857 his \"suspicions that many persons engaged in this illegal [slave] trade are connected with merchants doing business in this city.\" An \"American vessel\" left New York in May 1856 with \"logwood (about 40 tons)\" and a \"crew of six men, all suspicious characters\"; \"it was the intention of the consignee to place her in the slave trade.\" There were \"many parties, naturalized Portuguese citizens and others residing in the United States, who are said to be concerned in this vessel. I have been informed that she is really owned by . . . Barboza, merchant, doing business in New York City, and this gentleman is in partnership with persons in this city of Oporto,\" while \"some of the crew confessed . . . that they had resided a long time in the state of Louisiana.\"\n\nCommander Charles Wise of the Royal Navy had more than an inkling about what all this meant. He was stationed near Cabinda, off the coast of Angola and in the summer of 1858 was observing a dizzying number of slavers bearing the U.S. flags sailing within his purview. There was, he said, a \"new and formidable form of conducting the slave trade by Joint-Stock companies, designated 'expeditions to Africa'\" and \"principally formed by some of the most respectable firms in Havana and also at New York, Boston and New Orleans.\" Again, playing on blurred citizenship boundaries, \"the agent procures naturalized citizens to act as captains of the intended slavers,\" then \"procure[s] a crew, generally composed of foreigners,\" while the vessel [too] is cleared as _bona fide_ American.\" On board were \"cargoes of rum\" and \"muskets\" that were to be exchanged for Africans. \"Vessels proceeding to the Bights Division for slaves are generally consigned to one or other of the veteran slave dealers formerly engaged in the Brazilian trade\" and \"on the South Coast they are consigned in a similar manner.\" There they deployed \"every exertion to put our cruisers on the wrong track; the position or change of each vessel is telegraphed along the coast, and in the neighbourhood of cruisers fires are invariably lit upon the shore, the smoke of which, as a warning of danger, is observable about fourteen miles at sea.\"\n\nYet, more than slick tactics, it was the migration of Wall Street tactics that was energizing the slave trade since \"joint stock speculations engaging in the slave trade can never experience a loss. The greater the number of vessels dispatched for slaves, the greater the chance of success; for if two vessels out of twelve escape with slaves, the proceeds will pay the expenses of the remaining ten and still leave an immense profit,\" since \"if two vessels out of twelve belonging to a company escape with cargoes of 600 each; the profit realized will amount to about 189,200 [pounds].\" Thus, in 1857, \"31 vessels . . . proceeded to the West Coast of Africa for slaves . . . capable of conveying 19,200 Negroes and . . . 19 were captured, while 11 or more than one-third escaped with 7400 slaves. The profit . . . must have been immense . . . [about] 1400 percent.\" This was rending further the fabric of an already distressed continent, as \"slave hunts by the people of the King of Dahomey against the inhabitants of Abeokuta and vice versa, have of late been common occurrences. . . . the King of Dahomey demands from 60 to 170 dollars each for his slaves; the consequence is, the majority of slavers proceed to the headquarters of the Slave Trade, the South Coast,\" where Africans were cheaper. And, yes, he concluded wearily, \"the Slave Trade is entirely conducted under the American flag.\"\n\nBack home, some were increasingly enraged by what U.S. nationals were helping to engender. \"Without exception,\" said one concerned writer in the pro-slavery **De Bow's Review,** \"every diplomatist, every speaker in Parliament, every declaimer at the hustings, every contributor to the numerous journals, concurs in attributing the present lamentable condition of the African slave-trade to the inadequacy of our law, the negligence or imbecility of the American government and its officials, or to the persevering activity of our people in opposition to and despite the professed wishes of that government.\" London in turn was pressuring Washington\u2014which was serving to foment abolitionist sentiment generally, which was impelling the nation toward sharper regional conflict.\n\nMeanwhile, reports continued to proliferate about enslaved Africans flowing into the Slave South as this Civil War approached. Some of these \"recaptured Africans\" were halted on the high seas and taken to Liberia, which witnessed a \"great and unprecedented influx\" of these \"wild heathen from various tribes.\" Some of these \"nude and emaciated creatures\" made it all the way to New York City; \"a number of our recaptures,\" it was said, \"have wandered away under the idea of returning to their own country. . . . one man hung himself in a fit of mental despondency and some 40 have died.\" Still, they kept coming, notably to Key West\u2014\"three slave-ships captured lately, & 1700 recaptured Africans are now at Key West,\" said fire-eater Edmund Ruffin in June 1860\u2014and other desolate parts of Florida. In 1858, Howell Cobb, Secretary of the Treasury, ascertained that a \"slaver with a cargo of Africans will attempt to land the same very soon [on] the southwest coast of Louisiana or on the Texas coast\u2014most probably the latter.\" Cobb was suspicious when \"Messrs. E. Lapitt & Co., merchants of Charleston, South Carolina\" sought \"to clear the American ship 'Richard Cobden' . . . for the coasts of Africa for the purpose of taking on board African emigrants.\" This was a ruse, he thought.\n\nOthers were arriving in Manhattan. A number of \"very sprightly young lads\" arrived in New York City in \"full health and spirits\"; \"they could soon be taught enough of the English language to become valuable,\" it was thought, and could be sent to a local orphanage. The U.S. vessel, \"San Jacinto,\" off the coast of Angola in the fall of 1860 captured a \"cargo of 750 Africans and have sent her [crew] to Norfolk, Va. for adjudication.\" This slaver, the \"Bonito,\" had been \"cleared in New York on the 16th of July last. . . . the chief mate is Robert Johnson alias Robinson, and the second mate an American from Portsmouth, N.H. named Nathaniel Currier, alias Farrell, alias Bell\"; in addition there were a number of Spanish surnamed individuals in the slaver's crew. Like other Africans captured on the high seas, these were \"unfortunate creatures\"\u2014\"two committed suicide\" and \"neither persuasion nor force could make them take food. Two died of disease, one fell down the hatch and broke his neck and one died in the harbor.\" Thus, by the time they reached Monrovia, this \"immense and overwhelming influx of naked and homeless savages\" of 750 had been reduced to 617.\n\nEncouraging to U.S. slavers was the reluctance of U.S. juries to convict them for violating the law. Such was the case of the ship \"'Echo'\"; this trial, says historian Ronald Takaki, \"showed that African slave traders would not be punished in the South.\" Just as there was an \"underground railroad,\" some Southerners called for a \"'submarine railroad' from Africa to the South.\"\n\nThis apparent ceaseless tide of Africans flowing across the Atlantic was infuriating to some. Charles W. Thomas, a Georgian, chaplain to the African Squadron from 1855 to 1857, was upset by the \"influx in . . . considerable numbers of savage Africans into the southern states\"; its continuation \"would be dangerous to the institutions of these states, and in portions of them dangerous to the existence of the white race,\" and the blame rested squarely on the shoulders of \"reckless speculators, fitted out at New York and Boston.\"\n\nThe African Squadron was still around as these events were unfolding but was widely viewed as ineffectual. The chaplain of the Squadron, the Reverend Thomas, found that the \"African station is not popular with navy officers . . . because of its expensiveness, the long interval of 'news from home' and the monotony of the cruiser's life there.\" The food was not very good either. This was not an ideal environment for a superb performance. \"Of the more than two hundred persons arrested by the United States authorities for involvement in the traffic between 1837 and 1862,\" says the historian, Robert Conrad, \"almost half were never brought to trial, about a third were tried but acquitted, and less than two dozen were convicted and sent to prison, most for short terms that were quickly ended by presidential pardons.\" On the other hand, the Squadron's performance may have been improving as the pivotal election of 1860 approached\u2014but this may have served the unintended consequence of stoking the fury of Southern extremists, who feared that they could only attain their coveted goal of ever cheaper Africans by secession.\n\nOverall, however, the Squadron's performance left much to be desired, something that perpetually infuriated London. As the crucial election year of 1860 was approaching, Lord Lyons assailed the \"apparent apathy of Commander Totten\" of the U.S. \"in the fulfillment of his duties.\" \"Noted slavers\" were \"openly cruising under American colors between Ambriz and the Congo,\" yet Totten and his crew seemed oblivious.\n\nAndrew Boyd Cummings was a sailor on one of these Squadron ships, cruising off the coast of Angola in 1857, and he was decidedly unimpressed with the job he and his comrades were performing. \"Our Captain, though one of the pleasantest gentlemen socially,\" he said \"lacks energy & boldness, he is the most timid captain with a single exception I ever sailed with. I believe one or two slavers have slipped through our fingers and now that our whereabouts is known all along the coast, they will keep a double lookout.\" He heard of \"slave traders being up the Congo [River] & loading with slaves but our sanitary regulations prohibit our running up any of the rivers.\" Anyway, he was not exactly ecstatic to be among so many Africans\u2014\"the natives are a miserable squalid looking set of wretches, small slender, entirely different from our Kroomen & the stalwart darkies of the north coast.\"\n\nHe was impressed with the slavers and their tactics of avoiding detection; \"our appearance will be telegraphed by means of fires & canoes for a hundred miles in a single night.\" The Congo River was a \"grand emporium\" for slaves; \"they collect them & keep them in a house or enclosure called a 'barracoon' until a fair chance offers to ship them to Cuba or Brazil.\" But Cummings was hardly sympathetic and exposed his raw sentiments when he said his experience in Angola \"seems to verify the poetical adage (& philosophical too) of 'nigger will be nigger.'\"\n\nGeorge Hamilton Perkins, born in 1836 in New England, sailed with the African Squadron and seemed to be a spectator as the Royal Navy swooped down on U.S. slavers. \"A week ago,\" he said in November 1859, \"one of the English ships captured an American slaver with five hundred Negroes on board. The English make a good many captures,\" he added admiringly. In faraway Fernando Po, off Africa's west coast, \"we boarded a ship called the 'Firefly' and it was the same one father took me on board of years ago in Boston. She was suspected of being a slaver then and _might_ lie under the same suspicion now\" [emphasis-original]. This enforcer of anti-slave trade laws added, \"if father was in business now and had some vessels here, I could attend to his affairs for him, and might even send him a whole cargo of Negroes if he said so!\" Throwing up his hands figuratively, he added, \"it is almost useless to try to do anything to stop the slave trade; our cruisers cannot do much under our laws and the English make the principal captures. Slaves are being constantly shipped and the King of Dahomey is now on a slave hunt to supply some ships which he expects from the States.\"\n\nPerkins was bewildered by \"our laws regulating captures\" for they were \"as inflexible as the Westminster Catechism, and a Captain could not detain a vessel without great risk of civil damages, unless slaves were actually on board. Suspected ships might have all the fittings and infamous equipage for the slave-traffic on board, but if their masters produced correct papers the vessels could not be touched; and our officers not infrequently had the mortification of learning that ships they had overhauled and believed to be slavers, but could not seize under their instructions, got off the coast eventually with large cargoes of ebon humanity on board. Not so with English commanders,\" whose anger at U.S. nonfeasance led them from being \"at first cordial and agreeable\" to \"cold and indifferent . . . after a few months.\"\n\nWilliam McBlair of Maryland was also toiling on behalf of the African Squadron and his opinion of what he was seeing was not very lofty either. \"The slave trade\" was \"flourishing in this coast,\" he said of Angola in 1857. \"It is said that five vessels have lately left with slaves. The Congo River and its neighborhood have been the headquarters and American gold is now quite plenty there, having been brought in vessels which clear from New York.\" Yet he was not sufficiently motivated to attack what he was witnessing. \"I wish honest abolitionists could see the degraded & impoverished condition of the natives,\" he told his wife in late 1857, for \"they would find that much unnecessary sympathy had been expanded. When I tell you that fathers sell their children for a bottle of wine you will have a pretty good idea of their moral[s].\" \"And,\" he added, \"it is supposed that if this season proves as dry [as] the two last that the people will be suffering famine to such an extent that they will be flocking to the coast as they have on a former occasion, requesting to be carried to some other country where they could get something to eat\" since \"provisions of every kind are now very scarce and although we are daily in sight of the coast, we have to live upon salt\"; \"it is impossible to get an egg at any price.\" He observed \"Yankee traders\" in Luanda, including a \"noted slave trader.\" The beleaguered McBlair reported officially that \"I cannot impress too strongly upon the government the inability of the present squadron of sailing vessels to carry out their views and urge the employment of steamers for that purpose.\" At that point in the fall of 1857 \"on the eastern bank of the Congo River,\" an \"American bark was in the neighborhood expecting a load of slaves\"; this was one among \"several American vessels, one a very fine clipper from New Orleans,\" all set \"to carry off slaves.\"\n\nHer Majesty's Consul in this same Angolan city, Edmund Gabriel, observed in 1859 that \"the traffic under the flag of the United States was prosecuted to an amazing extent and with greater impunity than ever.\" One of his countrymen, an English commodore, declared in 1857 that the \"'many instances of American slavers leaving ports in the United States fully fitted for the slave trade'\" was increasing. \"'New Orleans, being a seaport of slaving celebrity, may be expected to take a leading hand in such expeditions,'\" he offered, \"'but I cannot help feeling surprised that New York should be, this year, one of the greatest slave-trading ports.'\"\n\nU.S. nationals may have been returning to their wicked ways of slaving in part because traditional trade seemed to be slowing down in the 1850s in key regions of West Africa. The Kimball family of the U.S. Northeast had done quite well over the years in this area, trading in rum, tobacco, ground nuts, and the like. But as early as 1853, their agent writing from Lagos was disconsolate, asserting \"where I shall go next is uncertain. I thought some of going to St. Thomas & from there to Gabon but what I have on board won't pay for the trouble. . . . times are not so good in the Bight as I expected.\" As time passed, things did not seem to improve; \"there is nothing doing at this place,\" it was reported in 1855, referring to Lagos, though trade in oils continued. The goods that were advancing in price were often seen as complements to the slave trade. Thus, writing from the \"Gold Coast,\" Kimball's agent spoke glowingly of the \"extraordinary advances in the price of gunpowder which article is now selling here at twenty two cents per pound . . . the price of rum is also advancing.\" By 1856, he was \"sorry to say\" that he \"had sold all\" of this explosive item. Yet by 1859, there were still sour complaints emanating from the Gold Coast that \"times are still dull . . . markets are overstocked . . . tobacco unsold. . . . there is some twenty American vessels, that have thrown their cargoes into the market on credit, and like all the rest will have to wait sometime for their pay. . . . times cannot be much worse.\" This agent tried to buck himself up\u2014\"I have always had fair luck before, and I am not quite discouraged yet\"\u2014but harsh reality was hard to overcome with bright sentiments. Weeks later there were further complaints that the \"trade about Accra is spoilt for sometime [as] an act of late war between government and Bush Niggers [ _sic_ ],\" though this conflict was not said to be tied to the proliferation of gunpowder for which the Kimballs were so responsible.\n\nFurther down the coast in Angola, yet another U.S. Northeast family was not celebrating either. \"Trade is very dull,\" Robert Brookhouse was told in the spring of 1856. In 1859, he was informed that his agent near Benguela had been \"very ill for the last two months\" and, besides, was \"not very fluent in Portuguese,\" which might explain why \"trade\" was \"at a standstill.\" Intriguingly though \"business\" was \"so poor\" in Angola, there did appear to be a demand for the provision of U.S. flags\u2014with the extremely skeptical suspecting that they may have been attached to vessels engaged in shady business. In 1856, Simon Stodder of Salem said that in Luanda there had \"been considerable . . . American produce . . . sold here . . . we could have sold more.\" Interestingly\u2014and perhaps alluding to the slave trade\u2014he added, \"we could have sold more if we had it to sell. . . . I am in hopes that those New York merchants that send vessels to the Congo River also for a decoy send [vessels] to Loanda and Benguela.\"\n\nThough business was not booming, in Luanda, it was reported in 1858, there were \"thirty-nine Portuguese firms and two American firms which do more business than all the others put together. There is now not a single English mercantile house,\" in this sprawling city, which convinced the suspicious that London's crackdown on the slave trade was part of a larger scheme to batter rivals while gaining a toehold in a growing market.\n\nAcross the continent, there was a \"virtual monopoly for the Americans for the coffee and gums of Aden, for the dates and hides of Muscat and for the ivory of Mozambique. . . . at the same time the English Consul in Zanzibar reported direct trade to England from that island as completely non-existent\"\u2014again convincing the suspicious of London's ill motives. George Abbott of the U.S. State Department was told that there was \"no doubt the American flag has been violated on the South coast in the Portuguese territory by vessels purchased or chartered in Rio [de] Janeiro\" for purposes of \"the slave trade.\" This was no minor matter since \"from 8 to 1000 slaves\" were \"brought from the coast for the yearly supply of the island.\" All this was occurring as the \"American trade has been steadily increasing\" and a \"formerly . . . large English trade in Zanzibar . . . [was] entirely stopped.\"\n\nIt is virtually impossible to disentangle what aspects of U.S. trade with Africa in the run-up to the Civil War were illicit and which were legitimate. The experience of George Howe suggests why. In 1860, this medical student was residing in New Orleans when a physician friend asked if he were interested in a trip \"to the coast of Africa,\" presumably for the purpose of dispatching U.S. Negroes to Liberia. But once at sea, he discovered that he was on a slave ship with the Congo River as its destination. Soon another shipload of Africans\u2014this one over 1000\u2014was landed at the U.S.'s doorstep, in Cuba. At the same time, London's representative in the U.S. worried that the \"American ship 'Thomas Watson' now on her voyage to Liverpool is suspected of having been engaged in the slave trade and that slaves may have been landed from her in the United States.\" Camels from the Canary Islands were thought to have been brought to the Southwest in this vessel but, it was thought, the \"importation was too inconsiderable for the amount of tonnage employed and may have been used as a pretext to conceal slaves.\" From Cape Verde came the report of the \"suspicious nature\" of a vessel arriving from New York that had manacles concealed on board with a crew of \"American citizens excepting one.\" \"No doubt exists in my mind,\" said the British Consul, \"that this vessel is engaged in a slave trading voyage. . . . her crew, with the exception of two persons, do not speak the English language. There is a Portuguese supercargo on board.\"\n\nIn 1859 in the Azores, Britain's Consul had a strange experience. \"An American schooner called 'William'\" arrived and made \"large orders for provisions and bought an anchor and chain and several spars and employed carpenters on board.\" The ship's captain, George D. Walker, was asked \"to bring his ship's register on shore, but always made some excuse.\" Owing money for debts run up during this brief interlude, he slipped away, though \"in his hurry he left his carpenter on shore who states an oath that the real name of the vessel is the 'Wanderer' of Savannah . . . and that the Captain's real name is Lincoln Patten . . . state of Maine . . . a few days after leaving Savannah the said Captain stated to the crew his intention of going to the east coast of Africa for a cargo of slaves.\" \"Early in 1861 the United States Navy captured three American slavers, one with as many as nine hundred slaves on board. . . . on the east coast,\" though it was \"commoner to find American slave ships sailing under Spanish colours.\"\n\nSumming up the state of the illegal slave trade in 1859, London's Foreign Office concluded bluntly that the \"slave trade has increased considerably within the last two years\" and \"will [be] carried on with still greater vigour during the present summer. The vessels engaged in this traffic are almost exclusively American or at any rate they are furnished with American papers and fly the American flag.\" Washington \"of late\" had \"failed to carry out their treaty engagements,\" for \"within the last two years there have been periods when a United States ship of war has not been seen on the African coast for months\" and \"this too at a time when every slaver on the coast was furnished with American papers and flying the American flag.\" Now there had been \"no attempt to land slaves in Brazil having been made since . . . 1855\" and this traffic was \"considered as extinct.\"\n\nBut miles from the shores of Florida, the trade was flourishing and this inevitably was drawing the attention\u2014and ire\u2014of abolitionist forces on both sides of the Atlantic. As the Civil War approached, London's emissary in Havana noticed that the \"slave trade continues to be carried on from this island upon the most extensive scale\"; the \"vessels employed\" were \"mostly . . . American built.\" Hence, \"the number of Spanish ships has consequently become small that are engaged in the traffic.\" Correspondingly, the number of U.S. ships was ballooning, with one September 1858 report from Havana listing 59 ships sailing to Africa in recent days\u2014\"50 American, 7 Spanish, 1 Peruvian and 1 Norwegian.\"\n\n1858 also proved to be a banner year for the slave trade in Angola. \"This traffic appears to have received a considerable impulse during the last twelve months,\" said Edmund Gabriel of the U.K., reporting from Luanda. The reason? \"Enormous profits,\" along with the \"great facility and security afforded the slave dealers by carrying on their operations under the disguises of the American flag.\" Effective measures off the coast of Brazil had forced the trade northward toward the U.S. and Cuba so that now an African was worth \"400 to 500 dollars\" in Havana but could \"be bought on this coast for 15 or 20.\" This was all rather \"distressing.\" Reporting from further north in Sierra Leone, Commander Charles Wise of the Royal Navy concurred with this dismal evaluation, adding that \"in all the annals of the Slave Trade the year 1858 will have been the most successful . . . never was the system better organized or more systematically carried out.\" The U.S. flag continued to \"cover this disgraceful traffic and does so more openly than in the year 1857 for in that year the papers in many cases proved to be . . . palpable forgeries, while in 1858 the slavers' registry and principal papers were genuine in, I think, every instance.\" Spectacular increases in the African Slave Trade continued in 1859, particularly from Angola and especially under the U.S. flag.\n\nHampered by the crackdown on the trade to Brazil, U.S. slavers concentrated more on Cuba, which allowed for more smuggling of Africans into the U.S. Southeast. One illustrative example was the slaver \"'Cora,'\" captured off the coast of Angola with \"705 slaves on board\" but with \"neither papers nor flag on board but the words 'Cora, of New York' were on her stern.\" Thus, between August and October 1860 alone, \"3071 Negroes\" were \"rescued from foreign slavery by the capture of . . . four vessels.\" Even the Portuguese, somnolent in the best of times about the African Slave Trade, were beginning to notice the activity of U.S. slave traders in or about Luanda. Increasingly, the slave trade was being disguised as a form of voluntary emigration of African \"colonists\" or \"servants,\" who were being dispatched across the Indian Ocean to Mauritius or Reunion Island or from Angola to St. Thomas\u2014or S\u00e3o Tom\u00e9 e Principe.\n\nEven Washington's representative in Luanda had detected these trends. In 1856, the Secretary of the Navy was \"advised by John G. Willis, the U.S. Commercial agent at St. Paul de Loando that 'the slave trade is still carried on to some extent by vessels sailing from New York.\" The next year Willis continued to complain that \"the slave trade on this coast is now flourishing. . . . the Congo River and its neighborhood have been the headquarters and American gold is now quite plenty here, having been brought in these vessels which clear from New York\u2014some for Cape Verde and some for Loando, but which seldom come here.\" In 1859, Willis had \"heard of four or five shipments\" of Africans \"being made, the last one a few days since, in which one thousand slaves were placed on board one vessel. The 'trade' has now gone in part, from the Congo River to the north of that river.\"\n\nThe crackdown on the slave trade by the British in Brazilian waters contributed to the move northward of this business\u2014closer to the protective embrace of U.S. shores: this and the enthusiasm for the trade expressed by Dixie nationalists fearful of what an ascending Republican Party might bring, combined to give an electric jolt to this commerce globally. The presence of the Royal Navy near the Congo River and Angola provides some indication as to what slavers were doing there, yet their corresponding difficulty in monitoring East Africa means that the depth of the African Slave Trade as it lurched to its conclusion is harder to measure. \"It was largely because our Navy was so busily engaged in an endeavour to suppress the West Coast trade . . . that the East Coast was so neglected,\" said one British analyst. Contemporaneously, in 1858 a British official agreed, asserting that the \"materials for a report on the present state of the slave trade on this coast are so scanty, that I can scarcely venture to make one. That slaves have been exported there is no doubt\"; even \"the late Governor-General of Mozambique\" had \"been a party to the shipment.\" Suggesting how and why it was difficult to comprehend the African Slave Trade in isolation from other forces, it was declared that the perilous \"state of affairs in India [the Sepoy Revolt] and at the Cape . . . prevented any adequate force being sent to . . . Mozambique, and it has been, with slight exception, entirely unwatched.\" As a result, it was declared glumly, \"the prospect of putting down the slave trade has seldom been less encouraging.\" \"It is only within the last few years,\" said the British Consul in Zanzibar in January 1861, \"that the Slave Trade from Zanzibar has assumed such large proportions.\" Simultaneously, another report from this east African island noted ominously that \"a Spanish slave-agent from Cuba arrived here in an American vessel and took up his abode with notorious Spanish slave-agent Buona Ventura Mas, who has long been carrying on an extensive Traffic in Slaves in the Zanzibar dominions.\"\n\nShortly before that Joseph T. Crawford, London's representative in Havana, asserted that \"the slave trade, which is being carried on so extensively and successfully, has been revived in . . . Mozambique and the East Coast of Africa\"; for an \"abundance of Negroes\" there, \"their cheapness\" and \"less risk of capture\" meant that \"numerous expeditions have been fitted out and gone in that direction\"\u2014\"not infrequently\" these journeys did \"originate in the United States of America.\" There were \"agents from Boston and New Orleans who are engaged in completing the subscriptions for shares, which have been already in part filled up by American capitalists,\" as this putrid business had become an easy way to make easy profits. \"One of these schemes is for a ship of 900 tons to bring 2000 slaves.\" Africans were \"to be had on the East Coast of Africa for about 28 dollars each; and even so they are paid for in goods, upon which there is at the least 100 percent of profit.\" Vessels did \"proceed from the United States, under American colours, to a port in Madagascar. . . . the victims being brought over from the opposite coast of Africa in Arab vessels.\" At that moment, said Crawford, \"we have none\"\u2014meaning \"cruisers in these waters.\" The U.S. was similarly deficient in East Africa.\n\nIn the run-up to the Civil War, U.S. slavers had \"flooded the zone,\" carpet-bombing the southern coastline of Africa from Angola to Mozambique with slave ships. Charles Wise of the Royal Navy sensed this from his perch near Cabinda, where these vessels long had honeycombed. In the late spring of 1859 he was typically flummoxed. \"Within the last six months upwards of twenty-five slavers have sailed for the coast of Africa; only eight of that number . . . have been captured. What has become of the remaining seventeen vessels, of which we only know four to have escaped, while two more have doubtless shipped ere this. All these vessels, with one exception, were American\" and their \"profits\" were \"enormous.\" \"This year the number of vessels escaping will exceed all known annals of [the] Slave Trade and encourage the Americans to enter with all the energies peculiar to them, for the remained of the present and the ensuing year of 1860.\" Even Washington's man in Angola, John G. Willis, had noticed in late 1859 that that \"slave trade has been remarkably active this year and many vessels have left this coast with slaves.\"\n\nBy the summer of 1859, Wise was feverishly apoplectic in his denunciation of U.S. slavers. \"105 slavers capable of conveying 71,000 slaves will arrive on the African coast in the course of the twelve months ending March 1860,\" he declared, and \"one fourth of that number will be seized\" by the Royal Navy, \"still leaving 79 vessels\"\u2014and this was \"exclusive of slaves shipped from the East Coast of Africa.\" With enraged sarcasm he proclaimed, \"Such is American Law! The captains of slavers ridicule it. They boast openly that money does all things. . . . correct papers will cover almost any amount of slave trading,\" as the \"many instances of American slavers leaving ports in the United States fully fitted for the Slave Trade,\" indicated. \"New Orleans, being a seaport of slaving celebrity\" and \"New York\" being \"one of the greatest slave-trading ports\" were clearly culpable. It was well known that Lusophone nationals and diplomats involved in \"such houses as that of Cunha Reis, Figaniere and Co. of New York\" were \"acquiring thousands by a successful traffic in blood\" but the U.S. authorities were lethargic. They all were \"sacrificing to their idol gold the lives of many thousands of poor, harmless, defenceless wretches.\"\n\nHe was upset for sound reason though top U.S. diplomat, Lewis Cass, pleaded ignorance, asserting blindly in the spring of 1860 that \"if there has been any recent increase in that Trade or any employment of American capital in its prosecution, of which employment I have seen no proof.\" Actually Cass was well aware that in 1858 London had retreated decisively on the right to search U.S. flagged vessels\u2014a feat which the historian Andrew McLaughlin termed \"one of the most just and most brilliant triumphs of which to this day our diplomacy can boast.\" But, ironically, London\u2014which was overburdened in India, the Crimea, and elsewhere\u2014did Washington no great favor in yielding. This may have been a Pyrrhic victory in that the accompanying emboldened conversation about taking advantage of London's yielding by reopening the slave trade to the U.S. itself, contributed to sectional tension. For a great Civil War was to grip the U.S. and, though in its early stages, the increase in the African Slave Trade seemed to dwarf even the extravagant surges that had begun in 1858, this conflict was to place a permanent clamp on this infamous commerce and, in the process, contribute mightily to abolition in what had been the largest market\u2014Brazil.\n\nThe late 1850s marked a zenith for the illicit slave trade and the profits to be gained flowed into the pockets of men on both sides of the Mason-Dixon line, particularly those in New York and New Orleans. But as London pushed the trade out of Brazilian waters, it simply moved further north to the doorstep of the U.S. itself and, thus, ironically, the actual rise of this commerce actually marked its death knell, as the apparent successes of fire-eaters from Dixie helped to push the nation into a bloody conflict.\n\nSlave deck of the \"Wildfire,\" brought into Key West from the Congo River on April 30, 1860. Men are on lower deck; women on upper deck. As the Deep South moved toward Civil War, the slave trade to Cuba and Brazil increased with spillover onto U.S. shores. Courtesy Library of Congress.\n\n## **8  \nThe Civil War Begins\/The Slave Trade Continues**\n\nIn the antebellum era, slavery and, especially the African Slave Trade, were a \"significant factor in the diplomacy of the Western Hemisphere. The influence of the institution on relations with Great Britain, Spain and Mexico\"\u2014not to mention Brazil and Portugal and Southern Africa\u2014\"has been described as a 'constant orienting factor in the diplomatic history of the United States.'\" But ironically, just as the ascendancy of the Republican Party in 1860 marked a spike in regional tensions nationally, the prospect that this organization would be less circumspect toward the illegal slave trade than its predecessors was a harbinger of improved relations internationally, especially with London. If the U.S. was spending less time confronting the U.K. on contentious matters, which, in a sense, were distilled expressions of white Southern nationalism\u2014such as the right to search suspected U.S. slavers\u2014this meant more time and opportunity for North and South to confront each other. And that only served to underscore the importance of an alliance of the Slave South with the slave empire in Brazil in this confrontation; moreover, even if London's pressure was hindering the transport of enslaved Africans to Brazil, this did not signal the end of the trade. How the Civil War influenced the fate of this trade and the Slave South's relation to Brazil are the linked themes of this chapter.\n\nThere was much for North and South to confront each other about, particularly concerning the African Slave Trade, which had become an impassioned rallying cry for the most determined secessionists. Even those who were willing to conciliate the South on the question of slavery\u2014acknowledging its reality below the Mason-Dixon line but hesitant about its expansion\u2014found the prospect of reopening the African Slave Trade, de facto or de jure, hard to swallow or ignore. \"There is no doubt,\" concludes one analyst, \"that a sharp increase in slave traffic was taking place in 1859 and 1860,\" accompanied by a \"flood of rumors concerning the landing of fresh Congoes along Southern shorelines\"\u2014and \"geographically, no shoreline could have been better laid out for smuggling than the coasts of South Carolina and Georgia,\" as \"no amount of patrolling by land or sea could have stopped smuggling.\" Concurrently, ideologues of the Slave South felt that they could build a stronger, more cohesive nation if they could cut ties with the North and formalize relations with, e.g., Brazil.\n\nL. W. Spratt spoke for many of his fellow fire-eating white Southerners when he said bluntly that \"in a union of unequal races there is nothing wrong in relations of inequality. . . . if slavery be right, there can be no wrong in the foreign, whatever there may be in the domestic slave trade.\" This ban against the \"foreign\" slave trade simply served to \"send the slave, that else might come to us, to Cuba and Brazil, and to intensify the sufferings of his transportation. They certainly do not arrest the slave trade.\" He concurred with the notion that \"'the foreign slave trade will restore political power to the South,'\" by increasing her population and congressional representation. As these fire-eaters saw it, when Washington would not yield on this bedrock point, this was little more than rank hypocrisy, worthy of secession. Such unforgiving attitudes led the British writer Thomas Macaulay to conclude during the antebellum era that \"'I do not deem it unlikely that the black population of Brazil will be free and contented within eighty or a hundred years; I do not envision, however, a reasonable likelihood of similar change in the United States.'\"\n\nFor its part, London was in a bind. There was pressure domestically to press for the end of the slave trade and slavery, just as there was similar pressure to make sure that Cuba did not fall into U.S. hands. The former objective pushed toward abolitionism, while ensuring that Cuba remained Spanish soil empowered a European nation that in many ways was more antithetical to abolitionism than the U.S. itself. Simultaneously, Madrid was seeking to conspire with Washington in legitimizing objections to London's persistent demands to search potential slavers. This was a difficult circle to square.\n\nIn February 1859, Congressman J. B. Clary of Kentucky took to the floor of Congress to address these matters. It was Her Majesty's government and the closely linked question of slavery that was at the heart of Washington's foreign policy and, as he saw it, this was unacceptable. Why should the U.S. be \"forced\" to \"maintain at vast expense on the coast of Africa, a squadron equal to about one-seventh of our whole force.\" Now, Mr. Clary did not like the African Slave Trade, and this was not because of any charitable attitudes toward Negroes but \"on account of the white race, and upon grounds of expediency.\"\n\nWhen secession occurred and the so-called Confederate States of America (CSA) were confronted with the question of what was to be done about the African Slave Trade\u2014which by 1861 was reaching ever greater heights\u2014it too found itself entangled in a morass of contradictions. Thus, weeks after the Emancipation Proclamation in 1863, CSA leader Judah Benjamin\u2014whose Jewish origin has been stressed historically but whose Portuguese origin is more relevant to the African Slave Trade, given the preponderance of Portuguese Americans in this illegal commerce\u2014contacted his representative in London about the provisions in this newly formed nation's Constitution concerning the African Slave Trade: \"'Congress shall also have power to prohibit the introduction of any slaves from any State not a member of, or Territory not belonging to, this Confederacy.'\" \"It is thus seen,\" said Benjamin, \"that while the States were willing to trust Congress with the power to prohibit the introduction of African slaves from the United States, they were not willing to trust it with the power of prohibiting their introduction from any other quarter\"\u2014including Brazil, Cuba, and Africa itself. This was a loophole large enough to steer a fully armored slave ship through\u2014and this is precisely what occurred.\n\nYet it was not done openly, it remained shrouded, though it was hardly a secret that some of the most determined secessionists were ardent advocates of the African Slave Trade. Why? One reason was international public opinion and a fear that major powers would be averse to recognizing diplomatically a nation that would be so audacious as to deal in human flesh. The supposed \"intercepted instructions\" of Benjamin to his emissary, L. Q. C. Lamar, spoke directly to this matter, reminding him, \"you are well aware of how firmly fixed in our Constitution is the policy of this Confederacy against the opening of that trade.\" Opponents of the CSA were not buying this subterfuge. Delegates to the Maryland Constitutional Convention held during the Civil War were instructed that these rebels \"were seeking nothing more nor less than the reopening of the African slave trade. That is what they were for, and they knew they could not have that so long as the Constitution and the laws of the United States were in force.\" All they wanted was to buy \"Negroes for $30 a head,\" \"instead of paying you $1000 for every Negro they bought\"\u2014it was just that simple. Seizing Texas was simply the first step in this plot \"and here is the beautiful feature of their scheme, they did not intend to stop with the acquisition of Texas.\" For after that \"lay Tamaulipas, Chihuahua and other Mexican states\"\u2014and then moving further southward.\n\nWhen London got its hands on the CSA provisions on slave trading, elation did not reign. There was \"abolishing the punishment of death for slave trading,\" to begin with; then, said Consul Robert Bunch from Charleston, it also provided that \"'Negroes, coolies, mulattoes or other persons of color' who may be found on board of any vessel captured for violating this Act shall in certain cases be sold at public auction for the benefit of the Confederate States and of the informer.\" Would not this simply transfer the profit from slave trading from the individual to the state, thus providing even further incentive for an acceleration of this foul commerce? London was displeased.\n\nThe problem for the CSA was that potentially valued global allies\u2014e.g., slaveholding Spain\u2014seemed to agree, in certain respects, with an abolitionist viewpoint. This was an abrupt turnabout for Spaniards had found a congenial home in Charleston as early as 1816. There was substantial traffic, understandably, between Havana and Charleston\u2014two of the major poles of human bondage in the hemisphere\u2014during the antebellum era. When the CSA was organized, the Spanish Consul in South Carolina was reminded by a rebel official of the \"good will and respect which you have created here in the discharge of your official duties.\"\n\nThus, when P. J. Rost of the CSA met in Madrid with Spanish Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Calderon Collantes, he was initially satisfied, being \"well pleased with the allusion\" comparing Spain's earlier struggle against Napoleon to that of the Slave South against Washington. Madrid's man went on to say that \" _on the question of right he had no doubt it is clearly with the South_ \" [emphasis-original]. One can imagine Collantes nodding vigorously when Rost told him that Spain's \"interest was that North America should be possessed by two great powers who would balance each other.\" Spain \"was our natural ally and friend,\" Collantes was told, \"with similarity of institutions, ideas and social habits.\" Then one can imagine Rost frowning when Collantes shifted the discussion by reminding him that the \"North had always been friendly\"\u2014being the \"best customer for the sugar\" of Cuba\u2014while the South was \"ever hostile to Spain.\" \"No private expeditions had ever sailed from [Northern] ports for the invasion of Cuba but invariably from those of the South and that if the Confederate States become hereafter a strong government, their first attempt of conquest would be that island.\" Yes, \"the South would . . . deem in its interest that a great country like Spain should continue a slave power. The two, together with Brazil, would have a monopoly of the system of labor which alone can make intertropical America.\" But that was not enough to win over Madrid wholly for Spain had not forgotten events of a few years earlier involving Southern-inspired filibustering expeditions to Cuba and designs on Spanish territory near Hispaniola.\n\nWhen one discusses the waxing and waning of the African Slave Trade, at issue by definition are forces external to North America\u2014Africans, in the first place. This is even more the case when it is considered that during the Civil War\u2014and even before\u2014how this institution was propelled by U.S. and CSA nationals heavily dependent on developments in London, Havana, Lisbon, Madrid, Kingston, Port au Prince, and, of course, the twin towers of the African Slave Trade: Luanda and Rio de Janeiro.\n\nWhen he was asked in the antebellum era if he \"'could conceive of a greater and more atrocious evil than this slave trade?'\" John Quincy Adams answered simply, \"'Yes. Admitting the right of search by foreign officers of our vessels upon the seas in time of peace; for that would be making slaves of ourselves.'\" Such an attitude brought Washington into a bruising confrontation with London, particularly after the latter moved to ban slavery, then sought to handcuff the illicit slave trade.\n\nAs noted, Washington felt that London's attitude was not motivated wholly or solely by humanitarian considerations. Thus, in the summer of 1849, Jamaican planters met to complain about competition from slave grown sugar and other crops in light of the \"continuation and great increase of the foreign slave trade.\" Brazil was mentioned specifically as providing unfair competition, thus motivating London to crack-down on the slave trade there\u2014which brought the U.K. into conflict with U.S. slavers.\n\nThe Foreign Office in London was told that \"this anti-slave trade movement is now rapidly extending itself over the whole of this island. The Kingston Petitions bear a list of signatures far exceeding the numbers which have been attached to any petition on any subject which has ever been addressed to Parliament from Jamaica.\" London found it difficult to ignore this pressure from its rich colony and, correspondingly, had to pressure those vessels\u2014many of them bearing U.S. flags\u2014that were bringing enslaved Africans to the shores of its competitors, particularly Brazil. But what was complicating things for these antagonists of U.S. slavers and their transoceanic allies was that there were those who were sharply disagreeing with these Jamaican planters. At Maryland's 1864 Constitutional Convention, one debater argued passionately that \"the world furnishes no instances of these products being grown upon a large scale by free labor. The English now acknowledge their failure,\" while \"Brazil, whose slave population nearly equals our own, is the only South American state which has prospered.\"\n\nCongressman J. B. Clary of Kentucky expressed the sentiments of many when he denounced what he saw as London's hypocrisy in seeking to curtail the African Slave Trade. \"It is a fact not known to everyone,\" he declared, \"that for every slave taken by a British cruiser she receives. . . . 5 [pounds] or about twenty four dollars. . . . the slave ships are taken either to Sierra Leone or St. Helena and the slaves . . . are re-shipped on board of British transports and sent to Demerara, Berbice and her West India islands and apprenticed.\" Where was the humanity in that, he wondered.\n\nHumanity, indeed, countered advocates of the British Empire. There increasing doubt was being expressed about the \"most abject and hazardous dependence upon the Slave States of America,\" not least since \"England's demand for slave grown cotton\" was \"the secret of American slavery.\" There was an alternative, however: \"cotton,\" it was said in 1858, \" _can_ be grown on the banks of the Indus, by _free labor,_ at a less cost, and with a greater profit, than it can be in New Orleans or Mobile or Arkansas\" [emphasis-original]. With mercantilist confidence it was announced that \"one 10 [pound] note invested in the 'East India Cotton Company' will do more to put an end to the slave trade . . . than double that sum contributed as a mere donation to an 'anti-slavery society.'\" \"So long as cotton is selling for 500 dollars a bale and Negroes are worth from 1000 to 1500 dollars, all the preaching, and all the entreaty, and all the schemes for the emancipation of the American slave, will be as fruitless as 'the whistling wind' . . . as soon as cotton is grown in sufficient quantities, and at a fair profit, on the banks of the Indus . . . by free adult labor, that moment the 'slavery of the South' will cease to be either a necessity or an expediencey [ _sic_ ] and _America will be free_!\" [emphasis-original].\n\nThe walls were closing in on the Slave South. Anger was turning to hostility in the U.S. itself as the overflow from the flood of Africans brought to Cuba were arriving in the southern states, providing a wretched picture of inhumanity, while Britain was openly considering reducing sharply its dependence on southern crops, thereby jeopardizing potentially millions in investments. In that context, secession, and a lurch toward closer union with Brazil, seemed less like desperation and more like self-preservation.\n\nThere was pressure of a different sort emerging from Jamaica's neighbor, Haiti. David Brion Davis acknowledges that \"the destruction of slavery in Saint-Domingue gave an immense stimulus to plantation slavery from neighboring Cuba to far-off Brazil\" and, by implication, to the African Slave Trade as well. Though the scholar David Geggus has \"seen no evidence to suggest the Haitian Revolution was invoked by leaders of the Male Revolt\" in Bahia, he does acknowledge this hemispheric\u2014and, in fact, global\u2014reach of this epoch-shattering Caribbean event.\n\nCertainly there was hemispheric apprehension about the potential reach of Haiti's abolitionism, not least in those nations within Spain's sphere of influence, just as the planters of Kingston were forced to consider the implications of slave unrest in Puerto Rico and Venezuela's move toward abolition was influenced profoundly by Port au Prince. Madrid's representative in Washington kept a close eye on abolitionism in the U.S., wary of its implications for Cuba and Puerto Rico, just as it monitored carefully developments in Haiti, constantly sensitive to the implications for \"race\" and slavery. Though the number of Africans in the Argentine was considerably less than that of Brazil, there too close attention was paid to developments in Haiti and slavery in the U.S. And just as there were imaginings in the U.S. about shipping certain Africans en masse to Liberia, similar ideas had arisen at the same time in Brazil.\n\nThe point is that those who profited from slavery and the slave trade were aware that the existence of this system was not wholly dependent upon domestic events or occurrences in one nation, just as in the late 20th century apartheid rulers realized that the continuation of their system was not unconnected to the fate of Jim Crow. In a similar fashion, the fate of slavery in the hemisphere was heavily dependent on the destiny of this institution in the Slave South\u2014and Brazil. Actually, even those who abjured slavery and the slave trade too had to contend with the stiff competition provided by a nation that deployed laborers who received no wages.\n\nIn certain precincts of the Slave South, denizens realized that their collective fate was linked with that of Brazil. \"We have common interests and sympathies with the people of Brazil and Cuba,\" said one Charleston publicist in 1847, who was worried that \"our relations\" with these slave states were \"threatened to be disturbed by\" abolitionism. Even at this early date it seemed that the U.S. South felt it held more shared aims with its hemispheric neighbors than the U.S. North, arguing repetitively, \"we have common interests and sympathies with the people of Brazil and Cuba\" and need to make \"more intimate the connection between the ports of the United States in Cuba and Brazil. . . . we afford remunerating markets for coffee, sugar, cocoa . . . and . . . New Orleans, Savannah, Charleston, Norfolk and Baltimore are much nearer to the great West, than are Philadelphia, New York or Boston\"\u2014not least since they were closer to Rio de Janeiro. The \"slaves and other property\" of Brazil and Cuba would \"in our harbors be secure from abolitionists and other plunderers and that most if not all of the staples of our country can be supplied [to] them on as favorable terms as any others.\" Seemingly moving toward secession at this early date, \"southern\"\u2014not U.S.\u2014\"commercial agencies at Havana and Rio de Janeiro\" were demanded.\n\nA few years later concern was raised that \"when Cuba and Brazil are annexed\" to the U.S., the \"clamor in favor of continuing the traffic, which already exists in those countries, would be irresistible.\" Already, the \"slave traders have a party in Congress and that they rank distinguished Northern Senators, as well as Southern, among their leaders,\" which made this merger of slave empires well-nigh inevitable. Minimally, it seemed that the Slave Power was seeking \"an alliance, offensive and defensive with Brazil,\" which could overwhelm any hemispheric abolitionist objections. \"It was predicted twenty years ago,\" said one prominent mainstream newspaper in 1854, \"that if the [Slave Power] got Texas, it would not stop until it reached Brazil.\" In reaction that same year to the Kansas-Nebraska Act, Congressmen Solomon Foot of Vermont, Daniel Mace of Indiana, and Reuben E. Fenton of New York signed a statement that declared this legislation was \"'to be followed up by an alliance with Brazil and the extension of slavery in the valley of the Amazon.'\" An antebellum Southerner advocated a \"'treaty of commerce and alliance with Brazil'\" which would \"'give us the control over the Gulf of Mexico and its border countries, together with the islands; and the consequence of this will place African slavery beyond the reach of fanaticism at home or abroad. These two great powers . . . ought to guard and strengthen their mutual interests. . . . we can not only preserve domestic servitude but we can defy the power of the world.'\"\n\nEven before the Civil War erupted, perceptive analysts had realized that the North's evident advantages in population and industrial plants could be neutralized, if not overwhelmed, by hemispheric alliances that focused on a nation, Brazil, that was larger in territory than the U.S. and contained many more enslaved Africans.\n\nThis attitude in Brazil had been nurtured by the U.S. Minister to Brazil at the time of secession. In presenting his credentials before this ominous moment, Richard K. Meade \"in a memorable speech expressed his hope that the two nations\"\u2014the U.S. and Brazil\u2014\"might be brought into the closest alliance. The special motive he assigned, was that the two great slave-holding nations of America needed to combine to resist the anti-slavery pressure of the rest of the world.\" Secession was not just an event but a process and even before the firing on Fort Sumter, many white Southerners in the employ of Washington were laying the groundwork and busily preparing for the advent of the CSA. Certainly this could be said of Meade who in his pointed remarks asked Brazilian elites what would be the \"influence of our extinction of slavery upon the institution in Brazil?\" Brazilian \"slavery,\" he declared, \"has found the same incentive in coffee to strengthen and perpetuate itself that our own institution did in cotton.\" Brazil, he proclaimed, was \"more like the United States than any other nation in the world.\"\n\nLater, R. C. Parsons of Cleveland, who arrived in Rio de Janeiro just after Meade had departed, in order to lead the U.S. diplomatic corps, blasted this \"doughty fire-eater from Old Virginia,\" whose activities seemed to \"reveal that a persistent effort was then made to induce Brazil, at that early day, to look forward to a time when the 'great rebellion' should be consummated.\" Meade's son, Richard Kidder Meade, Jr., had been part of the assault on Fort Sumter, which was viewed as more than coincidence. Meade, Sr. was a \"well-known politician of the extremist Calhoun school\" and as early as 1849 was \"openly charged . . . on the floor of Congress . . . with entertaining disunion sentiments and cherishing disunion projects.\" He was a firm advocate of a \"grand Pro-Slavery alliance with the Brazilian Empire.\" Sending him as Minister to Brazil was not just a boost to the nascent Confederacy, it revealed a stunning naivete on behalf of Washington, akin to appointing Benedict Arnold to be Ambassador to the Court of St. James.\n\nAs late as July 1861, Meade was having discussions with the Emperor\u2014while he was serving as Washington's emissary\u2014about CSA prospects. He opined that the war \"would perhaps last twenty years\"; the \"Emperor expressed the kindest feelings of friendship toward Mr. Meade but made no remarks indicative of his views and feelings in regard to the state of our country, to which allusion had been made.\"\n\nMeade's successor, James Watson Webb, was no abolitionist, far from it, yet even he was outraged by Meade's behavior. This Confederate \"asked me in London,\" said Webb, \"for a letter of introduction to the President, assuring me that, although a southern man, he had faithfully discharged the whole duty to the Union. This turns out to have been a deliberate misrepresentation.\" For while in Rio as \"Minister he was openly and offensively a secessionist and traitor and did all in his power to bring the government of our country into disrepute.\" He was not alone. \"Robert G. Scott\" the \"late Consul\" in Rio was also \"an open-mouthed traitor and a loud-talker.\" Webb's abrupt replacement of Meade put the Emperor on the spot; he said he would \"be embarrassed in making a reply and equally embarrassed in not replying to what I said in condemnation of slavery\" if Webb were to refute Meade's earlier words. \"He begged, therefore, that I would not insist upon the exercise of the right to reply publicly. . . . it would relieve the Emperor of all difficulty in regard to the question of slavery, and which is already making itself felt in the phases of party here,\" suggesting how conflict in the U.S. was rippling outward.\n\nStill, this contemplation of Brazil was a matter for all sides. At the 1864 Constitutional Convention in Maryland, which was rocked with debate about what Emancipation might entail, one delegate sought to reassure with copious references to the Brazilian experience and how this nation exemplified what the dark-skinned could accomplish. Abolitionists argued that \"even . . . Brazil with her four million [ _sic_ ] slave gives the free-born colored man and the emancipated slave equal privileges with others, and opens to him every avenue to wealth and fame,\" while in July 1860, this same nation was viewed as a negative example by an advocate of human bondage. This nation's alleged predilection toward \"amalgamation\" means that if an \"insurrection\" occurred, \"'the whites will be sure to suffer from the savage rapacity of the mixed races, especially those who have African blood in them.'\" \"'Aversion to hybridity, then, is the safeguard of the people.'\" That the African \"enjoys not only the same social but the same political rights as any of the natives of the country\" was seen as lunacy and a \"fictitious show of civilization.\" President James Buchanan, perhaps, had the final word in this discourse that looked to Brazil for insight into festering internal tensions within the U.S., when he argued that the North had no more cause to interfere in slavery in the South as they had to do the same in \"Russia or Brazil.\"\n\nIn mid-1860, London thought that little had changed since the mid-1850s in Brazil, in that there were \"not only no cases, but even no suspicions\" of slaving. But it was not as if a wave of abolitionism had washed over South America. Instead the Civil War heightened fears in the hemisphere about slavery's fate. For by December 1861, the **Charleston Mercury** was chortling that \"Brazilians [were] sympathizing almost to a man with the secessionists, under the impression that the South was fighting the battle of Brazil\u2014fighting to protect their property in slaves\" for there was a nagging fear that \"if the North had abolished slavery in the Southern States, she would turn her attention to abolishing slavery in the Brazil Empire.\" Thus, said the **New York Times,** speaking of Rio de Janeiro, \"perhaps in no place or in any other foreign country has the effects of the rebellion . . . been so much felt as in this port.\" Indeed, said this periodical in words thought sufficiently worthy to be retained by the Brazilian Foreign Ministry, \"in the good years before the war we took from $22,000,000 to $25,000,000 worth of Brazilian products annually and sent to Brazil sometimes between $6,000,000 and $7,000,000 a year.\"\n\nThe South Carolinian who penned the above words of warning may have pricked up his ears if he had heard another kind of warning emanating at that moment from Brazil. A Brazilian senator was demanding the reduction of the numbers of slaves in large cities and an increase in farming areas and checking the ongoing deportation of slaves from north to south, which was mimicking similar antebellum trends in the U.S., for \"was it the case, gentlemen,\" he argued, \"that when some years ago in the United States the Northern states abolished slavery and it remained in the Southern States, the industrial interests of the Southern States became entirely opposed to those of the Northern? Was it not after the creation and growth of diversity of interests that the explosion took place which has not yet terminated?\"\n\nProfit-hungry slave traders had accelerated the hunting and seizing of Africans in the run-up to the ascension to power of the Republican Party in 1860. After that, with Civil War on the horizon and the allure of handsomely easy profits to be made and stashed away for the foreseeable stormy day, this foul enterprise accelerated further. The African Squadron, inept in the best of times and hardly present in East Africa, in any case, had to become more concerned with CSA privateers raiding U.S. commerce or bombarding north of Baltimore. The U.K. remained on duty but some British elites were not necessarily displeased with the prospect of a CSA victory that could reduce sharply the power of the behemoth that had arisen in North America. Late in 1862, for example, the U.S. Consul in Pernambuco observed that \"the British residents on this coast, both official and private are noted for their sympathy with the rebellious part of our people,\" referring to the CSA. Then there was a powerful \"Copperhead\" element in the U.S. Northeast that had refused to accept the demise of the African Slave Trade, even when rebels assaulted Fort Sumter in early 1861.\n\nAs secessionists began moving relentlessly toward a conflict that many saw as giving a new birth of freedom to the African Slave Trade, it was reported from West Africa that out of 36 slave vessels recently detected, \"29\" were \"under the American flag alone\" with six being Spanish; \"and as the [U.S.] squadron find there is no use in detaining vessels unless they have slaves on board, although they may be otherwise fully equipped, the difficulty in successfully checking this illegal traffic is at once apparent.\" The valley of the Congo River down to Luanda tended to \"contribute the greatest number of slaves\" and \"American [slave] vessels fitted as whalers\" continued to be active.\n\nThus, by July 1861, the Royal Navy's reports sounded as if they could have been written in 1858. The \"slave trade is at present carried on almost entirely under the American ensign,\" it was said. The \"Congo is, without doubt, the center of the Slave Trade in this part of the coast . . . the value of the slave being only twenty-five dollars on this part of the station; while it is eighty dollars in the Bights\"\u2014this was \"no doubt the reason why slave-vessels generally come to the South Coast.\" This trade reached to Luanda, though it was doubted if it took place south of there. Though a Civil War ostensibly over slavery was raging, the refrain had not changed: \"as vessels engaged in the Slave Trade almost invariably fly the American flag and our cruisers are prohibited from in any way interfering with them, of course we are to a very serious extent powerless in putting a check to the Slave Trade.\"\n\nBy October 1861, the words from the South Coast seemed even more desperately inflamed. Britain's representatives asserted that \"at no period since the establishment of this Commission has the Traffic in Slaves been carried on with greater activity or daring on this part of the coast than during the past year. . . . not less than 6000 slaves have been shipped from the immediate neighborhood of the Congo during the past five months\" with \"all wearing the American flag.\" With U.S. monitoring reduced as a result of Civil War, \"the slave dealers in the Congo are already exulting in the impunity\" resulting.\n\nIn the early stages of the Civil War, the U.S. was seeking to detain slavers, which was wise given that the enormous profits from such ventures could only buoy opponents of the Union's ultimate objectives. Yet soon London had \"with great regret to report . . . the retirement from the West Coast of Africa of the United States's ships of war\" that had been off the coast of northern Angola and at the mouth of the Congo River basin; this placed \"additional pressure\" on the already besieged Royal Navy. This was a boon to slave dealers. Shortly after this U.S. departure, Secretary of State William Seward was informed that Brazil\u2014which some slave traders continued to lust after as a recipient for their human cargoes\u2014\"from its location and sympathies, is destined to supply and furnish ports of security for the privateers of the Southern States.\" That same year Lord Lyons in Washington observed that \"Mr. Seward came to see me\" and \"asked me to let him speak to me very confidentially.\" Naturally, Lyons immediately reported this conversation to London, as the Secretary of State \"went on to express great apprehension lest _any_ Power should recognize the Southern Confederacy. He seemed even to feel alarm lest Brazil or Peru should do so. In fact, the immediate object of his visit appeared to be to endeavour to ascertain through me whether there could be any truth in private information which had reached him that Brazil had determined already to recognize the new Confederacy. Brazil, he said, might perhaps be led to do so by community of feeling on Slavery\" [emphasis-original].\n\nIn a veritable response, it was not long before there was the \"arrival . . . of the American barque 'J. J. Cobb'\" in Luanda, which had \"been notoriously employed in the Traffic in Slaves between this coast and Cuba during the last two years.\" Reflecting confidence that either the CSA would prevail or that North American flagged vessels were exempt from international treaty obligations or that even a Washington victory would bring no end to slavery, North American flagged slavers continued to descend on Africa even as the Civil War raged. Commodore Edmonstone of the Royal Navy reported in November 1861 that \"the Slave Trade is now, with a few exceptions, entirely carried on under the cover of the American flag.\" The \"withdrawal of the United States Squadron gives additional facility to the slaver,\" it was said, \"they have nothing to dread.\" Now the \"Spanish slave trade to the Havana will be carried on under the American flag more freely and with less risk than ever.\"\n\nNathaniel Gordon was raised in a relatively prosperous home in Portland, Maine; it was one of the older residences in this eponymous port city, built in 1740, reflecting the stolid economy of this Northern metropolis that came to benefit from the African Slave Trade. It was a three-story building, one of the largest square-roofed houses of its day and at the time it was built it was called one of the finest in the city, with three chimneys, an abundance of large, deep fireplaces with beautifully carved mantles of mahogany and rosewood. The finish was remarkably fine, reflecting the refinement of Gordon himself who was a \"companionable boy of likeable ways and much charm of personality\"\u2014even then he was considered a leader. \"Quick to learn, he was a keen observer\" and early on could hardly ignore \"stories of rich silks and jewels, of gold cups and vases found in the house on York Street.\"\n\nSo moved, it was not long before he followed his home state's traditions and became a successful slaver with a dark reputation, a veteran of slave smuggling runs to Cuba and Brazil. In 1853, Gordon landed 500 enslaved Africans near Rio de Janeiro, then burned his ship to escape capture. Early in the morning of 8 August 1860 he \"sailed from the Congo.\" He had a cargo of liquor on board, along with 890 Africans, of which 172 were men, 106 were women, and the rest were boys and girls. He was on his way to offload his human cargo in Cuba when he was detained. His captives were taken to Liberia and Gordon was returned to his homeland to stand trial for violating laws barring the slave trade.\n\nGordon was indicted in New York City on 29 October 1860 on the charge of \"detaining Negroes with intent to make them slaves\" and arraigned on 2 November. \"With force and arms in the River Congo on the coast of Africa,\" Gordon \"did piratically and feloniously, forcibly confine and detain eight hundred Negroes . . . names . . . unknown.\" Gordon had good reason to think that despite being caught with hundreds of Africans in hand, he was in a city that was congenial to his offense, so\u2014at least it was thought\u2014he pursued a strategy of delay. His lawyers moved to quash the indictment on 24 December and by June a jury was assigned. By 30 November 1861, the trial opened\u2014but by that time opinions about slave traders had soured, even in Manhattan where they had flourished not so long ago. If Gordon had been scouring the local press, he might have noticed that just before his trial commenced, the U.S. District Attorney in this city had just \"secured another condemnation of a vessel for fitting and with intention to proceed upon a slave voyage.\"\n\nAnxieties were rising as the trial approached. New York, a stronghold of the African Slave Trade, was becoming suffused with the sentiment that this Civil War and the sacrifice it entailed was being done to assist despised U.S. Negroes; thus, as Gordon's fate was being decided, \"innocent Negroes\" were \"hanged to lamp-posts by a New York mob.\"\n\nE. Delafield Smith, the District Attorney, declared that Gordon \"had been in custody for a long period of time, with no apparent effort to prepare the case for trial. Indeed, my eminent predecessor had declared in open court last winter that in his judgment, public opinion would not justify a capital conviction.\" When the U.S. Navy man who detained Gordon defected to the Confederacy, this opinion was bolstered. Gordon's \"counsel had personal friends of his own German Jewish faith on the jury,\" which was worrisome to the prosecution. Reacting defensively, they \"labored to separate the case from all questions as to slavery or slavery extension in this country.\" Apparently the tactic worked, as \"the jury were out thirty minutes and returned with an honest verdict of guilty.\" Still, \"the effect\" in New York was \"never paralleled by that of any criminal conviction in either the state or U.S. courts. Persons crowded into my office the following morning and asked if it was really so. As Gordon\" was \"an old offender, having been previously on two of these slave voyages,\" the prosecution was loath to be lenient with him, not least since the \"cruelty exhibited by the evidence in these cases surpasses the common belief in respect to the atrocities of this trade.\" The prosecutor was \"sorry\" for Gordon but, it was added, \"he should think of the agonies of the dying in his ship's hold.\" These words were written carefully, as the prosecution was desirous that \"this letter should be read\" to President Lincoln himself.\n\nGordon sat impassively in the courtroom as a key witness \"presented a heart-rending account of the wailing despair of human beings packed like cattle in the quarters below\" deck and when the verdict was returned, he again did not flinch, receiving \"the news with no change in the ice-hard cruelty of his eyes.\" This reflected the fact that Gordon continued to have reason to believe that he would not receive severe punishment, even when convicted. \"The slave trading interests\" had \"left no stone unturned to procure a pardon for him\" to the point where the morning \"of the scheduled day for the hanging, an informer sped to the District Attorney's office with word that a rescue mob was forming to storm the jail and free the prisoner.\" Finally breaking down, Gordon sought to poison himself, as strychnine was smuggled into his jail cell with cigars apparently. Now a \"raving maniac\" he was \"pinned to the floor by two husky guards while Dr. Simmons, the prison physician, endeavored to use a stomach pump on him.\" Gordon was unable to escape the \"dubious distinction of being the first man to be hanged for slave running.\"\n\nStill, his death did not pass uncontested. A \"well of sympathy\" for him emerged. \"The newspapers described the tearful scene when he saw his wife [and] family for the last time.\" Britain's Consul in New York, took note of his death, observing that despite \"the most strenuous efforts on the part of his friends, aided doubtless by the pecuniary influence of the slave trading interest in this city,\" Gordon was executed, though a \"general impression prevailed to the last moment that the sentence would not be carried into effect.\" Gordon's words as the smuggled poison worked its destruction on his body\u2014\"'I've cheated you! I've cheated you!'\"\u2014stood as a compelling verbal metaphor for though his life was taken, the life of the African Slave Trade survived his passing.\n\nFor just as Gordon was entering the courtroom, \"300 slaves had been shipped on board an American schooner at Whydah [West Africa]. . . . several American vessels had arrived with rum and tobacco which it was expected would all return with slaves. Most of these vessels are from Salem and Boston. The Slave [Trade] has been in such a flourishing condition for years,\" it was reported, \"and is principally carried on by Americans from the Northern States.\" The African Slave Trade had attained sufficient momentum that London worried that even if Gordon's execution presaged a crackdown in the U.S. Northeast, slaving interests would simply move to \"Liverpool . . . Cadiz, Barcelona and Marseilles,\" just as earlier they had relocated their exports from Brazil to Cuba and points northward. What may have motivated this concern was the case of a vessel \"fitted out in Lisbon for the slave trade\" that had arrived from New York; it was suspected that the detainees did \"intend hereafter to make Lisbon and Cadiz the base of their operations instead of New York.\" The problem was \"the selling of an American vessel in a foreign port to be there fitted out for the slave trade is not forbidden by law.\" Weeks after Gordon's execution, Secretary of State Seward announced that \"the schooner William L. Coggeswell was recently seized at Lisbon by order of Mr. Harvey the United States Minister there upon suspicion by him supposed to be well founded that she had been fitted out for the purpose of prosecuting the African slave trade.\" Moreover, there were searching allegations, frequently asserted, that there was \"corruption\" and collusion between the federal authorities and the slaving interests in New York that a mere Civil War had not squashed.\n\nCertainly there was no immediate deterrent effect attached to Gordon's incarceration, for after he was jailed, \"the ship 'Nightingale'\" arrived in New York from \"the west coast of Africa . . . having been captured with 935 Negroes on board.\" The culprits included Samuel B. Haynes, Bradley Winslow, and Minthone Westervelt\u2014the latter born in Staten Island of a \"well-known family,\" while Haynes\u2014like Gordon\u2014hailed from Maine. Domingo Martinez, a notorious \"Brazilian slave dealer\" who resided at \"Whydah,\" did not seem to be deterred by what had had happened to Gordon. He was reported to carry on the \"Slave Trade extensively with Cuba and the United States; he [was] also engaged in commerce with Brazil, chiefly with Bahia.\" In fact, new areas of slave hunting seemed to be opening up, especially in East Africa, which in recent years had zoomed in importance as a site for obtaining human cargoes. By September 1862, British sources in South Africa were observing that \"American slave vessels are now in the practice of proceeding to some of the west ports of Madagascar for their cargoes, which places are beyond the limits laid down in the treaty and therefore it can be evaded by them with impunity. The ports alluded to are independent of the King of that island, and the slaves are conveyed thither in native vessels from the East Coast of Africa, to be shipped off as opportunities offer.\" That same year U.S. slavers were said to be operating near the tiny Caribbean island of Anguilla, though it was unclear if Africans from Madagascar were arriving in that vicinity. Still, by May 1862, the U.S. Attorney in New York City reported six recent or ongoing prosecutions for slave trading.\n\nIf there had been another city that could have challenged Rio's title of chief CSA sympathizer, it might have been Lisbon or Oporto. Recently naturalized U.S. citizens who only quite recently had resided in Portugal had been instrumental in perpetuating the African Slave Trade from their base of operations in New York City, New Bedford, and other Northeast locales and when it seemed that the Civil War was leading to more scrutiny of their activity, some of them began to move across the Atlantic to the land of their birth, where they resumed their slaving with a renewed gusto.\n\nIt would take more than litigation to bring the African Slave Trade to heel for it had already begun to metastasize and assume new forms. In early 1862, reports from Luanda indicated that \"upwards of 2000 Negroes have been conveyed hence to St. Thomas since the 1st of January of the past year. . . . these Africans\u2014who are the rudest and most unenlightened,\" according to a Portuguese official, were \"recently brought in from the interior\" but were deemed not to be slaves but servants. From that island, long a major entrepot for the slave trade\u2014a kind of West African version of Zanzibar\u2014they could \"emigrate\" across the Atlantic.\n\nThis thought had occurred to at least one official in Lisbon. Such a practice \"must have the effect of stimulating the slave trade in the interior of Africa,\" it was asserted. \"Portuguese subjects are largely engaged in the slave trade\" and \"Portuguese authorities connive at it, if they do not actually participate in that traffic,\" it was conceded honestly and this was just one more example. In boldly raising a point that had been obvious for decades if not centuries, one can sense the impact of the Civil War on the fate of the African Slave Trade: for even before it became clear that this would become a war of abolition, it was apparent that it might become so and that this transformation would then bring Washington in league with London to crush the recalcitrant and intractable, a category that had long claimed Lisbon. Concern in this sleepy capital began to be expressed about the \"extent to which the traffic in slaves is now suffered to be carried on directly or indirectly in His Majesty's African dominions, owing to a want of due care and energy on the part of the local authorities.\" It was discovered suddenly in early 1862 that \"great facilities have been afforded to the operations of the Slave Trade in the vicinity of the River Congo by the numerous small craft employed in the coasting trade . . . sailing under the Portuguese flag and provided with official papers of the Government of Angola,\" not to mention those transported \"from the River Gaboon [ _sic_ ] and adjacent parts of the continent.\"\n\nPortugal, a relatively small nation with an outsized colonial empire based disproportionately in the rich slave-hunting grounds of Angola and Mozambique, knew that if the Slave South lost the Civil War, Lisbon could possibly suffer more than a Mississippi slaveholder. In the early stages of secession, Portugal \"received communications from some of the Vice Consuls in southern states asking if they could clear vessels as heretofore\"; their emissary in the U.S. was cautious, noting that CSA \"sovereignty\" was \"not recognized by\" the \"King of Portugal.\" Again\u2014like Spain\u2014an ideological soul-mate that the CSA might have thought would stand resolutely by her side, Portugal instead was hedging its bets.\n\nRobert dos Santos, Vice Consul in Norfolk, was not happy with this. He had \"[tried] to keep neutral in the present deplorable war,\" he lamented in the summer of 1862, though he admitted that \"of course, I can't help sympathizing with the South as I was born here and as I believe that her cause is a just one.\" Despite this, he also admitted, \"I have taken no part in the war,\" though he had a \"brother who has been an officer in the Confederate Army.\" He felt oppressed by the U.S. authorities, however, they had \"not molested\" him because of his brother but insisted that \"the Portuguese flag which flies over my property will not be respected\" and that \"unless\" he took an \"oath of allegiance to the northern Government that not only will they confiscate my property but I will be required to withdraw beyond their lines.\" He was adamant in refusal\u2014\"The oath of allegiance I will never under any circumstances take. I am a citizen of Virginia and go with her wherever she goes.\" He requested a \"copy of the treaty between the U.S. & Portugal\" in search of legal validation of her parlous position. He may have been luckier than his counterpart, Joaquim de Palma, Portugal's Vice Consul in Savannah; both \"he and his family suffered when the federal army under the command of General Sherman passed through Winnsboro in the state of South Carolina where he had removed his family and effects.\" A sign of the times was the claim that a \"fire\" that had led to de Palma's setback was \"the work of a Negro woman residing in the village.\" Also telling was when the State Department claimed that they had never recognized da Palma's diplomatic status, indicative of how Lisbon had inserted its nationals throughout the nation, who then proceeded to engage at times in slave dealing.\n\nPortuguese and Portuguese-Americans, whose slave trading activity and other nefarious activities had been overlooked, now found themselves targeted. A. M. da Cunha, who moonlighted as Portugal's Consul in New York, theretofore a lucrative site for transoceanic slave-dealing, complained that his vessel that had \"recently arrived from Havana\" was \"sold without my consent.\" Then the now chastened diplomat cum businessman was \"informed\" and \"received instructions not to permit the clearance of any Portuguese vessel from the port\" of New York \"without receiving special permission from Washington and that these instructions apply to vessels of no other country than Portugal\"\u2014in earnest of their instrumental role in slaving, a role that had been virtually ignored until Washington concluded that those backing a treasonous rebellion and the resultant dissolution of the U.S. might be the ultimate beneficiary of this traffic.\n\nFinally getting wise, Washington was beginning to squeeze a major generator of the irrepressible conflict\u2014Portugal\u2014and as the prospect began to shrivel for the kind of large-scale slaving that this nation and some Portuguese-Americans had engaged in from the U.S. Northeast and New Orleans, shrinking along with it was the idea that a Confederacy could survive whose secession had been driven in no small part by slave traders. Blandly though pointedly, Secretary of State William Seward informed Lisbon's representative that \"with a view to avoid obvious uncertainties and inconveniences, it is deemed indispensable that this Department should be promptly apprised of any appointment of Consular Officers of Foreign Powers in the United States\"; he added, almost offhandedly, \"information whether the person appointed is a citizen of the United States or a subject of the Government who may appoint him is also desirable.\" Portugal continued appointing emissaries, taking pains to have them in New Bedford and Bangor, theretofore headquarters for illegal slaving.\n\nWashington was smart to be suspicious of Lisbon and its activities in North America. Portugal's Consul in New York claimed, for example, that \"several poor and uneducated subjects of Portugal residing\" in the major slave smuggling center that was Galveston, had been subjected to \"forced enlistment into the military service of the so-styled Confederate States.\" U.S. patriots were not so sure about the compulsion involved.\n\nBetter late than never. Cutting off Portugal's oxygen supply to the CSA was a major step on the road to curtailing the African Slave Trade, particularly the role in it of U.S. nationals and nationals of Portuguese ancestry. In the 1850s the illicit slave trade to Brazil was curbed, then it was pushed northward to the doorstep of the U.S. where it was squelched. However, this, ironically, gave a new boost to the idea of Matthew Maury of sending U.S. Negroes en masse to the Valley of the Amazon.\n\n## **9  \nDeport U.S. Negroes to Brazil?**\n\nThe Civil War delivered a forceful blow to the solar plexus of the illicit slave trade and transnational slavery itself. Yet the continuation of slavery in Brazil and the unresolved status of U.S. Negroes seemed to lead some to conclude that deporting the latter to the Valley of the Amazon would make for a serendipitous confluence. Brazil, which was quite friendly to the so-called Confederate States of America, was less welcoming to the prospect of opening its doors to a stream of dark-skinned people.\n\nJames Watson Webb, who served as U.S. Minister to Brazil during the Civil War, was no abolitionist, a point recognized by his comrades. \"One fourth\" of abolitionists were \"fanatics,\" thought Webb, and \"three fourths\" were \"knaves\" [emphasis-original]. The influential politician from Maine, Hannibal Hamlin, had to remind Webb during his tenure as Brazilian Minister, that it was \"supreme nonsense to contend that property in slaves, whether in the person or the service has any special immunity, over any other property.\"\n\nA man of action as well as words, on the evening of 1 October 1833, a group of active colonizationists and their sympathizers\u2014who thought that free Negroes would be better off in Africa\u2014met in Webb's office. Then he was the 31-year-old feisty editor of New York City's influential, pro-Whig Party \"'Courier and Enquirer.' There they planned to pose as 'friends of immediate abolition in the United States' and invade the initial meeting of the New York City Anti-Slavery Society.\" That evening 1500 showed up \"yelling for the blood of Arthur Tappan and [William Lloyd] Garrison.\" Webb, \"an ardent Episcopalian\" and \"former Army officer,\" was also a \"key figure in the October mob and the North's most vehement anti-abolitionist spokesman to support African colonization.\" Webb was also an ardent \"racist,\" who \"denounced the abolitionists\" with full-throated fervor. \"In common with many other northerners, Webb believed that abolition was more dangerous than slavery\" and also thought that \"colonization of slaves in Africa was the only practical remedy to slavery.\" A full spectrum bigot, \"anti-Semitism\" also \"crept into Webb's crusade.\" Webb also concurred with Deep South leaders approving \"anything that Congress could do to stop the antislavery agitation.\"\n\nIt was Webb who, on July 4, 1834, \"published a list of the activities scheduled for the holiday that included an announcement that 'at eleven, the fanatics meet at Chatham-Street Chapel, to have their zeal inflamed by the doctrines of abolition and amalgamation . . . ' Webb felt he could light a match to an already smoldering hostility toward the abolitionists. He was right. A mob broke into the chapel just as abolitionist Lewis Tappan finished reading the American Anti-Slavery Society's Declaration of Sentiments to a racially mixed audience. . . . one of the worst riots of the decade followed, lasting a total of eleven days. Mobs proceeded to break up other integrated abolitionist meetings with their menacing haunts.\"\n\nWith such a background, it should not be deemed surprising that Webb would promote enthusiastically the notion of deporting U.S. Negroes to Brazil, even as this group was sacrificing tremendously to ensure the survival of the government\u2014Webb's government\u2014that was seeking to dispatch them southward. The contemporary historian, Lerone Bennett, has stirred controversy by ascribing this plan to Webb's superior\u2014the President, Abraham Lincoln. After all, Bennett suggests, \"in five major policy declarations, including two State of the Union addresses and the preliminary Emancipation Proclamation, the sixteenth President of the United States publicly and officially called for the deportation of Blacks. On countless other occasions, in conferences with cronies, Democratic and Republican leaders and high government officials, he called for colonization of Blacks or aggressively promoted colonization, by private and official acts.\" In 1862, says Bennett, \"largely at President Lincoln's urging, Congress appropriated $600,000 a sum desperately needed . . . to prosecute the war\" in order to \"begin the colonization process.\" According to Navy Secretary, Gideon Welles, \"'almost from the commencement of this administration . . . the subject of deporting the colored race has been discussed.'\" Lincoln asserted that \"'room in South America for colonization can be obtained cheaply, and in abundance; and when numbers shall be large enough to be company and encouragement for one another, the freed people will not be so reluctant to go.'\" The President created a \"Black emigration department without giving it that name,\" to deport Negroes. \"The President and all members of the cabinet, with the exception of Secretary [Gideon] Welles and Secretary [Salmon] Chase, were in favor of deportation, according to firsthand reports.\" In 1862 on the front page of the **New York Tribune,** the President discussed sending Negroes south of the border.\n\nBut Bennett, the historian, has paid insufficient attention to how the international situation influenced Lincoln's decision to assert the Emancipation Proclamation and compel his retreat from mass deportation of Negroes. For in mid-September 1862, the President told a \"delegation of Chicago clergy in mid-September that 'to proclaim emancipation would secure the sympathy of Europe . . . which now saw no other reason for the strife than national pride and ambition [and] an unwillingness to abridge our domain and ambition. No other step would be as potent to prevent foreign intervention,'\" he declared cogently. A Lincoln successor\u2014Woodrow Wilson\u2014acknowledged years later that the 16th President hoped the Proclamation would \"'imperatively prevent that foreign recognition of the Southern Confederacy which he dreaded.'\"\n\nLincoln, though opposing the war against Mexico, was something of a novice in foreign policy. Rudolph Schleiden, Minister from Bremen, recorded that the President had told him that \"'I don't know anything about diplomacy. I will be very apt to make blunders.'\" Yet he did know enough about this hugely important subject to tread carefully when it came to the question of enslavement of Africans. He had to be careful for even the Brazilian Foreign Ministry had reason to believe that \"Louis Napoleon\" had a \"secret treaty,\" in 1863, \"either concluded or in progress, with Jefferson Davis, by which the cession of Texas is to be received as an equivalent for recognition and for substantial aid to the rebel Confederacy\"; the \"intrigues of two French consuls in Texas\" determined to \"detach her from the Confederacy and reestablish nominally her independence\" was likewise not exactly hidden from view. Both the U.S. and CSA realized that theirs was a conflict that extended well beyond their own immediate interests and implicated other powers with dedicated interests of their own\u2014ignoring this simple yet profound reality could prove to be fatal. Thus, Washington \"had proposed an international conference to deal with the subject of emancipated slaves who wished to emigrate from the United States, but the plans were abandoned after unfavorable responses from the leading European powers.\" Carl Schurz, U.S. Minister in Madrid, was among those who realized early on that \"'as soon as the war becomes distinctly one for and against slavery, public opinion will be . . . overwhelmingly in our favor.'\"\n\nNevertheless, \"on December 1, 1862 in his second annual message, President Lincoln presented a plan for gradual, compensated emancipation coupled with voluntary expatriation after freedom.\" This was in the face of claims by the Democratic Party that \"used three phrases to sum up the alleged consequences of emancipation: 'racial amalgamation,' 'Africanization of America' and 'Free Negroism.'\" In response \"242 black residents\" of California \"petitioned Congress in 1862 to settle them in a country where their color would not be a badge of degradation. It seemed to be the policy of the state and the nation, they commented, to discourage the increase of persons of color in their midst and to use every legal means to induce those among them to emigrate.\" Nodding their heads in agreement at the idea of ousting U.S. Negroes, \"such dignitaries as Representatives Francis Blair, Jr. from Missouri, Edward Bates from Missouri and Montgomery Blair from Maryland and Senator James Doolittle from Wisconsin\" were \"among the framers of these colonization plans.\" Francis Blair had long been in favor of shipping U.S. Negroes southward, feeling that the \"immense distance\" had weakened Liberia's attraction as a dumping ground. But \"the door is now open in Central America to receive the enfranchised colored race born amongst us,\" he said as early as 1858, as these \"freed blacks hold a place in this country which cannot be maintained.\"\n\nThese plans were so notorious that the Spanish Foreign Ministry got wind of them, noting the words of one member of the \"Select Committee on Emancipation and Colonization\" in 1862 who declared that \"the home for the African must not be within the limits of the present territory of the Union. . . . Hayti and others of the West India islands, Central America and the upper portions of South America and Liberia are all interesting fields on inquiry in relation to the future of the . . . Negroes of the United States.\"\n\nTo be fair, nations shipping huge numbers of their nationals to distant climes was not new, as the example of the poor and the Irish in the U.K. showed. They were dispatched to Australia en masse in the late 18th century and in 1824 London had devised yet another plan, this time \"providing a settlement in South America for a portion of the unemployed poor of Great Britain & Ireland who are desirous of an asylum abroad\"; the authorities made this scheme seem like a treat in that they were to be sent to a region where \"the climate\" was \"similar to that of the South of France.\" As indicated by the apparent ease that Portuguese and other European nationals were gaining U.S. citizenship then plunging into the African Slave Trade, there was a kind of ease of nationality then that seems more compatible with today's \"globalized,\" \"global village\" approach. \"As Thomas Jefferson explained in 1793, 'our citizens are entirely free to divest themselves of that character by emigration . . . and may then become the subjects of another power.'\" Attorney General Jeremiah Black \"forcefully articulated the idea in an official ruling in 1859. He argued that the 'natural right of every free person . . . to leave the country of his birth in good faith and for an honest purpose, the privileging of throwing off his natural allegiance and substituting another allegiance in its place\u2014the general right, in one word, of expatriation, is incontestable.'\" More to the point, the inflammatory North Carolinian, Hinton Helper, had long called for \"the removal of all African-Americans from America.\"\n\nAnd even before the idea had struck Webb, the former U.S. Consul to Buenos Ayres, William H. Edwards, had concluded in 1847 that African labor was the key to developing the Amazon. \"The whole territory is as much superior in every respect to the Valley of the Mississippi, as the Valley of the Mississippi is to that of the Hudson,\" said Edwards. It contained \"an area of 950,000 square miles, nearly half the area of the United States in all its territories.\" But why Negroes for the Amazon? Reflecting a widespread belief, Edwards thought that \"it is only in the early morning and late in the afternoon that white men can labour in the open air; but, where a white would inevitably receive a sun-stroke, a Negro labours with uncovered head without injury or exhaustion. The one has capacity to direct and the other the ability to perform and it is difficult to conceive how the resources of Brazil can ever be successfully developed without a co-operation of the two races.\"\n\nSo it was not totally extraordinary that Lincoln and his Brazilian Minister would be discussing deporting U.S. Negroes as the Civil War raged. The \"establishment of a colony of liberated Negroes on the Amazon was called to the Minister's attention by newspaper accounts of President Lincoln's suggestion in a message to Congress of the probable necessity of acquiring territory for manumission purposes. Immediately the thought struck Webb that suitable land lay along the Amazon; a little reflection convinced him that every factor pointed toward this as the best spot in the world for such a purpose.\" U.S. Negroes, thought Webb, \"in their African home . . . had lived in a similar latitude\" as Brazil's and \"were exactly fitted by nature to conditions along the Amazon.\" Webb's plan \"provided for the creation of a joint-stock colonization company\" with Lincoln \"to appoint the President of the company,\" who would be none other than Webb himself. \"Before transportation to Brazil the manumitted Negroes were to be transferred to the corporation.\" Webb thought that \"'the United States will be blessed by his [the Negro's] absence, and the riddance of a curse which has well-nigh destroyed her.'\"\n\nMany of those who worked closely with Webb thought they would be better off in his absence, deeming him the curse. A \"heavy-set, foppish man\" and a \"staunch Whig,\" Webb had an \"abrasive manner and [a] sensitive honor,\" which \"made him a difficult man with whom to work.\" His \"gout and arthritis were aggravated by the humid tropical heat\"; already he was \"suspicious, stingy, hot-tempered and aggressive\" and his multiple maladies did not improve his demeanor. Later Webb \"worried himself into the symptoms of a duodenal ulcer.\" He was \"reduced to eating nothing but moistened bread\" as a result of his various illnesses; for months he \"leaned heavily on crutches and was always liberally medicated with opiates.\" It was not easy for those of the most sunny of dispositions to stay upbeat in Rio de Janeiro where during summer months, \"it seemed to rain constantly; black mud and grey skies framed the usually picturesque mountains.\" He considered his appointment as \"little more than an opportunity to make money through his diplomatic connections.\" Not only did his eyes glint at the opportunity to make money off the misfortunes of U.S. Negroes, but he \"also had great aspirations for monopolizing Brazilian coastal trade.\" Perhaps it was the \"combination of drugs and pain\" that \"made it impossible for Webb to reason clearly and fulfill his duties expediently,\" for his grandiose schemes\u2014which had U.S. Negroes at the center\u2014went unrealized.\n\nBut it was not for lack of trying. Webb was enthusiastic about the potential logistical nightmare of removing millions of U.S. Negroes thousands of miles southward. He sought to convince Secretary of State Seward that adding U.S. Negroes to the mix in Brazil would benefit both nations. \"The Negroes on the opposite coast of Africa, whence Brazil was supplied,\" he explained, \"are a very superior race to the tribes further north, which furnished the slaves for the West Indies and the United States\"; the former were \"fierce, warlike and intellectual\" and seemed prone to \"insurrection,\" unlike their North American counterparts. He was not seeking to defame wholly his erstwhile darker compatriots, declaring, \"I insist that 50,000 freed Negroes from the United States would be worth to Brazil more than 100,000 slaves from Africa. . . . the United States will be blessed by his absence,\" he repeated, speaking of U.S. Negroes. Thus, he concluded, \"the northern provinces of Brazil\" should become the \"future home of the manumitted Negro of the United States. . . . all the freed Negroes of the United States shall be transplanted to the region of the Amazon at the expense of the United States, and there be endowed with land gratuitously by Brazil\" and \"become citizens of Brazil.\"\n\nIn a lengthy 17-page lawyer-like brief in favor of his proposal, Minister Webb asserted that he was only seeking to follow the lead of the \"President\" who was \"suggesting the means . . . of obtaining a place for colonization\"; the \"purchase of territory for this wise and philanthropic purpose may be attended with difficulties so embarrassing\" as to block the entire scheme, hence the value of a voluntary agreement with Brazil. There he found a \"rapidly increasing value of the Negro in the province of Rio de Janeiro and all the southern provinces of the Empire,\" while the \"slave population\" was \"on the decrease instead of the increase, as with us.\"\n\nIn a \"confidential\" message, the U.S. legation in Rio de Janeiro stressed further that \"the great want of Brazil at this day is labour. From the character of her climate and soil, black labour is preferable to white\" [emphasis-original]. Deporting U.S. Negroes would be a boon to both nations, it was insisted. \"Time and circumstances, not necessary to be considered in this Paper,\" it was stressed, \"have produced prejudices between the white and black races in the United States, which to [the] honour of Brazil, do not exist here and which render it absolutely impossible, that the two races should live together on terms of social and political equality\"; there was an \"absolute necessity that the freed Negro should be transported beyond the jurisdiction of the United States where he can never enjoy political or social equality\" [emphasis-original].\n\nFor a while it seemed that U.S. Negroes were Brazil bound. In a \"private and unofficial\" message that was, again, \"confidential,\" the government of Brazil initially \"conceded\" to Webb \"for a period of twenty five years and thereafter, until revoked by the government of Brazil, the exclusive right of introducing as apprentices or colonists into the Empire of Brazil, Negros in part or whole the descendants of Africans emancipated or about to be emancipated\" by the U.S. There was to be a \"joint stock company with a capital not exceeding five millions of dollars,\" controlled by both nations; each colonist was to receive \"one hundred acres of land,\" a \"hut,\" and \"certain agricultural implements.\"\n\nFor a while it also seemed that London would go along with such plans, as long as they could get their slice of the action. In mid-1862, British emissaries were contemplating \"the conveyance to St. Croix of free Negroes now in the United States or Negroes who may hereafter be captured by United States cruisers\"; at this juncture a major concern seemed to be to \"obtain for our West Indian colonies some share in the emigration.\" There ensued serious debate in London about the \"possibility of transferring to the British West [Indies] a large number of free Negroes who have been or may be emancipated by force of events in the United States.\" The Foreign Office had \"received communications from a gentleman named Henderson, a native of the United States, who is now in this country with the object of making large purchases of different kinds on behalf of the Federal Government. . . . he further states as a result of the conversation with Mr. Seward that the United States government would be glad to receive a proposal for carrying these Negroes off to the British West Indies.\" High on the list were about 100,000 recently freed slaves now in Pennsylvania. London made it clear it did not want U.S. burdens offloaded upon them\u2014\"no person should be sent who from old age or sickness were unfitted for field labour.\" No, said London, those to be deported should be \"exclusively of the agricultural class and . . . pure African,\" not \"any persons of colour of the various shades\" who Washington \"would be the most anxious to be relieved from\"; these deportees would be \"under indentures for three years.\" From Government House in Demerara, in the nation that was to become Guyana, there was enthusiasm for this proposal, in light of the vast territory there and the sparse population. \"Contraband\" Negroes, i.e., escapees from the South, \"border state\" Negro slaves, \"liberated Africans\"\u2014i.e., those caught on slavers\u2014all would be welcome. Similar enthusiasm emerged from similarly sparsely settled British Honduras: \"some of the landed proprietors are very anxious to introduce coloured labourers,\" London was informed. The desperate planters there were \"making every exertion to obtain labour from China, India, Yucatan, indeed from almost anywhere.\"\n\nBut as time passed, it seemed that London was arriving at the conclusion that U.S. Negroes should stay put. When Lincoln suggested publicly that U.S. Negroes should be dispatched to Central America, London raised the salient point that such a move was probably in violation of the \"Clayton-Bulwer\" treaty and seemed relieved when states in this region \"declined\" the U.S. Negroes they were offered. London also interposed the objection that sending these deportees to \"New Grenada\" or present-day Colombia would also violate this treaty, leading to a temporary pessimism on Seward's part, alleging that there had been \"so many difficulties . . . interposed that he scarcely expected [the deportation] be carried out.\"\n\nIn September 1862, when London's representative in Washington reported in \"confidential\" words that he \"had another conversation with Mr. Seward. . . . he told me that the President was still anxious to carry out his scheme\" but Guatemala and \"San Salvador\" were \"against the importation of any Negroes. . . . Mr. Seward expressed his conviction that the British colonies would be far better adapted than any other destination for Negro Emigrants,\" and the \"French Government\" too did not want to be excluded, as they \"were anxious to obtain a share of any Negro emigration\" and the \"Danish\" in St. Croix remained interested too. Seward remained engaged, telling London in a highly detailed proposal that \"the number of this class of persons,\" i.e., deportees, was \"augmenting and will continue to increase.\" Indeed, the \"President\" had \"authorized\" Seward to \"enter into negotiations upon the subject.\" \"Seward informed me,\" said London's representative in mid-October 1862, \"that the Government would shortly have an embarrassing influx of Negroes upon their hands.\" London was then suggesting as a way to foil CSA skepticism of this plan \"embarkation\" of these Negroes from the Northeast\u2014New York, Philadelphia, Boston\u2014not least to \"preclude the appearance of taking an unfriendly part against the Southern States near their own borders.\" But London continued to press difficult questions. As late as 17 January 1863, President Lincoln was asking London if they would accept deportees if they could \"avoid all risk of the complications which might be caused if we received Africans claimed as slaves\"\u2014this could only complicate relations with the Slave South.\n\nDays before the Emancipation Proclamation was to take effect, Lord Lyons in Washington was reporting in a \"confidential\" message that \"Mr. Seward proceeded to speak at some length on the general question of the Emigration of the Coloured Population. Men, he said, of very great weight, and indeed the President himself, inclined to the opinion that the most desirable thing for both races was to separate them and to reserve North America exclusively for the Whites. On the other hand, the more ardent members of the Emancipation Party strongly objected to the removal of the Negroes. . . . it was asked whether it was wise to deprive the country of so much muscle and sinew, whether it was prudent to add to the strength of nations which might not be always friends of the United States.\" Reflecting the sensitivity of the discussions, Lord Lyons added tersely, \"I do not think\" Seward \"would like them [his opinions] to be made public.\"\n\nIn late April 1863, London was still enmeshed in protracted negotiations with Washington about the fate of U.S. Negroes. It was then that \"Mr. Hodge, the agent of the British Honduras Company . . . arrived\" in Washington and \"had interviews with the Secretary of the Interior, with Mr. Pomeroy, Senator for Kansas. . . . he has also had an audience with the President. He tells me,\" said Lord Lyons, \"that he has met with so much encouragement and made so much progress that he hopes to be soon in a position to request me to inform the Lieutenant Governor of Honduras that the time [has] come for proclaiming the Ports in the United States for the shipment of Negroes, under the Act of the Colonial Legislature.\"\n\nBut London seemed to be souring on this grand scheme, as concern grew that they were being manipulated against the interests of the CSA, which \"might lead to embarrassing complications.\" From Jamaica came the suspicion that the entire \"scheme\" had \"originated with speculators.\" Others thought that U.S. Negroes might wind up being a Trojan horse for Washington, while Radical Republicans in the U.S. fretted that ousting Negroes would be akin to scoring an own goal. Thus, by the summer of 1863, Lord Lyons was cooling to Washington's ideas, particularly accepting \"contraband\" or escaped slaves from below the Mason-Dixon line\u2014\"serious political embarrassment might be caused at the end of the Civil War by our having taken away Negroes of their class,\" he insisted. London would accept free Negroes, but many of them had little desire to emigrate or were viewed suspiciously by British planters. Hence, the scheme passed into stillbirth\u2014and Lincoln was then poised to \"evolve\" to the point of accepting the continued presence of U.S. Negroes, not least since his desire to send them away was being extinguished for lack of finding a place to deposit them.\n\nFor the other great power of the hemisphere\u2014Spain\u2014was not enthused about an influx of Negroes to their neighborhood, not least to Haiti, whose existence had been causing shudders in Madrid and Havana for decades\u2014though their fallback position was that matters of language and culture would complicate the integration of these potential emigrants and possibly foment handcuffing problems for Port au Prince. The Spanish representatives in Haiti monitored carefully President Lincoln's meeting with Negroes during the height of the war when he sought to convince them allegedly that they should leave the U.S. Madrid took note of Lincoln's generous concession after \"several of the Spanish republics . . . protested against the sending of such [Negro] colonists to their respective territories. Under these circumstances,\" he added magnanimously, \"I have declined to move any such colony to any state without first obtaining the consent of its government.\"\n\nLikewise, Seward was sobering. Brazil and the U.S., he told Minister Webb, \"although very widely separated\" were the \"principal states on this continent [ _sic_ ] and the only two which tolerate that form of human bondage,\" i.e., slavery. \"You think that you discern the finger of God pointing to the Northern provinces of Brazil as the land of promise, rest and restoration of the slaves now in the Southern States of the Republic,\" he said rehearsing Webb's own arguments. \"You ask for the President to negotiate a treaty to effect the removal of such freedmen from their present homes and their colonization . . . in Brazil.\" Well, said Seward dismissively, \"the President cannot, without further consideration, accede to this request.\" In the first place, like London and Madrid, there was grave doubt if Rio de Janeiro would accept this potential Trojan horse. \"We have no right to assume,\" he said, \"that the Empire of Brazil would prefer an expelled caste from this country to other possible supplies of population.\" Then there was the resistance in Congress, not least from Radical Republicans. It was unclear if \"assent of two thirds of the Senate to any treaty based upon an Executive decision upon these questions could now be obtained,\" not to mention a \"majority of Congress\" for \"appropriations of money to enable the President to execute the treaty.\" Speaking elliptically\u2014though profoundly\u2014Seward added, it \"must not be inferred that the uncertainty of the public mind which I have described is a permanent and unchangeable one,\" thus, the \"President while declining at the present to give you the authority you request, invites a continuance of your discussions.\"\n\nActually, Seward's words were reflecting the dissent arising in the Cabinet and Congress to Webb's bold initiatives. \"Your Brazil scheme does not meet the approval of Chase, Sumner, et al.,\" Webb was informed, \"because they oppose colonization altogether. They say that the labor must be kept in the country & the South must use it\u2014& must have it as free labor\" [emphasis-original]. On the other hand, he was told, \"The President is ardently for a Central American colonization, as near at hand & more likely to take with the blacks.\" \"All these subjects remain a subject of earnest but as yet very confused discussion,\" was Seward's frustratingly accurate response.\n\nEven after Brazil nixed the idea of mass migration of U.S. Negroes, Webb \"believed that this hurdle could be surmounted either by the repeal of the law,\" limiting immigration of those of African descent, \"or by having the company bring in the freedmen before they were technically free. Seward unofficially approved the plan and he promised that it would be submitted to the next session of Congress.\" Yet even this idea of bringing U.S. Negroes to Brazil as something akin to \"indentured servants\" in itself was suggestive of how far out of favor the African Slave Trade had fallen.\n\nBut even this scheme proved to be overly optimistic and, as in Brazil, Washington found that securing a locale for millions of U.S. Negroes was more than a notion. How would racists react to the arrival of so many? Would Brazilian nationalists view this group as a Trojan horse? And what about the Radical Republicans? Would forcing this departure alienate a significant portion of the party that propelled Lincoln into the White House in the first place?\n\nMeanwhile, as Webb was plotting to send African-Americans to Brazil, others were still scheming to transport more Africans from Southern Africa and its environs across the Atlantic. 1863 seemed to be the watershed year in this regard with a continued stream of Africans crossing the Atlantic in this year of Emancipation in the U.S., with a fluctuation\u2014up and down\u2014in 1864, before tapering off in 1865, when the traitorous rebellion in the Slave South was squashed finally. Thus, just before Christmas 1863, it was reported from Luanda that \"during the greater portion of this year, the Slave Trade has been in a state of great activity on the coast to the southward of this port,\" while six months later it was repeated from the same port that the \"coast still swarms with vessels . . . in the service of the Slave Traders\" with many having \"no papers.\"\n\nIt had long been the goal of London to force the African Slave Trade further south, backing it into a smaller and smaller region\u2014like a boxer pushing an opponent into the corner of the ring\u2014so better as to curb its range and mobility and smash it and this seemed to be working. By the era of the Civil War, the region north of Angola near Sierra Leone was as quiet in terms of trading as Luanda was busy. There had been a favorable \"change of public sentiment which [was] produced by the secession of the Southern States and the attempt at disruption of the Union,\" while the execution of Nathaniel Gordon \"struck terror into the parties\" so disposed to slaving. \"The Slave Trade\" it was said as 1864 was about to dawn, \"during the last twelve months has been considerably on the decline.\" Reporting from Sierra Leone, a Royal Navy commander asserted that \"the war now existing between the Northern and Southern states of America has, doubtless, very materially assisted the efforts of our cruisers and intimidated the old and long-established agents of the slave dealers on this coast from risking their money and their ships in such uncertain speculation,\" though there were \"no American ships of war of any kind out there.\"\n\nSoon even Angola seemed to be changing for the better. In early 1865, the Luanda-based Portuguese-British commission, designed to frustrate the African Slave Trade, reported that \"the only case brought before them for adjudication during the course of the year 1864 was that of the schooner 'Congo' . . . navigating without papers . . . laden with a cargo that might be easily disposed of to provide the means of purchasing slaves or be bartered for them; that she had an American ensign on board\" and \"twelve blacks on board unprovided [ _sic_ ] with passports.\"\n\nAs Washington began to enforce more carefully its existing laws against the African Slave Trade and as the fortunes of the CSA began to deteriorate in the face of a Union army replenished with an ebony arm and this treasonous rebellion found itself frustrated in gaining desperately needed diplomatic support in Madrid and Lisbon and London, the number of Africans crossing the Atlantic began to slow down for the first time in years. A turning point had been reached, it seems, in the decades long\u2014nay, centuries long\u2014campaign to hinder successfully the African Slave Trade. This was reflected in the bold words of Andrew Foote, who once had sailed with the African Squadron. In mid-1862, he forcefully instructed Navy Secretary Gideon Welles, \"when this rebellion is crushed, and a squadron is fitted out to enforce the new treaty for the suppression of the African slave trade, as I have had long and successful experience in African cruising. . . . I should be pleased to have command of the African Squadron; but so long as the rebellion continues, it will be my highest ambition,\" he emphasized, \"to be actively employed in aiding in its suppression.\" Crushing the African Slave Trade and crushing the CSA were increasingly seen as synonymous. Washington signaled its new earnestness when in the spring of 1862 it signed a treaty with London \"for the suppression of the African Slave Trade.\" Finally retreating from the claim of sovereignty, the U.S. acceded to the mutual searching of trips and if the ship examined had \"shackles, bolts or handcuffs\" or \"hatches with open gratings\" or an \"extraordinary quantity of rice,\" this would be deemed \"prima facie evidence that the vessel was employed in the African Slave Trade.\"\n\nIndicative of Washington's evolving position on the African Slave Trade was the appointment of Ohioan James Monroe as Consul to Rio de Janeiro in 1863. Theretofore, Brazil had been viewed as a sinecure for anti-abolitionists like Webb or outright pro-slavery elements like Henry Wise and Meade but Monroe was made of different stuff. He \"became deeply involved in the antislavery politics of Ohio, with the famous Oberlin-Wellington rescue of 1858 and the ramifications of the Harpers Ferry raid a year later\"; unlike many of his predecessors, Monroe was \"dedicated to the eradication of slavery\" and had a \"relationship with [Frederick] Douglass\" that \"was especially close.\"\n\nBut Brazilian slavery was sufficiently insidious to ensnare the most fervent abolitionist. His household in Rio \"relied upon the labors of hired-out servants, who were slaves\"; when \"the Monroes left to return to Oberlin permanently, Bento begged to go with them to the United States. . . . the use of slave labor with the wages going to the slaves' owners, leaves Monroe open to criticism as a hypocrite.\" The tortured diplomat \"struggled with his conscience over the position he should take regarding Brazilian slavery.\"\n\nWebb did have a point nonetheless. There continued to be a perceived need in Brazil for African labor. As in the U.S., Africans had been moving from north to south, following the trajectory of economic trends. But with U.S. Negroes not arriving any time soon and the hampering of the forced recruitment of Angolans and Mozambicans\u2014\"it is now more than eight years since one single debarcation [ _sic_ ] of Africans has been realized,\" said Brazil's Minister of Justice in 1864\u2014more severe means arose. Hence, in the fall of 1864, there were complaints from Montevideo about the \"seizure in the Brazilian territory and the sale there as slaves of Uruguayan citizens and complaints as to the invasion of the Uruguayan territory by Brazilians and their forcibly carrying off Uruguayan citizens, in order to sell them as slaves in the territory of the Empire.\" Seeking to reassure Brazil that the Emancipation Proclamation was not as sweeping as it appeared, Webb informed the Marquis d'Abrantes that the \"Executive of the United States never claimed, and has never attempted to exercise the power of manumitting slaves, except where their masters were in open insurrection,\" the implication being that there was still a green-light for slavery itself.\n\nSuch blatant kidnappings were driven by the effective squeeze placed on the African Slave Trade to Brazil and a gathering abolitionist sentiment in this South American nation itself. \"The slave population is decreasing,\" said W. D. Christie, Britain's representative in Rio de Janeiro in early 1863; \"there is no possibility of a revival of the Brazilian Slave Trade,\" he said with confidence\u2014though there was \"no sign of effort or preparation for the abolition of slavery.\" From Maranham came the message on 30 September 1863 that there was \"no renewal of the African slave trade within the limits of this vice-consulate during the whole of the quarter ending this day.\"\n\nCSA slave trading operatives were busy, but their attention had been diverted away from Brazil. In early 1863, London's emissary in Havana spoke of F. P. Drain, \"who had a considerable sum of money with him and who stated that he was a citizen of the Confederate States,\" which was linked with a \"suspicious screw-steamer [that] was fitting out for the Slave Trade at Isla Mugeres on the coast of Yucatan. . . . the steamer was [none] other than the famous slaver 'Noc Daqui.'\" In September 1863, from Sierra Leone there came a report about a \"Netherlands barque 'Jane'\"; but it was added tellingly, \"there can be little doubt\" that \"her Dutch nationality was merely nominal and assumed for the purposes of fraud; she was originally an American vessel and had already been known as a successful slaver under the name of the 'Fleet Eagle,' it is most probable that her supercargo, an American, who described himself as a native of the Southern or Confederate States of America, was the real owner of the ship as well as of the cargo.\" A few months earlier \"the American brig 'Souther' 197 tons\" and registered in New Orleans, \"sailed the day before yesterday\" from Cadiz, \"nominally for St. Thomas but in reality for the coast of Africa for slaves.\" This \"old vessel\" appropriately was \"painted black.\"\n\nAnd East Africa continued to present a problem of untold dimensions. \"The Slave Trade from this side of the continent,\" it was said in late 1863 in reference to this vast region, \"is carried on to a far greater extent that is generally supposed in Europe.\" Pointed reference was made to the conspicuous presence of \"American merchants\" in Zanzibar where this \"horrible business\" was conducted. In mid-1864, the Royal Navy captured a \"schooner without name, papers or colours, fully equipped for the Slave Trade,\" near the River Congo, that was \"until recently . . . employed in running cargoes of cotton between the Confederate States and Havana. The mate, who is apparently an American, states that . . . [this] is the Captain's first voyage in the Slave Trade,\" though the \"crew of five men are European.\"\n\nThese forays from the Slave South reflected this region's desperate circumstance for with enslaved Africans fleeing north and west and with their economy spiraling into desuetude, at this point the CSA not only needed \"Cheap Africans,\" but they also needed Africans plain and simple. They and their \"Copperhead\" allies sprung into action accordingly but they were finding the going a bit tougher. In early 1862, \"the American barque 'White Cloud' a suspected slaver arrived in the River Congo\" primed for a dirty venture, but they \"met a just and well-merited end\" as \"she grounded off a point called Scotchman's Head; and the natives, who have lately given a good deal of trouble to the Europeans residing there, made a dash at her in force with a number of canoes and were soon in possession of her. The captain and crew immediately abandoned the vessel; and, destitute of everything but the clothes they stood in, arrived at the French factory at the mouth of the river. . . . the natives proceeded to destroy the rigging and plunder the whole of the cargo.\"\n\nThere was a perceived need for more labor in Brazil during the U.S. Civil War, as this conflict seemed to give a fillip to the Brazilian economy. Writing from Pernambuco in December 1863, a **New York Times** correspondent called this city a \"great center of the cotton trade. It has doubled within the past year.\" But the tectonic shift in attitudes was reflected in rejection of the assumption that only African labor could fill the gap, for this industry was \"carried on by white men and free half-breeds\"; the \"old shallow argument that the 'nigger' alone could stand the hot climate, ergo 'the nigger' must be enslaved, is all exploded. . . . slavery will go, is going, by the board in Brazil.\" Increasingly it seemed that the U.S. authorities were reconciling themselves\u2014like this **Times** correspondent\u2014to a post-slavery world. \"Nine-tenths of the cotton produced in this and adjacent provinces is the result of free labor,\" agreed the U.S. Consul in Pernambuco in November 1864. There was a recognition that it was slavery itself that had hampered the forces of production, as it was added tellingly, \"the production might be enormously increased if any care was given to the cultivation but I doubt if a single plough can be found in the hands of any cotton grower in this province.\"\n\nThis boon for Brazil seemed to be a positive for the U.S. as well, particularly in the Amazon where the idea of expatriating U.S. Negroes had yet to perish. As an economic boom rocked this region, it is easy to imagine how the idea of sending African-American laborers there gained a footing. \"The American commerce with this province (the second province in the Empire) is greater than that of any other commercial nation and nearly as great as that of England and France combined!\" Seward was informed enthusiastically in August 1862.\n\nYet despite this rose-tinted economic outlook, diplomatic relations between the U.S. and Brazil were more complicated. After all, Washington had tolerated a host of ministers, such as Meade, who had appealed to Brazil on the basis of slavery, just as they warned that if the Confederates were expropriated of their slave property without compensation, something similar would befall the Empire. Thus, the pro-Confederate **Savannah Daily Morning News** was not alone when in early 1862, it dismissed the idea that the Empire was somehow pro-U.S. \"We want no misunderstanding with Brazil,\" Seward advised Webb. \"But we can't consent that she shall harbour pirates and justify it. . . . why does not the Brazilian government adopt the French rule\u2014or even the British. Why stand out alone,\" he wondered. As late as November 1864, as the CSA was about to writhe in its death throes, the **New York Times** found that \"Confederate privateers have been constantly hovering around [Brazil's] ports and while burning United States vessels trading to Brazil off the Brazilian coast, have run into her ports at the first sign of danger,\" indicating that \"Brazil was giving undue protection to the Confederate cruisers.\"\n\nThe perceptive journalist probably had Raphael Semmes of the CSA Navy foremost in mind. Of French descent and born in Maryland in 1809, Semmes\u2014like many leading Confederates\u2014had fought in the war in Mexico. This wartime experience served him well when the Civil War broke out. Sensing correctly that Brazil could be a powerful ally of the CSA, just as disrupting its trade with the U.S. would be similarly potent, Semmes repaired southward where \"his veiled threat of calling down on Brazil the vengeance of the Southern Confederacy after it had disposed of its Northern adversary, was most persuasive.\" Brazilian elites \"caved in at once.\" In a celebratory mood, a \"British resident merchant, Mr. Ogilvie, topped off the merry-making by a splendid ball honoring the Confederate visitors . . . the Confederacy was toasted to the starlit skies.\" As Semmes himself recalled it, while in Brazil in September 1861, he \"called upon the President\" and \"was admitted to an interview. . . . I then stated to him that this war was in fact a war as much in behalf of Brazil as of ourselves, and that if we were beaten in the contest, Brazil would be the next one to be assailed by Yankee propagandists. These remarks were favorably received,\" he added modestly.\n\nActually, Semmes may have been the most notorious Confederate on the global scene, sailing from port to port wreaking havoc on the U.S. and its vessels and accepting the hosannas of the adoring. When Semmes arrived in Cape Town\u2014a town whose attitude toward Africans may have been more primitive than that of the CSA\u2014he was welcomed like a conquering hero. \"His arrival was more spectacular than had been foreseen. Colonists and natives swarmed.\" The appreciative Semmes observed, \"'during my entire stay, my table was loaded with flowers and the most luscious grapes and other fruits, sent off to me every morning by the ladies of the Cape, sometimes with and sometimes without a name.\" This occurred though \"commercially the Civil War was a disaster for South Africa, as it deprived the Cape of the transatlantic market for her wool and gave other nations a chance to establish themselves.\" Even today a song is still sung there about Semmes's ship, the \"Alabama.\" Lord De Villiers, later the Chief Justice of the Cape and then of the Union of South Africa, was in 1863 during Semmes's visit, \"still a student\" in London but heard enough about Semmes's incursion to echo the sentiments of many of his compatriots when he said, \"'I wish the Southerners well with all my heart . . . slaveholders though they may be.'\" What had made Semmes so inspirational was that he held out the prospect that those who wished to keep Africans in bondage, could yet prevail. After all, \"during his previous raids around the Cape of Good Hope Semmes captured no fewer than fourteen Northern Vessels, thereby providing busy times for the shipbrokers.\" The CSA had reason to believe it could rely upon a \"Racist International\" that included Brazil and South Africa to help them triumph in the war.\n\nThis was unsettling to Washington but it was partially to blame for the U.S. had persisted in dispatching \"reliable\" slaveholders as ministers to Brazil in the antebellum era. Thus, Henry Wise was not only \"for some years upon the Committee of Naval Affairs,\" but he also had an \"acquaintance with naval officers resulting from that fact and from his long residence at Rio de Janeiro\"; he was well positioned to provide useful intelligence to the CSA. It was not only the loss of the ships but the possibility they could then be deployed in obtaining valuable capital\u2014in the form of enslaved Africans\u2014for the CSA. It was as if Semmes was bouncing between Rio de Janeiro and Cape Town, turning the South Atlantic into a Confederate lake as he raided U.S. shipping, e.g., when \"the 'Tuscaloosa' . . . a barque of 500 tons captured by the 'Alabama' off the coast of Brazil\" and was brought to \"Simon's Bay\" in South Africa. The bold Semmes not only requested \"supplies and repairs\" in South Africa, but he also sought \"permission to land 33 prisoners.\" Then his reception was so rhapsodic that he stayed on longer than expected, with \"heavy seas\" given as the reason for the delay. Following Semmes, more rebel ships were arriving regularly in South African waters. \"No American war-ships have yet appeared here,\" said a U.S. diplomat glumly, \"but they are anxiously looked for.\" Semmes, on the other hand, was celebrating, \"offered\" a hefty \"4000 [pounds]\" for a ship he had captured, which could go a long way in fueling the CSA's rebellion. The \"damage done by Raphael Semmes to the commerce of the United States\" amounted to \"ten millions of dollars.\" Yet despite this mayhem he inflicted on the U.S. during the course of his treasonous revolt, after the war his \"statue\" was placed prominently on \"Mobile's busiest thoroughfare, standing near the sea he so long loved and dominated.\"\n\nIt was as if the racist world recognized that the arrival of Semmes was akin to a last hurrah for the African Slave Trade, now in its twilight, which had brought so much wealth to so few and so much misery to so many.\n\nIn Mexico the sardonic Semmes left a tombstone that said, \"in memoriam of Abraham Lincoln, President of the late United States, who died of nigger on the brain, 1st January 1863.\" With such a putrid attitude toward the Emancipation Proclamation, it should not be deemed overly surprising that his approach to a Brazil with more than a modicum of the darker-skinned, was hardly benevolent\u2014despite the cooperation he received at the highest levels. Yes, he \"found the country attractive but Brazilian society displeased him so violently that after the war, when an emigration scheme to Brazil was mooted in the Confederacy, it met with Semmes' forceful disapproval. 'The effete Portuguese race,'\" he sputtered, \"'had been ingrafted [ _sic_ ] upon a stupid, stolid Indian stock in that country. . . . this might be a suitable field enough for the New England schoolma'am and carpet-bagger, but no Southern gentleman should think of mixing his blood or casting his lot with such a race of people.'\"\n\nIn his memoir Semmes also speaks of meeting a Brazilian governor, \"his complexion, like that of most Brazilians, was about that of a side of tanned sole-leather.\" Even as this politician was treating him to a feast\u2014it was \"quite substantial,\" he thought\u2014the color-obsessed Semmes could not take his eyes off \"her ladyship, the governess . . . a very sprightly and not uncomely mulatto\" and \"her two little children\" with \"rather kinky, or, perhaps, I should say curly hair.\" But the high-minded Semmes was \"a man of the world and was not at all dismayed by this discovery.\" His counterparts were more concerned about their mutual taste for bondage than the matter of color, so Semmes was garnished during his stay with \"fat turkeys and bouquets, instead of remonstrances.\" But the ungrateful Semmes could only think of the countenances of his hosts, who were \"only a better class of Portuguese,\" a \"swarthy population, the chief features of which are _sombreros_ and garlic.\" He was disgusted with \"amalgamation\" in Brazil, thinking it provided a poor example for North America, as it was leading to a \"mongrel set of curs\" that would \"cover the whole land.\" He was more pleased with South Africa where \"the African had met the usual fate of the savage, when he comes in contact with civilized man. He had been thrust aside and was only to be seen as a straggler and stranger in his native land.\" As he saw it, \"the inhabitants of the Cape Colony seemed to resemble our own people\" in their penchant for white supremacy. Interestingly, on Semmes's ship \"the vast majority were British nationals but there were also . . . Frenchmen, Lascars and other Continentals and Asians,\" there was even a \"man of color on board,\" slave \"'contraband'\" who served as \"mess orderly\"\u2014but to Semmes those who served him and his cause were no more than \"waterfront riffraff.\"\n\nThus it was that this racist marauder, Semmes, found himself off the coast of Brazil during the Civil War; alongside him was John McIntosh Kell, who fondly recalled later \"we were a week or more in Bahia, enjoying all the hospitalities of its citizens and the salubriousness of its climate\"; these well-treated buccaneers were \"permitted\"\u2014in the words of U.S. Consul James Monroe\u2014\"to burn three American vessels within three miles of the shore.\" This was \"barbarous, cowardly and ruinous to our commerce,\" he said, \"and was made all the more irritating by the fact that it received substantial aid from England.\" James Watson Webb was outraged by Brazilian complicity and demanded satisfaction. In a brutally detailed 37-page reproach, he denounced this \"unfriendly act\" toward the U.S.\n\nSemmes's ship was a behemoth, \"220 feet long and 32 feet wide, with a draft when fully loaded of 15 feet\" and \"rated at 1040 tons. Each of the two horizontal steam engines was rated at 300 horsepower, but her trial run indicated that her maximum total power was close to 1000 horsepower. Her bunkers could carry 350 tons of coal. She was equipped with a double set of sails, a condenser to produce fresh water from seawater and spare equipment and supplies sufficient for a long voyage.\" Washington could not be pleased by the fact that it was the British who were central to the \"construction, arming, escape and supply\" of this vessel, along with \"other Confederate raiders\"; besides South Africa and the U.K. itself, Semmes was greeted rapturously in Jamaica, Trinidad, and other outposts of the British Empire. Thus, these \"raiders,\" e.g., the one that destroyed U.S. shipping off the coast of Brazil, were \"the most serious source of continuing tension between the United States and British governments during and following the Civil War.\"\n\nThat it was a serious source of continuing tension between the U.S. and Brazil is an understatement. The U.S. Consul in Bahia, Thomas Wilson, was livid when the \"Alabama\" arrived there in the spring of 1863. Semmes and Co. stayed for a week and were allowed to take on coals and supplies, as if Bahia were part of the CSA. Wilson vainly urged the \"President of the province\" to bar this \"but without effect. . . . on the morning of the 13th,\" he told Seward, \"I found that another piratical steamer called the 'Georgia,' bearing the rebel flag, had entered this port. She called for coals and supplies and other supplies which she was allowed to take on board.\" Wilson \"renewed the protest,\" again to no avail. Wilson was doubly upset when an \"English barque . . . attempted to furnish supplies to [these] pirates.\" Bahia seemed to be adopting a form of what they termed \"strict neutrality\" that favored the CSA, as when it referred in official documents, to \"the states of the South of the American Confederacy\" and \"the Northern states of the same Confederation\"\u2014such circumlocution could be viewed as a whopping verbal blunder or a smooth pro-CSA evasion.\n\nWilson was beyond anger about this. When \"Semmes arrived\" in Brazil \"on the 6th day of September 1861,\" he was \"granted permission to obtain . . . supplies and treated . . . in all respects as\" if he were captaining a \"regular man of war\" [emphasis-original], this \"against the protest\" of the U.S. about this \"unfriendly conduct\" of the Brazilians. Brazil was terming the CSA a \"de facto government, having in the field large armies, making war upon the United States and that the Imperial government had conceded to those states the right of belligerents, in conformity with the laws of nations and the dictates of humanity.\" The U.S., which for the longest time had resisted collaborating with Britain against Brazil in an attempt to extirpate the African Slave Trade, was now facing the dire prospect of the two teaming up against Washington: Semmes's ship not only was built in England but also \"sailed from the port of Liverpool with an English crew and flying the British flag,\" it \"never having been in a port under the control of the insurgents\" [emphasis-original].\n\nSemmes's deeds instilled fear on those being transported on U.S. vessels. Writing in mid-1862, U.S. Consul in Para, William Richard Williams, expressed grave \"apprehensions . . . regarding Southern privateering in the vicinity of this port. . . . three vessels within the last four months have disappeared very strangely.\" A worried Minister Webb instructed the Bahia Consulate \"to grant no circumstances from this port to American vessels, unless the masters of said vessels first _take and subscribe_ before you, an oath to support the Constitution\" [emphasis-original].\n\nJames Monroe of Ohio spent 49 days at sea on his way to Rio during the Civil War. It was \"mostly uneventful,\" \"somewhat wearisome\" with \"homesickness\" being a major emotion. With time on his hands, he \"discovered that my old friend the North Star had disappeared from the sky\u2014had gone behind the great polar,\" then he saw the \"Southern Cross which came into view about the same time with its four rather dim points of light,\" which let him know that he was nearing the \"Deepest South.\" Then his reverie was interrupted; his vessel just \"evaded another ship\" which \"would have sent us to the bottom. The mysterious stranger, though it was very dark, had carried no lights. One captain thought her officer must have been drunk.\" Monroe had other suspicions. He was worried about bumping into Semmes, especially in light of the \"proclamation of Emancipation,\" which he was known to despise\u2014and for which he was thought to be seeking substantial retribution.\n\nSemmes was not a master of public relations, finding it difficult to downplay his Negro-phobic attitudes, e.g., in a well-circulated letter to the **London Times** where he denounced a competing newspaper and \"kindred Negrophilist associates\" who he found \"particularly virulent and abusive\" after they correctly termed him a \"'pirate.'\"\n\nA sensible London was not willing to back a loser and as the war grinded on, Semmes's escapades were replaced in the public mind with contrasting images. In the late spring of 1863, the \"Palace of the Government\" in Pernambuco reported that \"the commanding officer of the steamer 'Florida' of the Confederated States of the American Union [ _sic_ ] which lies at the anchorage of the port of this capital\" requested \"coal,\" adding that \"like favors have been conceded to ships of the Confederated States in their need by many unions.\" The vessel would not be allowed to stay for more than 24 hours; it was \"reckoned from the reception of the dispatch and that during the interval\" the ship obtained \"coal, fresh provisions and\" was able to \"make repairs to the machinery.\" The commander of the CSA vessel objected, arguing that he needed at least four days\u2014a request that was quickly granted by Jo\u00e3o Silveira e de Souza on behalf of the \"Palace.\" Just after that, the U.S. Consul in Pernambuco, Thomas Adamson, had the \"painful necessity of reporting the destruction of another American ship by the pirate 'Florida.'\" It was as if Brazil was just one more state in the Confederate States of America.\n\nWhen this CSA ship arrived at Bahia in the late fall of 1864, the U.S. Consul there \"went at once\" to \"consult with Capt. Collins in regard to what might be done to destroy her. I found Capt. Collins extremely anxious to do everything that he could do in conformity with international law to secure the pirate,\" said Thomas Wilson; \"[he] did not wish to violate the sovereignty of Brazil by attacking her in the harbor\"\u2014but what was the alternative? Wilson was \"urging Capt. Collins to sink her in port and not trust to the uncertainties of a chase at sea. He still declined.\"\n\nBut it was not long before the appropriately named Commander Napoleon Collins of the U.S. Navy abruptly changed his mind and rammed his ship squarely into the CSA \"cruiser 'Florida,'\" accepted her surrender, and \"with the Brazilian fort guns ablaze and warships giving chase, towed his quarry out to sea and eventually to the United States.\" U.S. Consul Wilson was now elated about the \"capture of the piratical cruiser 'Florida.' . . . these pirates have made the ports of Brazil a basis for obtaining supplies and repairing their machinery and also a rendezvous where they have met their consorts and tenders, every facility for so doing having been accorded to them by the authorities of the ports which they entered, sanctioned by the Imperial Government. Thus the pirates were enabled not only to prey upon the commerce of the [U.S.] in the waters adjacent to the coast of Brazil but also within those subject to the jurisdiction of the Brazilian government\" [emphasis-original]. U.S. Navy Secretary Gideon Welles was unapologetic about the ensuing uproar. Yes, there was a \"great outcry\" among the \"English press and people,\" but it was \"Brazil herself\" which had \"in the first instance done wrong. She has given refuge and aid to the robbers whom she does not recognize as a government. . . . Brazil and other governments who have given shelter, comfort and aid to the piratical vessels that have plundered our commerce under a pretended flag which neither Brazil nor any other nation recognizes committed the first great wrong.\"\n\nSecretary of State Seward told the Brazilian Foreign Ministry bluntly that \"in the year[s] 1862 and 1863 remonstrances were addressed by us to the Government of Brazil against the policy, different as it was from that of all other American states, in regard to the furnishing of shelter and a haven [for] pirates\"\u2014with \"no satisfactory result.\" As if he were instructing a mannish schoolboy, Seward rebuked Brazil, adding \"this Government disallows your assumption that the insurgents of this country are a lawful belligerent.\" He accused the Empire of committing an \"act of intervention in derogation of the law of nations, and unfriendly and wrongful as it is manifestly injurious to the United States.\" Semmes and his sort were \"enemies of the human race,\" Seward charged angrily, while the \"wrongs and injuries\" inflicted by the CSA on the U.S. with Brazil's connivance meant that the latter \"justly owes reparations to the United States.\" Seward had a point: \"during the first two years of the war even the ports of far-off Brazil were used as occasional depots [by rebels] for arms to be shipped through the blockade to the coast of Texas.\"\n\nThe fire-eater, Edmund Ruffin, robustly begged to differ. \"The Brazilian government acted with vigor in regard to the capture of the 'Florida.' The exequatur of the U.S. Consul at Bahia was revoked,\" while \"the principal courts of Europe, also, have sent such strong protests against this violation of the law of nations, that Lincoln's government is alarmed & has manifested clear indications that it will back down as it did in the case of the Trent.\"\n\nC. M. Morris of the CSA Navy was predictably irate. \"I came to this port for the purpose of procuring provisions for my crew and getting certain necessary repairs to enable me safely to continue my voyage,\" he told the Brazilian president, and instead he was hijacked by \"cowardly and treacherous\" Yankees, engaged in the \"most base and cowardly outrage.\" The \"Governor's Secretary\" treading delicately was \"authorized to tell\" Morris that \"His Excellency was very sorry to say that your Government not being recognized by any nation, he could not keep up an official correspondence with you so as to answer your protest which he considered quite right.\" The CSA spun this as a \"flagrant outrage upon the territorial sovereignty of Brazil,\" but they could not obscure the point that even the slaveholding Empire was reluctant to truck with an outlaw regime bent not only on slavery but reviving the African Slave Trade as well.\n\nBut the pro-slaveholding forces of the Empire were of a different view. There was \"ineffective fire [from] Brazilian ships and forts\" as the CSA vessel was \"towed. . . . Two Brazilian ships pursued\" to no avail but then \"an angry mob which a few hours later attacked\" the U.S. \"consulate and defaced the American coat of arms.\" The next day a \"small company of soldiers\" were dispatched by the Empire to protect the consulate. Seward promised to repatriate the CSA ship but instead it was sunk in Hampton Harbor, Virginia and Commander Collins was promoted.\n\nWith it was sunk the Confederate dream of an alliance with Brazil that would guarantee the eternity of slavery and the African Slave Trade sunk with it. Washington came to realize that it had jeopardized its own existence by seeking to conciliate the Slave South with their despicable traders in human flesh, while Brazil came to recognize that it was risking war with its more powerful northern neighbor by doing the same. But the rebellious traitors\u2014at least not all of them\u2014did not surrender. Some instead thought the better part of wisdom would be to expatriate to Brazil, with their enslaved Africans in tow, thereby making concrete James Watson Webb's ever-shrinking vision of U.S. Negroes building the Empire.\n\nU.S. slavery had proven over the years that it was influenced by global\u2014particularly hemispheric\u2014currents. Thus, one reason U.S. Negroes remained in North America was because of the reluctance of certain nations\u2014especially Brazil\u2014to receive them as the Civil War was unfolding, just as this South American nation's friendliness to the CSA was exceedingly helpful to this regime. But what would be Brazil's reaction to the arrival of former U.S. slaveholders on their shores?\n\n## **10  \nConfederates to Brazil**\n\nThe post\u2013Civil War South was not a congenial place for those who held the African Slave Trade dear. Inevitably this also had an impact on Brazil, now sporting the once coveted but currently uncomfortable crown of being the heavyweight champion of slavery. Two simple cases of how Washington dealt with slavery in Brazil illustrate how the demise of this institution in North America undermined its continuation in South America. On 1 July 1862, William Harris, a U.S. national, died without a will in Bahia. The U.S. Consul there complained ineffectually that Brazil \"interfered\" in the administering of his estate so that all his property including \"even a poor slave girl\" was \"sold\"; the \"authorities sent their armed police after her and she too was put up and sold at auction.\" But what seemed to upset him most was that \"not a cent has ever reached the heirs of Mr. Harris who live in the city of New York\" [emphasis-original]. Certainly no meaningful protest ensued.\n\nBut by 1868, times had changed. As William Seward\u2014who acquiesced in the Harris case\u2014explained, \"a Portuguese subject Bernadino de Souza Pinto residing in the city of Recife, in Brazil, had a slave named Jos\u00e9 who was induced to run away to New York on board of the United States brig schooner. . . . [The] American Consul . . . refused to take the necessary steps\" to retrieve him, to which his owner objected. Figuratively thrusting out his chest as he bestrode his high horse, Seward explained to the representative of this embittered loser of valuable property that \"slavery is not only unknown here but is forbidden and disallowed. . . . no law of the United States forbids slaves in foreign ports from the use of merchant vessels in foreign ports . . . from enjoying rights of asylum in the United States.\"\n\nThe annihilation of the CSA and the undermining of their \"Copperhead\" allies did not magically end the role of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade. In August 1865, months after guns had been stilled in North America, familiar news was coming from Luanda: \"two American whaling ships . . . on the coast with . . . 800 slaves.\" In July 1865, the \"Bark Dahomey\" purchased in Lisbon, then transferred to New York, was in and out of Havana and suspected of slaving\u2014though \"the owners have never been in the slave business.\" Then there was \"the arrest\" in Philadelphia after Lincoln's murder \"of a Portuguese slaver and blockade runner named John Celestina who was suspected of being connected with the conspiracy to murder the leading officers of the Government.\" Just as the existence of slavery in Brazil had given an enormous boost to the ambitions of the CSA, the demise of the CSA was correspondingly a detriment for this slave nation; yet the continued existence of African slavery in Latin America, even after it had been extinguished in North America, would continue to provide a base for remnants of the Slave South and their allies.\n\nThere were thousands of Confederates now in an analogous position\u2014deprived of valuable property but unlike the gentleman from Recife, they had to endure the added indignity of living as close to their former property\u2014who were now perceived as incredibly cheeky\u2014as lips and teeth. To many, this transcended being intolerable, it soared beyond unendurable. Hence, many packed their bags and moved to an ally of the now vanquished CSA where slavery continued\u2014and did continue\u2014until 1888: Brazil. Thus, it was not surprising when as early as mid-May 1865, the verbose Mary Chesnut noted in her diary, \"Isabelle writes that Rosser & Young have escaped\u2014one to Maximilian, the other to Brazil.\"\n\nEven before the war's conclusion, the **New York Times** had detected signs of emigration. In fact, this trickle southward was an early indication of the failing fortunes of the CSA. \"New from Europe,\" the **Times** announced in October 1864, \"is the curious item that 'several wealthy Southern planters from South Carolina propose settling Brazil.' One gentleman is expected to arrive there with an odd quarter of a million in some sort of money.\" A few weeks later it was observed that \"a good many wealthy Southern planters are removing to Brazil and settling here. They go there in order to hold their slaves in peace.\" During this same period, the U.S. Consul in Para, the Amazon, reported the arrival of \"Dr. A. A. Blandy, a dentist recently resident in Baltimore\"; he \"fled from the U.S. to avoid a criminal prosecution for having swindled a Jew\" and, suspiciously, \"arrived at this port in the British brig . . . with a false passport.\" He was a \"blatant secessionist\" and complained incessantly about \"'outrages by Butler's black soldiers on [white] women in the South.'\"\n\nAnd even before this, there \"was a significant interest in Brazil on the part of Southerners prior to the Civil War. This interest, in fact, went all the way back to . . . James Edward Calhoun, a brother of the well-known Southern firebrand,\" who \"made a number of friends in Brazil while serving on the crew of the USS Boston\" in the 1830s. In 1852, \"several planters approached the Brazilian Minister in Washington, proposing to settle with a thousand slaves along the Amazon. And talk of annexation spread.\"\n\nThus, an alert listener at Appomattox may have heard a fellow officer of Robert E. Lee discussing the fact that he had already been in touch with the Emperor of Brazil about migrating. Captain Frederick N. Colston and \"General Alexander\" were chatting about this. The latter \"said that he was going to try to go to Brazil and I wanted to go with him,\" said the eager Captain. \"I have an interesting letter from him from the 'Brandreth House, N.Y., April 22nd 1865' telling of the inability of getting there and asking that it be communicated to Latrobe, General Longstreet's A.A.G. who also thought of going.\" Weeks later, Jedediah Hotchkiss, Stonewall Jackson's famed topographer, was following up aggressively on these plans.\n\nHow many Confederate expatriates were there after the Civil War? Estimates vary. Eugene C. Harter claims a figure of \"twenty thousand or so,\" but this may be too high; my own highly speculative guess is that the figure may be half that many.\n\nIn December 1865, Henry Shipley Stevens of Ohio was on his way to Brazil \"to look up old customers and find new ones\" and on board his vessel were a \"group to which I wish to call your especial attention. Here are ten patriarchal looking gentlemen, who, with five or six younger ones, go out to Brazil to gain their freedom in a land of slavery; to escape from their old homes in Mississippi and northern Alabama, to go to nearly the last place on the globe where they can hold slaves.\" However, even then, he thought the number of Dixie refugees entering Brazil was miscalculated. \"From what I learn,\" he said, \"the number of Southerners who have gone to Brazil and who are preparing to go, has been under-estimated at the North. These people on board seem to belong to that middle class of farmers, so common to the South\u2014the men who did most of the fighting at the behest of their superiors\u2014who are still belligerent, though confessing to a lost cause. They are all zealous defenders of slavery.\" These also included a \"General and one or two officers who have earned their titles by hard fighting,\" but the \"unpardonable economy of truth\" on their part and on the part of their fellow Confederates hampered Stevens' ability to guess how many of their kind were migrating. Opinions about the numbers and class origins of the exiles vary, but what is broadly true is that racial animus and\/or anger with the U.S. were factors in every case.\n\nTo where in Brazil did they decamp? in what was once characterized as \"the largest planned migration ever to take place from the United States.\" There were six settlements and all failed except one at today's \"Americana,\" appropriately in the south of that huge nation. Since Brazil was a \"slave holding nation,\" said U.S. diplomat James Monroe, the Confederates were \"received with much friendly attention and even with distinction by Brazilian officials at the Capital and in the interior\"; they \"bought or leased lands, bought or hired slaves\" but \"in less than a year,\" they began drifting back to the U.S., often disillusioned with Brazil, at times poorer since \"many of the slaves whom they had bought, or for whose services they had contracted, ran away and it was not easy to recover them.\"\n\nThe Empire, which was seeking to attract immigrants from Europe, at the same time they were turning away those of African descent, was open to accepting Euro-Americans, who were hostile to the U.S. The passage from New York to Rio de Janeiro was a hefty $122, though \"this money was to be refunded by the government of Brazil upon arrival in the country,\" suggestive of how eager the Empire was for these \u00e9migr\u00e9s.\n\nThough many in succeeding generations have denied it, there is little question that there were two intertwined matters that drove so many from the U.S. to move so far: hatred of the federal government and a desire to continue African slavery. \"The tide of emigration setting towards Brazil is becoming every day more and more deep and general,\" reported the **New York Herald** in September 1865; \"they abhor the idea of political equality with their former slaves; and rather than submit . . . they would expatriate themselves altogether.\" The son of Matthew Fontaine Maury, the early champion of seizing the Amazon, remarked in mid-1866 in words that captured a widespread feeling, \"I am so thoroughly anti-Yankee and pro-Confederate that I will always allow my feelings to run away with me when on this subject.\" Why the anger? One unnamed rebel summed it up when he emphasized the \"unconstitutional confiscation of my Negroes\" and the related \"belief\" that the \"Radicals will prevail\" in Washington [emphasis-original]. During the war Green Ferguson's job was \"capturing runaway slaves and escaped Yankee prisoners of war. The tools of his trade were a horse and 4 fox hounds. After the war federal troops arrested him and took him to New York City. . . . Green escaped and returned [home] to South Carolina. Later he was among the first to travel to Brazil,\" where he stayed\u2014and \"died a lonely and disappointed man in 1905.\" But when queried in 1868 from his new home in S\u00e3o Paulo, Ferguson was acidly bitter when asked rhetorically why he should return to the U.S. \"You tell me that your country is bankrupt and that the Negroes rule. Again, I ask, what do you wish me to return to the United States for?\" especially since, said Ferguson, \"I left the United States to avoid this state of affairs.\" He was content in Brazil though having been there \"about sixteen months\" where he was \"free from tyranny and misrule.\"\n\nLike Ferguson, George Barnsley decided, \"I have no other hope but emigration.\" Why? \"I cannot conscientiously take an oath to the U.S. Government.\" Like other Confederates, he could not rationalize swearing an oath of affirmation to a government that he had just sought to overthrow and which now, in turn, had overthrown slavery ruining thousands in the process. \"In the advertisements sent out for the purpose of soliciting colonists, the promoters,\" Frank McMullen and William Bowen of Texas \"sounded the warning that no persons would be considered unless they could qualify morally and politically\u2014that is, be Southerners and hold proslavery sentiments.\"\n\nIn the early postbellum era in Virginia, a Confederate was asked if he thought a \"'friendly feeling'\" between the former warring combatants could ensue. \"'No sir, never,'\" he replied firmly. \"'The people of the South feel they have been . . . most tyrannically oppressed by the North. All our rights have been trampled upon. We knew that we had a perfect right to go and leave you,'\" he declared, restating the rationale for secession\u2014in his view, it would be akin to Britain not being able to depart the European Union. In 1867, the Confederate J. D. Porter observed the growing \"feeling that the Negroes will take this country,\" meaning the U.S., \"and that the whites will have to abandon it\"\u2014this was \"taking holds of the minds of our people.\"\n\nJames Gaston arrived in Brazil in September 1865. He wrote at length apprising his fellow Confederates of the opportunities available there. \"Negroes are not admitted into Brazil from other countries unless free-born,\" he said sadly, \"and even should they be citizens of the latter after being born in slavery, it does not authorize them to be received here. Regarding this, a matter of much moment to those whose Negroes would be willing to come with them to this country, I urged the importance of some modification.\" However, the \"Minister\" told him, \"this element would not be a very desirable addition to the population of this country.\" There was a \"questionable propriety to admit this particular class of free Negroes in a country where slavery exists,\" in any case, \"and the influence of these freedmen upon other free Negroes and upon slaves in Brazil might tend to bring about similar scenes to those which have been enacted in the process of emancipation in the United States.\"\n\nAs early as December 1865, the **Times** reported on \"these 'Caucasians'\" in Florida opposed to the new order: \"we have heard these embittered men talk of the attraction of life in Brazil, of its freedom from 'niggers' and 'nigger worshippers,' the latter term now being applied to the majority of Northern men who come South to engage in business.\"\n\nThus, \"there was not a single state south of the Potomac and Ohio rivers that did not have its society for the promotion of emigration.\" \"Several\" of these \u00e9migr\u00e9 planters went straight to the \"slave marts of Rio de Janeiro and elsewhere and made purchases\" upon arrival. Near \"Petropolis . . . Captain [James] Johnson of Florida purchased a large plantation (fazenda) with its supply of Negro laborers,\" i.e., \"many Brazilian slaves.\" \"Names prominent in the antebellum South were not infrequently heard\" in Brazil. \"Russell, a Louisiana planter, leased a plantation and its Negroes for ten years\"; \"ten miles from the City of Rio de Janeiro Major [Duncan] McIntyre bought fazenda Ipahiba, with its one hundred and thirty Negroes.\" It was like old times for McIntyre as he \"began to grow sugar cane, oranges and coffee\"\u2014\"business was good.\"\n\n\"One of the original settlers recalled years later that her people came to Brazil because they wanted to continue a system\"\u2014slavery\u2014\"that was no longer legal in the United States.\" Unfortunately\u2014for these \u00e9migr\u00e9s\u2014they did not consult the vast amount of memoirs penned by those who had traversed Brazil on their way to California during the Gold Rush, for if they had they would have recognized that for those who harbored an ideology of \"race\" like themselves, Brazil was something less than hospitable. \"The social mobility enjoyed by Negro freedmen and the relaxed attitude taken toward miscegenation shocked most Southerners.\"\n\nFurthermore, though some were able to circumvent this provision, Brazil was firm in asserting that \"'no slaves can be imported into Brazil from any country whatsoever.'\" \"General [Wallace] Wood of the late so-called [CSA] has lately arrived here,\" said Edward Thornton of the British legation in Rio de Janeiro in November 1865. He wanted to bring \"60,000 souls\" to Brazil but the relevant Ministry told him straightforwardly that \"no Negroes, either slaves or free, can be admitted into the country.\" He and those like him \"must previously dispose of them\" before arriving; \"the greatest desire on the part of the Brazilian Government and authorities in general here,\" added Thornton, was \"that no importation of Negroes should take place.\"\n\nMoreover, many of these Confederates\u2014like their counterparts in 1849\u2014were disconcerted to see those they deemed to be Negro wielding weapons as soldiers and police officers. \"Many Confederados of the first generation never quite got used to [this] practice,\" e.g., those defined as Negro in the U.S. exerting power in Brazil, for \"to them, a man with any black blood was black and should stay in his own society.\" The U.S. Consul in Para had noticed this disillusion on the part of his erstwhile compatriots. \"The immigrant from the South if he would be successful in Brazil must leave his prejudices behind him,\" he insisted. \"If he abandons his home only because he is indignant at the assertion of equal rights on the part of those who until recently were judged to have no rights at all, he will find here that the free black, or at least the black man born free, has all the privileges of a white citizen, and greater privileges than the white man if a foreigner\" [emphasis-original]. But it was not easy to leave these prejudices behind at the port of embarkation, like so much unnecessary baggage. Herbert H. Smith of Brooklyn was typical in the disgust that he felt in Brazil; \"people who talk of 'amalgamation' as a blessing to be hoped for,\" he declared, \"should study it here [in Brazil] where it is almost an accomplished fact. The mixed races are invariably bad.\" Smith's presence was not anomalous for in 1867, the Reverend A. A. Porter averred, \"'there are more immigrants in Brazil from New York than from the South. They come here to get employment in the government works and are disappointed. . . . [Southerners] buy large farms and several slaves on a credit.'\" The presence of these Northerners was not inconsistent with the antebellum ethos of the African Slave Trade and, perhaps, accounts for the varying figures as to how many from the U.S. actually migrated to Brazil. Yet clashes between Northerners and Southerners did become a flashpoint in Brazil, suggesting more ideological variation in the migration of the former, as their regional conflict seemed to be exported; in early 1867 in Rio de Janeiro, a \"party of Northerners attacked and attempted to burn a sawmill belonging to the Southerners.\"\n\nJohn Codman, who left the U.S. for Brazil during the heat of Reconstruction, wound up on a ranch 20 miles from Rio de Janeiro \"where the cattle ran wild and Negroes became very much like them.\" \"No people has attempted the experiment [with miscegenation] more recklessly than the Brazilians,\" he declared. J. D. Porter would have agreed with him. Writing from Brazil in 1867 to his cousin, John D. Templeton, in Waxahatchie, Texas, he thought this was the \"country to which Southerners should emigrate\"; competition was not stiff, given the \"extreme stupidity of this people in the useful arts,\" reflected in their \"refusing to use the plow\"; the \"moral leprosy [is] far more to be feared here than the physical,\" he concluded. \"The social and religious ideas of this country are a disgrace to the age\" and \"the priesthood are as immoral as the laity.\"\n\nBut setting aside moral rot and rank incompetence, there was an overriding factor that made Brazil attractive. \"The rumors you have heard to the contrary notwithstanding,\" he told his cousin, \"slavery will not be abolished soon in this country and when done, as most probably it will be, this government is not going to make paupers of Africans. In proof\u2014Negroes are advancing in price and Southerners are all wanting to buy.\" In other words, the participation of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade had not ended with the conclusion of the Civil War but had taken on a new form and migrated, as U.S. nationals kept dealing in dark human flesh, be they in Brazil, Venezuela, Egypt, or the South Pacific. Porter was candid in confronting the \"objections to Brazil being urged,\" toward \"Negro Equality.\" Keep in mind, he declared, that \"the poor African [here] unless mixed with better blood rarely attains a social or civil eminence. And with a few exceptions, his blood taints whatever it mixes, so that few of this class ever reach the upper strata in Brazilian life.\" Compare the U.S. he added derisively, where \"the best part of the white race\" were little more than equal with Africans while the \"policy of the dominant party of the U.S. is to efface all social distinctions\u2014a policy clearly indicated in . . . forcing Negroes into omnibuses, street and railroad cars, hotels (and so forth) and a policy that, like all their other ideas will ultimately prevail, and does now to a greater extent in the U.S. than in Brazil.\"\n\nFor with all its differences with the U.S. over the question of the configuration of \"race\" and the role of the African, Confederates were flocking to Brazil because of one major reason: As the intrepid British traveler, Richard Burton, put it, upon his arrival in Brazil right after the U.S. Civil War, \"those of 'pure white blood' even being poor, would receive a treatment that in their countries of origin were reserved only to the most fortuned: 'as a field for the white man no country equals . . . Brazil.'\"\n\nThe search for a \"white paradise\" coupled with profound pessimism about the prospects for the U.S. drove many away from the reconstructed Union. Writing from S\u00e3o Paulo in 1874, one emigrant opined that \"the Southern States\" were \"on the eve of a war of races and within the last few days a dispatch has arrived in this country by telegraph that it has already commenced and that several thousand had been killed.\" Typically, this dire foreboding was yoked to a deep skepticism about the U.S. government which had just escaped being toppled. When the Civil War began, it was expected that \"the Northern people and the Federal government will side with the Negro, that it will come I have no doubt and the sooner the Southern people may prepare for it the better.\" As for Brazil, bright optimism prevailed: though it would \"not pay a man of my age,\" said the writer only identified as Whitaker, \"to go to planting coffee beans as it takes four years under the most favorable circumstances to realize and crop from them,\" the good news was that \"Negroes have advanced in price quite materially.\"\n\nIndeed, there were some Confederates who saw their defeat in the Civil War as a mere setback, a pricking skirmish in an ongoing conflict. Their goal was to use Brazil as a springboard for constructing a newer slave empire that, ultimately, could reverse the outcome of the Civil War. In the spring of 1866, a correspondent in Venezuela, Dr. Henry Price, told Lafayette McLaws of plans to establish a colony in Venezuela; \"so soon as we have 1000 inhabitants,\" he was told, \"we should organize a Territorial Government\u2014when 50,000 (allowing us to count Indians) a State Government. It is perfectly understood, if we so desire, [we] may establish slavery\u2014Brazil furnishing market. Fortunately for our scheme the most intimate friendship & confidence exists between myself\" and high level officials. \"I was a States Rights Democrat & Secessionist from principle after John Brown's raid. My belief in the orthodoxy of slavery is as firmly fixed as my belief in [the] Bible.\" These plans were capacious, calling for \"trade\" in the \"entire Valley of the Amazon, even to [the] foot of the Andes in Peru & Bolivia.\" \"Open the Slave Trade\" was also a goal. \"We can at once establish a state or in one with any form of government we please\" with more \"Confederate soldiers to be recruited.\" This was no last minute scramble either as this idea had been bruited \"as early as 1857. At the fall of Richmond I devised the plan & opened with the Government\" in Caracas, said the ever-prepared Dr. Price.\n\nActually, the arrival of so many Confederates was, in a sense, contrary to the impact that the Civil War\u2014and, especially, its accoutrement, Emancipation\u2014had on Brazil. For as the British emissary, Edward Thornton, reported in December 1865, \"events that have lately taken place in the United States have inspired Brazil with a feeling of isolation and shame that she should be the last on this continent to wipe off such a stain from her institutions and are producing a moral pressure which it will be difficult for her Government to withstand.\" \"One of the first shock waves\" that hit Brazil \"resulted from the outcome of the American Civil War,\" according to historian Robert Toplin. \"News of the sudden demise of the Western Hemisphere's largest slave society [ _sic_ ] frightened Brazilian leaders.\" It was the \"abolition of slavery in the United States, which helped inspire a national policy of gradual emancipation through 'free birth.'\" Months after Appomattox, one Brazilian journal asserted that a \"hydra headed monster is rearing up and looming in the future, in a short time and Brazil will be the only country in the civilized world where slavery is tolerated.\"\n\nThe Empire had to be concerned that Washington might want to retaliate given its own newly found abolitionism and Brazil's own favorable attitude toward the CSA. As the Civil War was winding down, high-ranking U.S. Senator, Charles Sumner, told the scientist, Louis Agassiz, who was about to visit Brazil, \"of course, you will see the Emperor of Brazil\" and \"if he gives you an opportunity I hope you will not fail to let him know that there are good friends of Brazil here who think that a grave mistake was made when this Power, naturally friendly to the United States, consented to follow the lead of Lord Russell in elevating our rebels to the condition of lawful belligerents on the ocean. It is difficult to see all the consequences of this act,\" though he added, \"I wish that the Brazilian government could see the mistake that has been made & cancel it.\" But as Brazil opened its doors to obdurate, recalcitrant Confederates, Senator Sumner was poised to challenge the Empire. \"How would it do to suspend diplomatic relations with Powers maintaining Slavery? This would bear on two countries only\u2014Spain & Brazil. Such an act on our part could not fail to have important consequences. I do not think these two countries could stand against the pressure.\"\n\nSumner's potential demarche was understandable. As Henry Shipley Stevens floated south to Brazil in early 1866 he met aboard his vessel, a \"rebel Colonel\" who \"was formerly on Stonewall Jackson's staff, but afterwards went into the blockade running trade and has made successful trips. The object of his visit to Brazil was to dispose of several of the blockade runners. There are now fifteen in the harbor of Rio. Several of them have been sold to the government\"\u2014and it was unclear what had happened to the others. In a confidential memorandum in 1865, the Brazilian Foreign Ministry was informed that \"the undersigned Brigadier General of the Confederate States and Chief of staff to Gen'l Beauregard at the request of the latter, has sought this interview with His Excellency the Minister of the Brazils, to tender to the Emperor the services of General Beauregard as a Military Engineer without commission\"; he wanted to \"devote all the skill and aptitude he has to the defence of Brazil.\" After the murder of President Lincoln, CSA General Edward Porter Alexander feared that he would be suspected and \"instantly mobbed & lynched,\" so he \"wore a U.S. Army private's overcoat, only dyed black instead of its original blue\" and immediately \"went to see the Brazilian Minister. He read my letters & told me that if I should go to Brazil he had no doubt I could secure a commission in the Brazilian army.\" Knowing that such activity might be viewed widely as subversive and incompatible with his diplomatic status, the Minister \"seemed to be actually afraid lest my being in his house might bring a mob on him.\" Maximilian's Mexico \"was still desperate for experienced military assistance. Some top Confederate generals and militarists were already serving in Mexico. More could be drawn there\" to assist his continuing plots for reclaiming land seized by the U.S. in 1848. George Barnsley, scion of a prominent Georgian family, groaned in August 1865, \"I have not the shadow of an excuse. I am utterly ruined\u2014in hopes, in fortune and all save honor gone. . . . No I must go,\" he insisted, \"if there is no hope in Brazil, could I not do well in Mexico\u2014I could get a position there in the Army\" [emphasis-original]. Brazil, a veritable cobelligerent of the CSA, during the Civil War, was now accepting the most retrograde, unforgiving rebels, along with some of their military materiel: Washington would have been negligent if it had failed to view this as a further act of belligerence.\n\nAnd even before the war ended, there was another concern. As the Dixie migration accelerated \"in some quarters of the United States apprehension was felt less the cotton industry in Brazil, stimulated by exiles from the South, might offer keen competition to the same industry.\" \"The production of the Indies, Egypt and Brazil, will be larger than ever the coming season,\" said one reporter in early 1868, \"and that it will be furnished cheaper than in previous years. Under all these circumstances, it may be hard to see where grounds of hope are to be found for the revival of American cotton.\"\n\nThe rebel \u00e9migr\u00e9 James Gaston certainly thought so too: \"the yield here is better than in the United States,\" he declared, \"and the fibre of the cotton is superior to the average quality grown in the South, which, taken with the fact that it grows two years in succession from the same stalk, give that grown here an advantage over the plants in the United States. Our views as to the probability of failure in the labor [of] our Negroes in the South, lead us to think that cotton may be produced in this . . . country cheaper than in the South and that the market will be supplied principally by Brazil at no distant day.\"\n\nBrazil in these minds would not only become an Empire of slavery, challenging the U.S. in the vital economic sphere, but as well\u2014and, perhaps, more dangerous in the long run\u2014a \"contra\" base of opposition tailor-made for CSA diehards.\n\nYet, as time passed, there was less incentive for Brazil to welcome these migrants warmly despite the apparent advantages they offered; instead, these sojourners came to resemble a rotting mackerel in the moonlight that was shining brightly as it invaded the olfactory. Consequently, Northern U.S. propaganda was unleashed against these Confederates, who were beginning to be seen not as quirky malcontents but as potential counter-revolutionaries. The **New York Times** in December 1865 warned that Confederates \"having thereby strengthened\" the \"Empire, these Coriolanuses shall return, 'leading a power 'gainst Rome; vowing revenge as spacious as between the oldest and the youngest thing.'\" This journal looked askance at the unsupported claim that \"50,000 families\" would be moving south; they highlighted the Brazilian point that \"no slaves and not even free colored people will be permitted to enter. Was this hint necessary? Did our Southern friends expect to bring any part of this, their former wealth?\" \"I wonder,\" it was said, \"how they will like to find that such man a gentleman of color, as is most likely to be the case,\" as \"government officer, judge, or something like it. . . . I wonder how the Protestant part of them will like to be excluded from voting for Electors and other officers?\" it was said in reference to the blatant pro-Catholic bias of Brazil. \"The Southern slaveholder, the chivalrous aristocrat will have now to begin to do what his despised Yankee neighbor never thought it a shame to do\u2014he will have to work for himself.\" Confederates carried a \"secret longing to found another slaveholding Power on this soil,\" speaking of Brazil, but seemed unaware that \"the Brazilians are beginning to talk very seriously of abolishing slavery legally and forever.\"\n\nUndeterred, early on J. H. Blue of Missouri alerted the Brazilians\u2014and irked Washington\u2014when he announced in September 1865 that those potential emigrants, like himself, wished to align with \"the Emperor Louis Napoleon of France, the Emperor Don Pedro of Brazil and the Emperor Maximilian of Mexico\"; they were \"forming a triumvirate more mighty than ancient Rome and more hopeful than the Anglo-Saxon\"\u2014and the U.S.\n\nUnsurprisingly, there was palpable enthusiasm\u2014initially in Brazil\u2014about the arrival of these rebel migrants. It was the \"leading topic of the journals throughout this Empire for several months,\" said the U.S. emissary in Rio de Janeiro in 1867; \"representatives from the Southern States . . . professing to be agents to locate lands for hundreds and thousands of people, have stated, that not only thousands of families, but that even an hundred thousand families, would come to Brazil.\" These representatives were \"received with the utmost distinction possible to high dignitaries.\" Suggestive of the revenge they might seek against Washington was the \"boast\" of \"many of them . . . that they are secessionists and of their hatred to the Yankeess. . . . they are, with few exceptions, ' _de facto_ ' just as much rebels today as when in arms against it\" [emphasis-original]. However, the emissary, William Van Vleck Lidgerwood, envisioned difficulties ahead for these revenge-seekers: \"many Brazilian officials, and specially of the lower order,\" he said, \"are men of African descent; and the American immigrant from the Southern States, especially if congregated in any number, being accustomed to order men of color, would soon make himself obnoxious to this class, and difficulties would ensue; and under such circumstances, though he had left the United States without a passport, intending never to return to it, cursing our country and its institutions, he would remember in his time of need that he was born an American citizen.\"\n\nNevertheless, when CSA General Wallace Wood arrived in October 1865 in Brazil with \"several other gentlemen of the Southern states to fix upon a locality for a settlement of Southerners,\" he was greeted enthusiastically. A \"spontaneous demonstration was set up\" by the \"most influential Merchants and Brokers\" of S\u00e3o Paulo. When he appeared \"at the window of the Exchange Hotel,\" he was \"loudly cheered.\" Though Wood in his remarks to the assembled could \"'speak to you in English only,'\" that did not quell the cheering throngs. \"We shall bring to your country, as speedily as facilities will admit of it,\" cried Wood, \"50,000\u2014aye one hundred thousand families of the best and most energetic and most enterprising citizens of North America.\" General Wood was being greeted like a conquering savior. \"An hour before sunset\" on the \"Rua de Dereta, the main street in the city, on which the Exchange Hotel, where he had taken rooms was located,\" began \"filling for the distance of three blocks or squares in front of the hotel with a dense mass of humanity and a band of music, while the windows, balconies and housetops of the buildings in the city were thronged with women and children, waving handkerchiefs and miniature flags of Brazil and the States. In response to loud and repeated 'vivas for General Wood,' that gentleman appeared in one of the balconies of the hotel, where, in his representative character, he was welcomed with deafening shouts, the band playing 'Dixie.'\"\n\nThis \"encouraging immigration and more especially that of those citizens of the United States who are dissatisfied with the state of matters there,\" crowed one insider in Brazil, was \"meeting with great favor from all classes, both in Rio and the provinces\"; moreover, \"the initiation of the new mail line of steamers between Brazil and New York\" was \"hailed\" similarly with \"much satisfaction\" as a harbinger of a day when talented migrants and goods alike would flow effortlessly from north to south.\n\nThe **New York Times** was not pleased with General Wood, who hailed from the rebel stronghold that was Mississippi and was a \"long-time resident of New Orleans.\" This \"middle-aged man, a lawyer and editor, a fluent writer\" and \"forcible speaker\" was \"appointed the chief agent of associations of immigrants of four counties in Mississippi.\" Their reporter seemed dumbfounded about his \"enthusiastic\" reception and the fact that \"no passport was asked of him\u2014he had none\u2014and his baggage was permitted to be taken to his hotel without the surveillance of the customs.\"\n\nA segment of public opinion in Brazil, on the other hand, was decidedly excited about the prospect of this mass departure. The Confederates, it was said, were \"an educated, intelligent, industrious and wealthy class of persons\"; indeed, \"no such community has ever decided upon expatriation\" and this could only be a boon for Brazil. For just as the \"Lombards introduced by their expatriation to England the sciences, arts, capital and commercial usages\u2014and in like manner as the Portuguese and Spanish Jews conveyed with them to Holland sufficient wealth to make that country one of the richest in means\u2014so will the Confederates elevate Brazil to a high standard of literacy, scientific and commercial prosperity, which she is so much entitled to.\" The \"average amount of capital which the Confederates may bring with them, will be [considerable] . . . [and] this alone is worthy of attention\" particularly compared with the amounts brought by \"Europeans who go to the United States.\" Like a star professor attracting other stellar faculty to an academic department, it was said that a \"gentleman from the Cape of Good Hope\" asserted that a \"thousand persons were either started or preparing to leave Southern Africa for Brazil, seeing in this country a future for their efforts which they vainly looked for there.\" Thus, \"great anxiety was manifested by the Northerners to discourage the emigration which is taking place in the Southern States.\"\n\nWhat was the natural source of immigrants to Brazil\u2014akin to the British and Western Europeans to the U.S.? According to Dr. Antonio Francisco de Paula Souza, Minister of Agriculture in 1866, it was the Confederates; in fact, he thought, this migration would be \"counterbalancing the tendency of European emigration to the United States.\" Reaching for an analogy, he posited provocatively that the \"revocation of the Edict of Nantes wearied by religious fanaticism from the weakness of an old king, threw out of France more than 400,000 of the most energetic, industrious and wealthy individuals\"\u2014and, he thought, history was repeating itself with this time Brazil being the beneficiary.\n\nIronically, these Negrophobic, slave hungry Confederates were seen by some as a means by which Brazil could avoid a servile revolt. \"Many persons and in an especial degree foreigners, pretend to foresee another St. Domingo in Brazil,\" said one Brazilian periodical nervously in 1867; \"others at the least a second Jamaica on a grander scale.\" The \"Brazilian,\" it was said incongruously, \"naturally turns his eyes to the United States for the initiation of the solution, for a clue to guide the country from the labyrinth of difficulties which surround this matter\" since \"Brazilians lack that ruthlessness, that inhuman energy of the North American which prefers to destroy the savage to conciliating and civilizing him, and will as readily root out the black if he proves contumacious.\" Evidently, it was not realized that whatever dearth in \"ruthlessness\" possessed by Euro-Brazilians in dealing with Africans was due more to their lesser numbers compared with the \"North American\" than anything else.\n\nOn the other hand, some of the migrants from the north held views about Brazil that were similarly uncomplimentary to residents of this giant land. John Codman, for example, argued bluntly in 1867, \"let the Monroe Doctrine in its modified sense be extended to Brazil. Let us make an American state of it, without the process of annexation. . . . and as the Indians have died away from among us, and the Africans are now perishing, so will this composite, mongrel, effete race disappear from the world. It is destiny.\" As Codman saw it, \"it does not seem that this people can compete with the Anglo-Saxons.\" \"If God did make 'of one blood all the nations on the earth,' it was a long time ago,\" he added sarcastically; \"and now the blood is so certainly not the same, that He can alone restore it to its original purity. All the endeavors of miscegenationists have proved failures\" for \"no people has attempted the experiment more recklessly than the Brazilians.\" The arrival of northern migrants would mark a turning point for Brazil: \"years hence, it may appear that one of the results of our civil war will have been the repeopling of this land from the starting-point of the few dozens of Americans who have landed here.\" Codman had first arrived in Brazil in 1847 and then sought to \"take off every restriction upon the slave trade between Africa and Brazil\" and continued to think that \"Brazil cannot be supplied with labor unless there shall be a species of coolie trade between that country and Africa . . . black labor from the nearest market is therefore a necessity for Brazil, even if the result of its importation should eventually be a black empire.\" Of course, there were ways to circumvent this, he informed his English-speaking audience, pointing to \"an enterprising Portuguese,\" who was \"very poor\" but \"undertook to make money systematically . . . by the increase of his [Negro] 'stock,'\" recognizing that \"mulattoes are as valuable as Negroes. Think, then, by what double prostitution he succeeded in obtaining two in each season\u2014one being the half of his own flesh and blood, the other belonging in the same proportion to his wife! So it went on, year after year, the children being sold when of suitable age; and by this commerce the worthy couple lived and prospered!\" But ultimately, he thought, Maury's plan of a de facto annexation of Brazil by the U.S. would be attained by other means.\n\nMatthew Fontaine Maury, the celebrated Virginian who had done so much to draw antebellum attention to Brazil, became a staunch Confederate. Though he had touted the Amazon endlessly, ironically his odyssey did not lead to a Brazilian residency\u2014though it still speaks volumes about why this South American nation did not become the mass site of exile that it promised to be and why those who had been so pro-Brazilian slavery were equally anti-U.S. after the Civil War.\n\nNo blurry-eyed idealist he, Maury in the fall of 1860 as war loomed, engaged in hard-boiled speculation about how \"land and Negroes\" would be \"affected by disunion.\" Deciding that \"land and Negroes\" would not be adversely affected by war, Maury sought to devise a plan in Virginia \"of organizing all the remaining white population in the border & tide water counties into a home guard to act in case of inroads & marauders as guerrillas. . . . Gen'l Lee who highly approved of the plan is going to carry it into effect,\" since Maury \"being a cripple\" was unable to effectuate his martial rhetoric.\n\nInstead, Maury became a roving ambassador for the CSA, stirring up trouble for the U.S. in Europe particularly. He became a highly personal antagonist of Lincoln. He prayed and worked for a war between London and Washington, so as to bail out the CSA. Still, while in London he was aggressively \"pursuing . . . researches\" concerning increasing the \"destructiveness of the torpedo\" so as to better destroy U.S. vessels.\n\nFrance was his next stop, where its takeover of Mexico had raised hopes for further assistance to the CSA. But he came up empty there too though he seriously sought \"alliance with France.\" In a breathtaking 27-page document, virtually unrivaled in the annals of those who have sought to destroy the U.S.\u2014and even more ironic given Maury's continuing iconic status in the nation he sought to exterminate\u2014Maury was pointing to a future building of a Panama Canal which would increase immeasurably the value of a California that he was offering to Paris and would, simultaneously, reduce the value of Brazil as a way-station to the Golden State. Yet, despite Ferdinand Maximilian, the Archduke of Austria and new ruler of Mexico, cooing to Maury about his \"flattering\" of him and his \"friendship,\" California was not returned to the nation that once controlled this territory.\n\nBut this was not due to Maury's lack of trying. More than most, Maury had an acute sense of the power of geography\u2014geopolitics, to use the current term\u2014and, as he saw it, the advent of the Panama Canal would be the new link between east and west in North America, thereby reducing somewhat the importance of Cape Horn\u2014and Brazil. California, said Maury to those who intended the U.S. harm, intended to get as much capital from Washington for internal improvements as it could\u2014e.g., a transcontinental railway, which would too reduce the value of Brazil and Cape Horn as a link between the east and west of North America\u2014then bolt.\n\nYet it was hard to place any trust in an inveterate schemer. For just as Maury first plotted against Brazil on behalf of the U.S., then against the U.S. on behalf of the CSA, then against the interests of Brazil, he wound up scheming against his vaunted CSA on behalf of Mexico, offering to join the Archduke in Mexico, when it seemed that his treacherous revolt against Washington was failing ignominiously. Again, this was of a piece with the times, when so many Portuguese nationals, for example, gained U.S. citizenship for\u2014it seemed\u2014little reason beyond facilitating their participation in the African Slave Trade. Citizenship, patriotism, and allegiance to Washington had a different import back then to those who held slavery dear.\n\nThe Archduke remained appreciative of Maury's \"valuable and friendly\" approach, and his \"flattering concern\"; he was \"particularly attracted\" to Maury's \"observations on the present state of affairs in California\" and was \"much indebted\" for his interlocutor's \"frankness and detail.\"\n\nThese glowing words were not enough for Maury so he went a step further. Again, he held out the prospect of Mexico regaining California, which\u2014if it had happened\u2014would have helped to solidify French domination; and, the altruistic Maury would have been graciously willing to volunteer to administer this immense region on the Archduke's behalf. A master of oceanography with vast knowledge of South America, he reminded that iron-clads quietly sent around Cape Horn at an early opportunity would find themselves complete masters of the coast; \"for the Federals have nothing in the Pacific that could cope with them.\" Maury was ready to tender his resignation in the \"Confederate Navy . . . whenever you may require my services.\" Weeks later he repeated to the Archduke, \"I am heartily at your command whenever you may need my services.\"\n\nChickens had come home to roost: The U.S., which countenanced Maury's plotting against Brazil, set the stage for his going over to the CSA, which laid a foundation for his then waltzing into the arms of Mexico. But that last scheme also proved unavailing. By 1865, Maury was searching desperately for a new homeland, aghast as he was at the prospect of returning to the hated U.S. By April of that fateful year, his ward since 1838, J. M. Maury, who had risen to the post of lieutenant in the CSA military, was languishing in a Union prison. \"I am so restless and miserable that I don't know what to do with myself,\" he told his \"father.\" \"I cannot read or eat or sleep . . . this news from the South is so overwhelming! Gen'l Lee surrendered!\" he wailed. \"Who would have ever have thought the noble Army of Northern Virginia would have come to such an end. . . . oh it is sad and humiliating to think of this terrible disaster. To be beaten in a quarrel of our own seeking was bad enough, but to think that all this blood has been shed, all this misery inflicted for nothing, is a sad, sad retrospect indeed. . . . it has almost made me sick. . . . there is a weight at my heart which it seems to me I shall always carry, for how can we ever hold our heads up again, anywhere in the whole world. . . . can't you say something to comfort me,\" he asked Matthew Maury, who so boldly had led the South into war but now was equally bereft of answers.\n\nA few weeks later, Maury was \"off San Domingo,\" on his way to Havana, groaning that \"this Confederacy has come to a miserable wreck\"; Maury was \"utterly astounded at the brick-row tumble of our armies; and at the ignoble end of the Confederacy\"; he was \"grieved and mortified beyond expression.\" He was humiliated by the \"great calamities that have been brought upon us\"; \"the soil of Virginia has now for me no charms,\" he concluded, since \"its future is black with misery and utterly horrid. I have no wish to see it.\" What to do then? \"In my judgment,\" said Maury, \"the only course that becomes them and that is left to those noble sons and daughters who have graced the fall of the noble old state is expatriation,\" i.e., \"finding . . . a new country.\" Since the \"future of every true hearted Virginian is a life dragged out under the yoke amidst secret spies and truculent informers,\" the \"best service that I can make the state is to propose an asylum\" [emphasis-original].\n\nBut where was the question. Just before the war, \"His Majesty the Emperor\" of Russia generously gave Maury a \"diamond broach.\" After the war began, a Russian Grand Duke invited him to live in that nation given \"the present political whirlpool in your country\" and since \"your name is well known in Russia.\" Ironically, Maury who had done so much to trumpet the charms of Brazil chose exile not there but in Mexico, a choice that may have been motivated by his corrosive grudge against Washington and his surmise that Paris\u2014despite his coming up empty there\u2014could inflict more damage on his now despised former homeland. By September 1865, he was in Mexico City encouraging Confederate emigration though his prospectus did not sound enticing, warning as it did about \"guerrillas\" [emphasis-original]\u2014\"to avoid any molestation from these,\" he advised, \"immigrants, especially the first comers, should travel in company and establish themselves, for mutual protection and convenience, in settlements of not less than a dozen or two.\"\n\nStill, Maury may not have ruled out Brazil altogether\u2014or anywhere else on the planet\u2014excepting the U.S., of course. Writing from Mexico's \"Office of Colonization\" in October 1865, he grimaced as he recounted how \"the Yankee papers now have it that 'Professor Maury, the vilest of traitors has asked for pardon.'\" Maury was horrified: \"In the name of Jesus,\" he exclaimed, \"what do I want with a 'pardon.' I have no idea of going to the U. States in the future. . . . I may want to go to the U.S., I may want to go to Siberia\" since \"if colonization fails, Mexico is no place for me\" [emphasis-original].\n\nMaury was floundering; he was \"afraid to leave\" his \"dear wife\" in Virginia, \"afraid,\" as he was, \"of troubles there\": \"I thought England the best place for you to wait,\" he told her. \"I may not come back\" to the U.S., now wavering as he sensed that though slavery may have been banned, Negrophobia had not. \"This thought is way down deep among the remote contingencies of the future. It is not to be mentioned, except with injunctions, even to the most reticent.\" He considered going to \"Halifax to bide my time,\" then was \"consulting\" about \"buying some Cordova land\u2014in the olden times Cordova was the garden spot of New Spain\" but, he said sadly, \"when slavery was abolished suddenly fifty years ago\u2014as with us\u2014down it went\u2014and its splendid haciendas and baronial old mansions are now in ruins.\" He continued to hold out hope for Mexico, though it seemed to be fading fast: \"colonization is not a chimera,\" he insisted: \"We have letters. Thousands are dying to come.\" By December 1865, he was negotiating for a hacienda in Mexico. His son, Richard, was likewise championing emigration since Virginia was deemed \"not a fit place to live in now. All must come to Mexico. If they stay\" a catastrophe of the first order would occur: \"they will [have] to free their nigs\" and, worse, \"will very likely have a nig tax collector coming around.\" The solution: \"set all the nigs free and then bring them along as persons owing passage money to be paid in labour. Then they can be held as peons til the debt is discharged. That is you pay them but can compel them to work for you as long as they owe you money or labour.\" Something similar was proposed for Brazil, but the Empire's reluctance to admit Africans of any kind\u2014free or slave\u2014turned the devious toward Mexico.\n\nThe Maurys were convinced: migration to the region south of formerly Confederate Texas was the refuge of choice, a keen site for the establishment of a \"contra\" base. Hence, in March 1866, Maury was still touting Mexico and denouncing the U.S., \"that Yankee despotism called the Union.\" But soon his fortunes had taken another dip, as in May 1866, \"the banker with whom I had deposited my 'little money' went down in the London panic week before last,\" he groused, \"and I lost all the money & more too that I brought away from Mexico.\" Back at his new Central American home \"intriguers set to work and colonization was going so badly and the opposition [of] the Minister was so vexatious\" that \"immigrants were returning in disgust.\" Now he was contemplating the \"hard blow\" of having \"to give Mexico up.\"\n\nA year later he was back in London, as he continued to find the \"future of the South\" to be \"very dark.\" As he saw it, only slavery\u2014along the lines of Brazil\u2014could save the South, otherwise the dreaded social equality would ensue. \"Go among the Pa. [farmers]\" and \"you will [find] the colored labor & the white upon the most perfect terms of equality, and the wife and daughters of the farmer serving meals to them both and standing behind their chairs.\" Maury did not think that \"Va. Gentlemen\" were \"quite prepared for wife and daughter to do that,\" but that seemed to be where the nation he hated was going. \"Barriers have already broken down between the blacks & the whites which two years ago, your wisest statesmen did not have the sagacity to think were in the round of possibilities.\" It was all too depressing. But Maury continued to plot revenge against Washington. In the summer of 1866, for example, Maury's son did \"hear from\" his \"father frequently. He, with my mother and sister are now in Paris,\" he remarked, \"where he was called by the Emperor\" and where he had received funding \"ever since he went over there in '63.\"\n\nMaury was miserable. In 1868, he was still in London complaining about what had befallen his once beloved Virginia. \"The Jamaican planters were paid for their Negroes and had 7 years notice to prepare for emancipation. None of them are there now who could get away. One of them told me last night,\" he said, \"that his plantations yielded him $30,000 a year\u2014that he sold it on emancipation about 30 years ago for $5000 & that the purchaser\u2014his former manager\u2014still owes some $25,000.\" The \"Dutch since that war began emancipated their slaves\u2014in Surinam and Jansen tells me that that colony is already Africanized. The South is no place,\" he concluded, \"for any gentleman with wife and daughters to live . . . nor will it be until the contest is now brewing and going on there between blacks & whites, is finally settled.\" With emancipation Negroes had to depart, as he had proposed in the 1850s or as Webb had proposed in the 1860s, for if they did not, North American would become \"Africanized\" in any case. But where was a man of this opinion to live if the Western Hemisphere was his goal?\n\nBy 1870, Maury was continuing to carp. \"Napoleon has brought his dynasty to an end,\" he said mournfully, \"as ingloriously as Jeff Davis did the Confederacy.\" But by then, he had made his peace and was back home, teaching at the Virginia Military Institute in Lexington, though he was continuing his dream of moving, \"I suppose to Florida, perhaps to Cuba.\" But if his oldest son's views reflected his father's, Maury would not be happy in the remaining slave citadels of Havana or Rio de Janeiro. \"Did you ever fall in with an educated Frenchman who was not an infidel\" [emphasis-original], Richard Maury asked his father. \"If you have, you are more fortunate than I have been. It may be all prejudice but I have a very poor opinion of every country save those where the [majority] of believers are Protestants\" [emphasis-original]; it was a \"very special Providence,\" he added consolingly, \"that carried you away from Mexico & that prevented your linking your fortunes with those of L. Napoleon.\"\n\nMaury's peregrinations in Western Europe were far from innocent. After Appomattox, \"he felt himself at liberty to impart to the sovereign[s] there the secret of his discoveries concerning his new made science\" of perfecting torpedo destructiveness. \"Most of the European powers sent representatives to his school of instruction\u2014all of them have built upon his beginnings, the most powerful branch of their naval armaments. To France he [also] imparted his secret,\" his son, Richard, confessed, thereby jeopardizing the security of the nation, the U.S., he had come to loathe.\n\nF. H. Farrar of Point Coupee, Louisiana, also wound up in Mexico where he observed presciently of the U.S. in 1866 that the \"time is not far distant when the West and South, politically united will control this government for many a year to come.\" Certainly the reactionary politics of Maury, who sought to deport U.S. Negroes to Brazil, then sought to split California from the Union, was not inimical to a subsequent conservative upsurge.\n\nMaury's odyssey was emblematic of those of his persuasion and generation. He first saw Brazil as a \"safety valve,\" sensing that the system of slavery could not survive unless it could expand. Then he signed on to the quixotic CSA, which sought to build slavery in one nation in a nation based on slavery. Then he tried to return California to Mexico with himself as ruler. He found no solace in London and, finally, returned home to a changed Virginia. Why not move to Brazil where slavery survived? The prevalence of a reviled popery was one deterrent, no figment for a man who descended from Protestants and who had endured unpleasant times in France. Like so many others, Maury found it hard to accept the eradication of the socioeconomic system that was slavery\u2014and its complement: the African Slave Trade. Yet the dilemma of Maury and other rebels was more intractable: for they had to make the severe adjustment to accepting as human what had theretofore been treated as a commodity. The more profound adjustment sheds light on why Maury would seek to ally with France and Mexico against the U.S., while still others would seek to bolster Brazil as the ultimate redeemer of slavery and the African Slave Trade. Moreover, by the time Maury discovered that he was virtually a man without a country, the death of Reconstruction was returning Virginia to a time that he found much more agreeable, a situation that was impelling more migrants to Brazil to return to their erstwhile homeland.\n\nThough the statue to Maury in Virginia has yet to be toppled, he was emblematic of the treasonous anti-Washington sentiments that animated the Civil War. Like those thousands of rebels who fled the U.S., he was also symptomatic of the fluidity of citizenship that was not unusual during this time, a fluidity that facilitated anti-government revolts or, in an earlier day, facilitated switching flags in midocean in order to more effectively participate in the African Slave Trade. Yet these rebels came to find that the despised U.S. had certain attractions\u2014the English language, an advanced infrastructure, a significant number of Protestants\u2014that Brazil's tolerance of slavery could not overcome, and even that \"advantage\" was eroding rapidly.\n\n## **11  \nThe End of Slavery and the Slave Trade?**\n\n\"Steve\" was a freed Negro from the U.S. said to have \"come with his former master Judge Dyer\" to Brazil after the Civil War. But like many migrants, Dyer chose to return to the U.S., so \"Steve continued to work the lumber mill given to him when Dyer elected to return to Texas, and he found it to be very profitable. . . . Steve adopted the surname of Columbus Wasson, Judge Dyer's son-in-law and settled down on the Rio Una north of Iguape to operate his business. Hard work, patience and good sense paid off handsomely\" and \"he accumulated a considerable fortune\"; he became as \"well off\" as a \"Turkish Pasha and died highly respected\"\u2014he \"always held that he was a true American,\" though his surname was now Vass\u00e3o. \"Steve\" was not alone. \"The John Cole family of Georgia took one of their former slaves, 'Aunt Sylvy' to Brazil because\"\u2014supposedly\u2014\"'she refused to be left behind.'\" Certainly, \"some of the American settlers who could afford to do so bought or hired Brazilian slaves to assist them in their labors. But the blacks were said to be slow workers and many of them ran away to S\u00e3o Paulo or to other cities.\" Such reactions were an incentive for rebel migrants to arrange for the importation of their \"former\" slaves, even though this was of questionable legality. Just as certainly, some of the rebels \"proposed that the Brazilian Empire encourage immigration of American former slaves because of their superior technical knowledge of cotton production,\" this was a continuation of Maury's old dreams about dispatching U.S. Negroes to the Amazon.\n\nThis chapter concerns the travails of \u00e9migr\u00e9s from the former Slave South in Brazil. Their adjustment was difficult. Some could not accept that those deemed to be Negro in the U.S. seemed to be viewed as being on their level in Brazil. Some could not overcome the formidable barriers of language and religion, while others could not adapt to a level of underdevelopment that was daunting. As a result, a considerable number swallowed their anger and pride and returned to the U.S.\n\nIt is unclear how many U.S. Negroes migrated with their \"former\" masters to Brazil after the Civil War. It is clear, however, that after the Civil War, Washington did make good faith efforts to squash slavery and the African Slave Trade: in June 1870, a pact was forged between the U.S. and U.K. that indicated this trend. Yet, it was striking that as the African Slave Trade was winding down, revving up was the \"coolie\" trade, involving the transport of Chinese laborers globally in conditions that mimicked its predecessor. Even before the end of the Civil War, there were reports of \"two ships\" that \"were supposed to be American vessels sailing under Portuguese colors to avoid . . . capture by the Confederate steamer 'Alabama'\" that stopped in Cape Town on its way from Macao to Havana, filled to the brim with Chinese laborers. Portuguese involvement in the African Slave Trade continued in the 20th century, in any case, and, strikingly, despite Washington's official anti-bondage stance, the U.S. continued to supply Portugal with arms that, presumably, could have been useful in suppressing revolts in Lisbon's huge African colonies by incipient slaves. Indeed, even in the 21st century, there are continuing allegations indicating that not only does the slave trade continue but that there are also more slaves today than there were during the height of the African Slave Trade.\n\nGodfrey Barnsley was born in Derbyshire in Britain in 1805 where he was part of the commercial aristocracy, then moved on to Savannah in 1824. A father of seven, he fought with the CSA at Manassas, an indicator of what he thought was at stake\u2014he controlled 10,000 acres and 24 enslaved Africans.\n\nBut by early 1867, there was a \"cloud of apprehension\" and \"anxious doubt about our political future\"; it \"rests heavily on Georgia and on me alike,\" Barnsley was told, \"and which I strive in vain to shake off, a kind of vague expectation of some painful change.\" The question nagging Barnsley's comrade and other rebels was if \"the radicals [will] be able to effect what they propose? If they do,\" he assured, \"I am sure Brazil or any other land would be the refuge of all who could meet the costs of transportation.\"\n\nBy the spring of 1867, Barnsley's son, George, had accepted this advice and decamped to Brazil. \"There are now nearly 500 emigrants from the South at this hotel,\" he told his father; \"we receive food gratis and lodging also\" and suggestive of how warmly they were embraced, \"this evening the Emperor and Minister paid us a visit\" and both were \"[greeted] by cheers. He is a fine looking gentleman,\" he said of this ruler, \"and is much interested in, especially, our colony. . . . I am sure of success,\" he said manfully, \"and do not regret leaving the States.\"\n\nWhy were so many from the former Slave South in southern Brazil? As J. D. Porter put it, \"the political situation of the South is as bad as its worst enemies could wish, or as our most gloomy fears had foreboded [ _sic_ ],\" thus the migration flow continued, \"contrary to all reasonable expectations these Southern merchants who say that the emigration feeling is somewhat abated and especially as to Brazil.\" He added that \"our leading Southern papers have recently lost all Federal printing by order of the military governors. They are very needy and might accept some from patronage from the Brazilian government,\" not least since Brazil had \"natural advantages . . . over almost any other part of the globe.\" He urged the \"Brazilian government\" to install \"agents in the interior of this country,\" meaning the U.S. \"to encourage and facilitate emigration.\"\n\nJames McFadden Gaston was \"chief surgeon of the South Carolina [CSA] forces.\" Then \"the Reconstruction period was upon them and he knew only too well how it would try men's souls. . . . [his] personal property had vanished and his money was useless, being in Confederate notes\"\u2014what options did he have? Yet, despite the ill-repute in which he was held, still \"it was necessary for Dr. Gaston to make this journey\" to Brazil \"very quietly, because of the suspicion with which all Southern men were watched at this time,\" especially those heading south who were often viewed as so many Coriolanuses, seeking revenge and a base for it. \"His Confederate uniform still worn for lack of other apparel, was a passport among his own people, but might have detained him if he met Federal officers.\" Like others, Gaston was \"able to secure free passage\" in October 1865 from New Orleans south. He was only one among many, indicative of the \"general inclination among Southern people at this time to leave the scene of desolation around them.\" \"There are many reflections crowding upon my mind this morning,\" he informed his spouse in December 1865; high on the list was the \"blending of fear with hope as to your situation in the midst of comparative strangers, and surrounded by a race that has so recently changed its relations to the white inhabitants of the country.\"\n\nJ. Marshall McCue concurred with the views of Gaston, Barnsley, and other migrants. He trumpeted the virtues of Brazil, stressing the \"liberality of the government of Don Pedro . . . the delightful climate and most luxuriant soil, with all the products of our north temperate zone, added to the delightful fruits and vegetables of the tropics, fine water . . . and extreme healthfulness all combined, cause thousands of our down-trodden people, sad as it may be to expatriate themselves and to leave the graves of their fathers and Virginia, proud, glorious noble old Virginia, and to find a home down there. You would be surprised, my dear sir, to learn of the number who not only think of this, but have determined to do so. Your unworthy correspondent is of this number,\" he emphasized. But why? Why travel thousands of miles to a land where the language was foreign and the situation less than steady? \"We are now under a military satrap whose ipse dixit overrides our code,\" said this Virginian. \"I have given my last vote. My bo[y] Sander (exslave) yet in my employ, in the estimation of our masters in Washington, is a better man than your unworthy correspondent. My spirit is too unbending to brook this, to submit to it. I will not do it,\" he stressed [emphasis-original]. \"Painful as I admit it to be, I will not remain in Virginia, but will cast my fortunes with many who have fixed on the sunny lands of Brazil,\" which was \"destined to be one of the greatest wheat growing regions we know of,\" since the \"soil and labor\"\u2014slave labor\u2014\"and climate are there superior to any in the States for producing wheat.\"\n\nHis interlocutor, Cyrus McCormick was dubious, despite McCue's impassioned persuasiveness. Why leave, he mused, since the former slaveholders still held the whip hand and the former slaves were mostly illiterate and poverty-stricken. But McCue was not convinced. \"Your idea of whites of [the] South controlling the voting of the Negroes is quite erroneous,\" he said in June 1867. \"Some of us [thought] so too, but we abandoned the idea some time ago\" for now \"Negroes and low whites are in ascendancy. So our prospects are gloomy in extreme,\" and, he added balefully, \"if I could sell my property for its value, I would go tomorrow\" to Brazil. \"As one of the biggest planters in Alabama wrote me,\" he said, \"'I go to Brazil because I feel satisfied that I will never more be permitted here to enjoy the fruits of my own industry in peace and tranquility.'\" That was not all, as McCue went on to cite words he agreed with zealously: \"'we can't forget the past and I never expect to be reconstructed. It causes my blood to boil and tingle to look upon the Star Spangled Banner, I once loved but will love it no more forever.'\"\n\nLucita Hardie Wait agreed heartily with such sentiments. Hailing from an old Southern family, she was actually born in Brazil after the war. Her great-grandfather, James W. Miller of Gainesville, Georgia, \"had prospered before the war and lost all during the war,\" as \"idle and mischievous savages\" were set \"loose everywhere.\" But like others, she and her family had maintained a \"southern interest in the tropics [that] reaches back into the era of 'Manifest Destiny.'\" And when \"land was offered\" at the \"unbelievable price of 22 [cents] an acre,\" her ancestors hopped on a boat and wound up in \"Santa Barbara, about seventy-five miles southwest of S\u00e3o Paulo, the Chicago of Brazil.\" By early 1867, one of her treasured ancestors observed happily \"'in less than two years we will have paid for the place\" in Brazil \"with the addition of a gin, ginhouse and screw, and eight valuable Negroes.'\"\n\nThis flow of rebels southward was also due in part to a \"Brazilian emigration scheme,\" which was \"carrying crowds of newly-arrived Irish and Southern ex-slaveholders to the slave-working Empire of Brazil. There is a Brazilian emigration society that desires to obtain for that country a new infusion of foreign blood and it has provided $150 gold for each immigrant.\" Many of these emigrants had traveled via New Orleans, \"the majority of them had donned the Confederate gray,\" and the \"majority of them\" were \"from Texas,\" and, thus, had probably experienced life under Mexican rule, under Texas sovereignty, under U.S. suzerainty, then that of the CSA\u2014so what was one more sovereign, what did citizenship mean anyway?\n\nGeorge Barnsley was in S\u00e3o Paulo, site of an ongoing boom. \"Rents are very cheap\"; he had a \"very good house, with four good rooms, kitchen and other rooms for servants . . . all for $3.00 per month. Food is quite cheap. . . . people are extremely kind, in fact, I never knew such hospitality and genuine kindness.\" There were also problems: he was \"invited to a ball given by the musical society at Iguape,\" but he didn't speak Portuguese, which limited his ability to bond. Still, the \"young ladies were very pretty,\" even better, \"some\" were \"quite fair\u2014blondes\"\u2014in fact. Brazil was a \"paradise for idlers\" and, thus, the migrants who were \"displeased\" were \"men who are afraid to work.\"\n\nBy the spring of 1868, George Barnsley had been \"naturalized\" and \"taken the oath of allegiance.\" He was not unwilling to fight for his new nation, noting that \"my two years in the war department in Richmond gave me a very good idea of what men to use in my plans.\" He was \"shocked\" by a murder back in the U.S. and \"was afraid he had been murdered by the Negroes and under the impulse of horror of the thought,\" he \"determined to return to the States at all hazards.\" But he quickly got over this thought and expressed \"no desire to return to the States to live permanently\"; \"if after making money I desire another clime, I will go to Europe,\" he resolved.\n\nBut it did not seem that would be necessary for by early 1872, the younger Barnsley\u2014a medic\u2014was now in Rio de Janeiro and had \"already gained quite as good a reputation here as I had in S\u00e3o Paulo\" and had \"furnished\" his \"house very comfortably and handsomely.\" Julia Louisa Hentz Keyes also traveled from the U.S. to Brazil during this period and she too was initially pleased with what she encountered; she declared, \"we were surrounded by friends, some from the home we had left in Alabama, some from different parts of the Southern States.\" They were from Montgomery, cradle of the Confederacy, Louisiana, Texas, etc.\u2014a \"common interest made us feel near to each other,\" she said. One \"common interest\" was slavery. \"Today Captain Johnson moves to his new home,\" she said in the early postwar period; \"he has bought a large plantation and Negroes.\" His was \"the finest I have seen in Brazil or anywhere else\" with \"6000 orange trees . . . and numberless fruits. Orange trees are so abundant that he has been digging up many from his fields. I have visited several planters in this neighborhood. With one I spent a night and found him more like an American than I have met with in their homes. They speak three, four and five languages and have many things just like Southerners.\" \"Maj. McIntyre has at last, bought a place with one hundred and thirty Negroes,\" she added. \"Capt. Johnson has bought one with fifty seven Negroes\u2014he already had six or eight,\" presumably brought from the U.S. \"Russell has bought a [plantation] and Negroes also.\" Though there was \"an Episcopal Church and English schools in Rio,\" she thought the \"province of Sau (Sao) Paulo will be the great center of American enterprise in Brazil. There are many now located there, planting and prospering and others are going. The Southerners,\" she announced accurately, \"are scattered from the Amazon to Buenos Ayres,\" a distance of thousands of miles. Matthew Maury's oceanographic enterprise had not been unavailing for \"Brazil [was] not near so far from the U.S. as it once was. You can run down in a month from Baltimore very pleasantly for $100.\"\n\nJ. D. Porter of the Slave South joined her in enthusiasm. \"When I reach home,\" one correspondent was informed, \"I shall exert myself in favor of emigration to Brazil and in furtherance of the cause, I trust you will neglect no opportunity to promote the establishment of a line of steam transports directly from the South to Rio de Janeiro.\" Joseph Weed also thought there was good reason for migrating. In 1874, writing from Rio de Janeiro, he found that \"the roads were built by Americans and are owned by them\" and it was \"so profitable an investment that they have become suddenly men of large wealth.\" In 1872, Robert S. Merriwether was elated to announce that the \"profits made in manufacturing cigars must be enormous. . . . Mr. Lane told me that a few of the Confederates about [Santa] Barbara raised some nice Cuban or Paraguayan tobacco and made it up at home; and their cigars became quite the [talk of] Rio; finding their way to the Emperor himself.\" Merriwether, who was on the scene in Brazil, found that \"after the second year the lands are more easily cultivated than those in South Carolina and Georgia.\" He had arrived in 1865 \"and spent some months exploring the country, and selected this province, Sao Paulo &,\" he added triumphantly, \"have no reason to regret my choice.\" Charles Hall was also exuding mirth. This Georgian migrant \"lived on the farm\" of \"about 660 acres\" at \"Bom Retiro\" for \"sixteen years\"; he had roots in Georgia also.\n\nBut soon deep and profound doubts began to intrude on the consciousness of these wayward rebels. One reason among many that Brazil would be so willing to accept these fleeing rebels was because it was then involved in a bloody war with Paraguay and suspected that those with military skills freshly displayed could be of use in this conflict. The rebels, on the other hand, were not as convinced as to why they should flee from the frying pan of one recently concluded war to the fire of a blazing one. Still, CSA General Edward Porter Alexander early on during this war \"had made up my mind that if ever a white flag was raised I would take to the bushes. And, somehow, I would manage to set out of the country & would go to Brazil. Brazil was just going to war with Paraguay, & I could doubtless get a place in their artillery,\" earn credits in turn with the regime, and, perhaps, be in a position to maneuver his new homeland into becoming a powerful antagonist against his antagonist\u2014the U.S.\n\nAlexander was among those who participated directly in two of the transforming events of the hemisphere since the \"Paraguayan war bears the same relation to the history of South America that the American Civil War does to that of North America.\" But, ironically, Africans trumped the rebels in both cases, serving as the decisive force in breaking the back of the CSA, while in Brazil \"serving in the army became identified with the worst forms of slavery,\" guaranteeing opportunists like Alexander would find themselves sharing a trench with those they routinely despised, not least since \"by the second half of 1865 desertion had become a national phenomenon.\" As this was occurring, \"the victory of the Union in the American Civil War had forced powerful Brazilian groups to realize that conditions had so decisively turned against slavery that any explicit defense of the institution should be fruitless. . . . the Brazilian Emperor declared that the direction of events in America compelled the Brazilian government to consider the future of slavery 'because the same thing that happened during the abolition of the traffic should not happen again.'\" So potent was the Paraguayan Question in Brazilian politics then, that the **New York Times** hooted at what they deemed to be the lack of sophistication among rebel migrants, who did not sense this issue. \"How could the promise of a homestead,\" be believed, \"especially when it is known that all lands in Brazil worth anything are monopolized by the slaveholders\"\u2014\"or does there lurk in them, an intention to make recruits of the men thus bound by a bond, and to send them on the scene of the bloody war in Paraguay.\"\n\nHence, the rebels were fleeing to Brazil, often on the premise that they could continue to enjoy the tasty fruits of the labor of enslaved Africans, when Brazil itself was in the process of reconsidering this noxious practice. \"In consequence of the abolition of slavery,\" announced a report filed by Brazil's Foreign Ministry, \"considerable numbers of recent slaveholders in our Southern States contemplate a removal to Brazil where the African race are still kept under the restraints of the 'peculiar institution.'\" \"Many believe,\" said the Reverend Ballard S. Dunn in 1866, \"that foreigners cannot hold property in Brazil; particularly in slaves. This is utterly without foundation,\" he huffed, \"I know many Southern gentlemen, who have bought large numbers of slaves, and much real estate, during the last year.\" He may have had in mind the maternal grandfather of the subsequent advisor to Martin Luther King, Jr., Clifford Durr. James Henry Judkins came from a \"large landowning and slaveholding family\" that was \"unwilling to adjust to the changed South at the war's end and, in particular, refusing to accept the reality of emancipation\"\u2014so they moved to Brazil \"hoping there to reestablish their lost plantation world. He and his colleagues, he later wrote, had 'no faith in their ability to manage freed slaves.'\" This grandfather, said Durr, was the \"'greatest influence on his life'\"\u2014though it was unclear if this were in a wholly negative or positive sense.\n\nBut the rebels could hardly be comforted when Ignacio Barboza da Silva, Brazil's emissary in Washington, remarked contemptuously in May 1865 about the capture of Jefferson Davis, late of the CSA, allegedly dressed in the clothes of a woman; this diplomat did not seem particularly enthusiastic about the fact that \"inveterate prejudice exists\" and \"continues\" in the U.S. \"against\" this reviled \"African race.\" After all, it was not long before the conclusion of the \"war in the United States\" had \"convinced\" enslaved Africans in Brazil \"that they will all be freed,\" according to a Brazilian official in Para, thereby spurring mass discord amongst them and helping to alter attitudes in South America about slavery itself. Not long after that, the Brazilian Andre Reboucas was visiting New York City but due to his modicum of melanin was barred from public accommodations. \"I realized that the reason I was being refused rooms was a problem of color,\" he lamented. He speedily protested to Brazil's Consul who got a room in a \"third class hotel\" for him \"under the condition that I eat in my room and never in the restaurant\"\u2014\"I was obliged to take a bath in a barber shop,\" he added sadly.\n\nThus, the faces of the escaping Confederates were suspended somewhere between a smile at the prospect of abandoning the hated abolitionist U.S. and a frown when they came to recognize that what they thought was an Empire for Slavery was morphing into something else altogether. If they had listened more carefully, these \u00e9migr\u00e9s could have saved themselves a long journey. John F. Pickett, a former Confederate emissary in Mexico, \"believed that no Confederate veteran would find emigration to Brazil acceptable. Brazilians, Pickett contended, lacked the same social prejudices against blacks that were felt by most Southerners.\" In 1866, the Reverend Ballard S. Dunn warned potential Southern sojourners in Brazil. \"The sidewalks of the principal streets being narrow,\" he advised, \"and our hero large and portly, lo! He is jostled, by a Brazilian citizen of African descent: who presumes to apologize, by raising his hat and moving politely on. He has scarcely recovered from this rude shock of free-Negroism, when he espies, at the very next corner, a man, apparently white, conversing upon terms of perfect equality, with another citizen of the same extraction, as black as can be. Here is proof, positive, of the existence of that hateful thing, 'Negro equality.'\"\n\n\"Even the importation of free Africans is prohibited by law,\" declared Brazil's Minister of Agriculture, referring to a long-standing bar. \"On arriving,\" one Northern U.S. journalist wrote jubilantly, the migrant \"finds himself unable to go from place to place without a passport; he can buy slaves for one-fifth part, or less, than the former price [in the] South, but the slave cannot do one-hundredth part as much work as an Alabama cotton slave,\" and\u2014worse\u2014\"he finds officers of Government, at the Custom-house, judges and officers in the army, are colored men. It is endurable to see a white man, or nearly white\" in such posts \"but to see black men among chief officers of Government and owners of slaves, this reverses all former theories\" and was profoundly unsettling. \"And Brazil, that seemed at a distance to be a Paradise, seems on a nearer view to be a Paradise lost\"\u2014yet \"steamer loads of these deceived men [were] coming to Brazil every month only to repeat the disappointments of their predecessors.\" In November 1865, James McFadden Gaston seemed almost stunned when he discovered that \"Negroes are not admitted into Brazil from the U.S. unless born free, even should they be citizens of the latter\"\u2014which meant that seeking to smuggle Negroes into this nation was even more questionable than it might be otherwise. Then a few weeks later, he seemed even more surprised when \"we were called upon in the evening by the Vicar of this municipality, who is a mulatto of more than ordinary intelligence. . . . he is a native of Bahia and I understand,\" he said admitting his ignorance of where he was now residing, \"there are many people there of this mixed blood. The prevalent idea [was] that the dark complexion of many of the people in this warm climate is attributed to climate,\" said this willfully na\u00efve surgeon.\n\nGaston was distraught when he discovered there was a \"very serious difficulty\" that was \"likely to meet our people in the matter of securing a regular and reliable system of labor the cultivation\" of cotton and other crops. \"There are many who may be hired at moderate price, but they are inexperienced in the use of the plow and do not understand the proper use of the hoe, so as to cultivate the cotton to the best advantage. Neither do they have the skill in picking cotton which is found among the Negroes of the South,\" he added in a note of misplaced nostalgia for those they had only recently abused\u2014a note ironically and frequently found among these \u00e9migr\u00e9s. \"In this respect,\" Dr. Gaston added, \"a few of these [U.S.] Negroes would prove very advantageous\" in Brazil.\n\nJulia Keyes concurred with him. The \"Negroes . . . all look cheerful and happy\" she said upon arrival in Brazil. \"We find very little difference between the Negroes here and those in the States except in the amount of work they seem able to do. Our American house servant,\" she sniffed, \"will accomplish more than twice as much without trying.\"\n\nDr. Gaston, who was \"profoundly pro-slavery,\" and whose \"fondest dream was to be a plantation owner in the style of Low Country ante-bellum slave plantations of South Carolina,\" transplanted to Brazil, met a Priest, \"a mulatto of more than ordinary intelligence; but my prejudice to being associated with those having the Negro blood could not be so entirely put aside as to make me feel at ease with this colored gentleman,\" he sputtered; in fact, such bias was \"one of the basic reasons for the overall collapse of any extensive migration of Southerners to Brazil.\" The oft surprised Gaston was taken aback once more \"with the freedom which was allowed some Negro children\" in Brazil \"in coming into the room occupied by the family and with the attention given them,\" whereas such temerity would hardly be tolerated in the Slave South.\n\nCaptain James A. Thomas of the CSA visited Brazil in 1866 with a \"view to migrating to that country, but owing to the mixed race of inhabitants, he thought it an undesirable location to bear his children.\" Julia Keyes was of like mind. While in Rio de Janeiro in 1867, she noticed that \"females could not walk even to visit a near neighbor without a servant in attendance and it was often difficult to tell which was the mistress, their complexions being the same. Among them, however, were some Negroes as black as Ethiopians.\" Ballard Dunn, formerly of the Slave South, then at Iguape, Brazil, \"mocked the Southern emigrant who returned to the U.S. He 'poor mouthed' him because he could not put up with 'Negro Equality' and gave up his efforts to remain in Brazil when confronted by the 'rude shock of free Negroism\"; indeed, \"if one were to select a single factor that truly kept the emigrant Southerner separated, with exception, from the Brazilian world in the arriving and the first generation born in Brazil, it was this cultural question.\" The migrating ancestors of Lucie Hardie Wait \"thought they would buy slaves\u2014and get rich easily\" so \"they bought slaves but could talk to them, only [communicating] by signs,\" which complicated things tremendously.\n\nThe U.S. diplomat James Monroe observed that many of the rebel migrants \"'bought . . . slaves'\" upon arrival but these promptly \"'ran away, and it was not easy to recover them. . . . the fugitives secured places of refuge among their fellow slaves [on other plantations] and the Brazilian planters themselves were thought to be unsympathetic and un-helpful in the work of rendition.'\" The rebels, who may have counted on some sort of \"racial\" solidarity with their Brazilian counterparts, instead discovered ruefully that the \"snobbery evinced by Confederates towards their Brazilian neighbors was reciprocated in full by Brazilian planters who wished to discourage American competition.\"\n\nDr. Gaston detected a \"little feeling of jealousy on the part of those engaged in the cotton culture here, lest an emigration of Southern cotton planters to this country may lead to a cheapening of the article\"\u2014and a worsening of the already tenuous relations between Brazilian and former Slave South planters.\n\nThough some Brazilian elites may have welcomed these migrants, others viewed them as unneeded competition. Thus, Joseph W. Weed found that \"many of the professions cannot be practiced without becoming a citizen of Brazil.\" \"Professional men, doctors and lawyers are required to undergo an examination in Brazil in coming from the U.S.,\" which an aghast Dr. Gaston considered to be unfair\u2014and which also served to foil many potential competitors.\n\nThe recent arrivals were learning quickly that there was real meaning to Brazil being a former Portuguese colony\u2014meaning that included language barriers and more. \"I have been so surprised to find so few Negro laborers outside of the coffee houses, as compared with what I expected,\" said the visiting Southerner, Joseph W. Weed, in 1874, sounding disappointed. \"The Portuguese, about 10,000 of whom come over annually, have almost driven the darkies out of the city & [supplanted] his place as a laborer,\" he said, sounding disappointed, \"while the value of the Negro has risen & has been taken to the interior plantations, to grow coffee.\"\n\nThe visiting scholar from the U.S., Louis Agassiz, accompanied by his spouse, Elizabeth, sensed these changing tides during his post\u2013Civil War sojourn in Brazil. \"Captain Bradbury asked the proprietor of the island whether he hired or owned his slaves. 'Own them\u2014a hundred and more; but it will finish soon,' he answered in his broken English. 'Finish soon! How do you mean?'\" he was asked. \"'It finish with you, it finish here, it finish everywhere.' He said it not in any tone of regret or complaint, but as an inevitable fact. The death-note of slavery in the United States was its death-note everywhere. We thought this significant and cheering,\" the couple opined. The message they were bringing back home was contrary to what had propelled the Confederates southward. \"We may have something to learn here in our own perplexities respecting the position of the black race among us,\" they said; \"the absence of all restraint upon the free blacks, the fact that they are eligible to office, and that all professional careers are open to them, without prejudice on the ground of color, enables one to form some opinion as to their ability. . . . the result is on the whole in their favor\" since Africans did \"compare well in intelligence and activity with the Brazilians and Portuguese,\" though since the latter were a \"less energetic and powerful race than the Anglo-Saxon\" and since slavery was \"more odious\" than in the U.S., it was unclear how universal were their maunderings, it was thought. Racial biases against Africans were colliding with ethnic biases against Brazilians and Portuguese.\n\nThe perceived antipathy of Brazilian planters complicated further the tangled stay of the migrants. Besides having to adjust to being thrown into intimate gatherings with those who back home would have been deemed to be mere Negroes, the Southern sojourners had a more basic and formidable obstacle\u2014language. \"The greatest trouble to an American is the language,\" concluded Julia Keyes, for \"until he learns it he cannot succeed well at anything without assistance or at any rate, he labors under a serious disadvantage.\" Dr. Gaston studied French while en route to Brazil which \"served as a means of communication in polite society or at court,\" then \"quickly picked up Portuguese phrases\"; but \"his wife, coming later, never obtained good use of the language\" though he was \"able to take the oral and written examination\" for his profession and \"to write his thesis credibly in the Portuguese language.\" \"The Southerners are the Jews of the American Republic,\" announced the **New York Times,** \"and yet they will never find a home in foreign countries where a different language, other customs and the want of means prevent a barrier to their welfare.\" Diehards, who no longer could stomach the hegemonic Northern states, were \"more inclined to go to California, Texas and the northwestern states,\" said J. D. Porter of Alabama, than \"Brazil and some even incline towards Honduras,\" for \"until recently Brazil was a terra incognita to most of us,\" not least due to the language barrier.\n\nSome might have wished they had gone to Honduras instead of Brazil. One recent migrant complained that he had \"failed in [the] cotton crop the past season owing to a drought of seven weeks\" and would not \"make more than 1\/2 bale per acre of cotton.\" He began to wax nostalgic in this pivotal year of 1876, offering \"hope\" that the \"South may obtain all she may desire or expect to obtain in this election,\" while adding morosely, \"I feel quite lonesome, so far from all relatives or old acquaintances and now never expect to meet any of them again.\" Even Dr. Gaston, who adjusted better than most, having picked up Portuguese, admitted that he was \"often sorely tempted to despondency. Again and again he hoped for mail, only to be disappointed.\"\n\nSoon the inevitable occurred. Disgusted with the underdevelopment of Brazil compared to the U.S., upset with the state of race relations, unable to communicate in an alien tongue, bothered by the often less than friendly attitudes of the locals, and often bordering on misery, a growing number of rebel migrants swallowed their corrosive doubts about the U.S. and returned to their homeland. Such returns were often blared in the **New York Times,** that was far from friendly to the CSA, in any case. \"There arrived at the Central Hotel [in Montgomery] last night a party of ladies and gentlemen who left Brazil last month,\" it was reported in August 1867; \"they give affecting and pitiful accounts of the sufferings of many hundreds of deluded Southerners,\" recounting that \"there is no regularly organized Government in Brazil\u2014there is no society.\" One among them, \"Capt. Jack Phelan, who is so well-known and admired in Montgomery, has, we learn, left with a large number of other young men, to make California their home.\" Rebel colonies had been established throughout the hemisphere, including Mexico, Honduras, and \"the village of San Javier in the Argentine Republic\" but it was \"Brazil that promised the most, and perhaps led to the bitterest disappointment. It is from Brazil that have now returned, disheartened and disgusted, six score of those colonists who left comfortable homes here in 1867,\" it was said in early 1870.\n\nThis souring was mutual. General Wood, who had been greeted so effusively in Brazil, turned up in Natchez where he was \"elected County Attorney\"\u2014\"sic transit Gloria Braziliensis\" was the response in Brazil. More specifically, the Vice Consul in New Orleans of Brazil, informed his Foreign Ministry that \"W. W. Wood, soi dissant General is, [we] learn now in the city of Natchez. . . . he has delivered some public lectures upon Brazil, since his return but I cannot learn of his having made any movement relating to immigration to that country. He does not appear to enjoy the esteem of the better class of the population of Mississippi.\" Even then, in May 1866, migrants were still leaving for Brazil from this busy port, including a \"highly respected sugar planter. . . . several families in all some 30 persons, mostly planters from the western part of Louisiana\"\u2014but already opinions of such an exodus were being transformed.\n\nOne source in Rio de Janeiro in the year following these migrants leaving said that \"we regret to say that many mere speculative Americans have been attracted hither by this liberality and kindness of the Government towards their countrymen and look upon it as a mine from which they can dig out favors and subsidies, on specious pretexts and without the slightest wish or intention to serve their emigrating countrymen or Brazil.\" Worry was now arising that \"the immigration which was calculated at first hundreds will be thousands, perhaps tens of thousands,\" thus reaffirming that old saw about being careful about what is desired. There was, for example, Charles Edward Lewis Stuart, \"calling himself General of the late Confederate army,\" who had \"forged\" and was also \"swindling by false representations.\"\n\nThe grumbling soon became louder. \"What can it be which makes United States diplomacy unappreciated and unsuccessful in every country?\" it was asked querulously. \"Is it that the 'Manifest Destiny' is inscribed too strongly in the demeanor and language of their diplomats,\" i.e., \"the intention of its rulers to imitate the policy and the example of its Roman predecessor.\" And what about the \"Monroe Doctrine,\" now \"openly avowed to mean nothing short of the absorbing of all the independent American states into the northern republic.\" Worry was expressed about Washington's view of the all-important war in Paraguay. Thanks but no thanks was Brazil's terse and telling reply to the U.S. offer to mediate this conflict.\n\nWhy should Brazil trust the U.S., a nation with a sworn policy of anti-slavery? Consider that in 1873, President U.S. Grant\u2014who had led the victorious Union army against the de facto Brazilian ally, the CSA\u2014entertained the revival of the age-old Radical Republican dream of placing a \"discriminating duty on slave-grown products\"\u2014a measure that had Brazil in the crosshairs. It would be beneficial, the cigar-smoking, whiskey-swilling President was told, \"not only for its political effect at home\" but, as well, \"it would promote, greatly stimulate in fact, the culture of sugar in Louisiana, Texas and Florida.\" As for the negative effect on Brazil, well, it was said, this nation was \"profiting from us immensely from its sale [of coffee], the proceeds of which go mainly to purchase British goods,\" and, thus, merited no special favors. \"The world would look with favor\" upon this special duty and, besides, it would \"protect our freedmen from the unpaid labor of foreign slaves.\" In other words, the U.S. was placing pressure on Brazil to alter its economy fundamentally and profoundly. Typically, this line was bolstered in the **New York Times** as a prominently placed interview asserted that a duty on slave-grown products \"would promote\u2014greatly stimulate in fact\u2014the culture of sugar in Louisiana, Texas and Florida.\"\n\nThis proposal was not unusual. After abolishing slavery, the U.S. advocated for Brazil to do the same, not least so it would not gain a competitive advantage in certain markets, just as after London barred slavery it sought to squelch the African Slave Trade. Thus, as early as 1867, James Watson Webb declared that Brazil, being \"next to ourselves, the great power on the American continent,\" was \"in imitation of us\" \"considering the means of immediately commencing the gradual manumission of her slaves.\" The blunt Webb suggested, \"let her begin the work by at once manumitting 50,000 of her able-bodied Negroes. Let her, if need be, follow our example [ _sic_ ] and _buy_ them from their masters at our bounty rate of $1000 per head, give them freedom, and make them earn that freedom as soldiers and as freedmen\" [emphasis-original], for\u2014he said definitively\u2014\"there can be no doubt that Brazil will get rid of slavery altogether within the next 30 years.\" As he saw it, the \"Emperor\" was \"the head and front, the very soul of the movement for the emancipation of all slaves within thirty years\u2014the work to commence now, by immediate legislation. Of course, if he should abdicate, the movement ceases, and therefore the advocates of the slave interest would be well pleased to get rid of him on any terms. They'll not succeed,\" said Webb confidently though if the rebel migrants had anything to do with it\u2014many of whom had come to Brazil precisely because it perpetuated slavery\u2014the Emperor would not succeed.\n\nThus, \u00e9migr\u00e9s from the former Slave South, were increasingly being seen as a threat to the security of the U.S. Perhaps, not coincidentally, the Northern U.S. press at this moment began to unleash an inundation of inflamed accounts about their plight and the presumed questionable occurrences in Brazil itself, e.g., their \"national currency\" being \"more extensively counterfeited than that of any other country in the world.\"\n\nThe **New York Times** informed its readers in May 1871, of \"established colonization agencies in New York, Richmond, Savannah, Mobile and New Orleans\"; the **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** published in Brazil, was designed with these potential migrants in mind. Soon a \"number of very estimable gentlemen, among whom were tobacco growers from Virginia, Alabama and Mississippi and extensive sugar planters from the famous Red River district of Louisiana and Middle Texas . . . emigrated with their families to the provinces of Sao Paulo and Espiritu Santo, in lower Brazil. Whole districts of the finest land in the South, from Maryland to Texas, were sacrificed for a mere song. Entire counties were almost completely depopulated by the great exodus of reputable emigrants and disreputable adventurers.\" But soon, said the **Times,** Brazil began to sour on these sojourners as they \"refused to comply with their contract by colonizing the interior, and remained in the vicinity of the capital, eking out a miserable existence, as best they could. After making the City of Rio a perfect pandemonium for nearly two years, they were sent home at Government expense. . . . these misled people have since learned a terrible lesson of sad experience,\" as \"every day in the gay thoroughfares of the Brazilian Capital, are to be seen hundreds who have, years gone by, reveled in luxury and affluence, and who are now actually begging from door to door and making a poor, pitiful effort to drown their miseries by spending the pittance thus obtained in the nearest drinking booth, where potent libations of villainous _aguadiente_ \u2014the vilest decoction in Christendom\u2014is peddled for the smallest fraction of a cent.\" In sentence after sentence, this journalist heaped mounds of scorn on this exile:\n\nThe writer of this sketch was walking down the Rua Dereita, the great boulevard of Rio de Janeiro, one evening last January, when he was [intercepted] by a miserable, ragged and squalid-looking object, who implored him, \"for God's sake, give me only a _vinte_ (less than a quarter of a cent) to get something to eat.\" The wretched man said that he had been in Brazil four years. He had left a young wife and child in Baltimore, and had emigrated with many others, whom he said were then as destitute as he, hoping to repair his fortunes, but instead, he had been going rapidly down hill ever since he had first landed on Brazilian soil. The gentleman . . . said that he was a graduate of the Jefferson College Medical School in Philadelphia, and had at one time a large and lucrative practice in Richmond, Va. When reaching Brazil he had at first endeavored to practice medicine among the American colonists of the Sao Paulo province but the colonists were as poor as he, and he was finally compelled to return to Rio de Janeiro sick at heart and much more sick in body. Wandering about the dingy streets . . . he at last applied to the city authorities for employment [and] accepted work on the public highways.\n\nShortly thereafter, he was \"found dead in a filthy hovel in an obscure section of the city. Being a Protestant he was denied a Christian burial by the ecclesiastical authorities.\" Worse was to come. \"In a remote quarter of one of the lowest precincts of the capital is a rickety little building\"; \"over the door of the dilapidated hovel is a sign in glaring capitals\" reading \"'the Dixie Free and Easy Concert Saloon.'\" There \"as vile a set of scoundrels as ever cut a throat, is all that remains of a man, who was once a might among his people\u2014a man who has been the Mayor of one of the principal cities of the United States, and also a prominent officer in the Southern army.\" Nearby in \"the penal colony of Ferdinand de Naronba are two or three gentlemen criminals who were once respected citizens of the South, but who, having lost all their worldly possessions in the United States, were tempted to emigrate to Brazil by visions of speedy affluence and freedom from toil\" by dint of slavery. They \"recklessly plunged into an abyss of fraud and forgery, and as a consequence are now enduring a miserable existence on the lonely island of Naronba as Brazilian convicts. A very intelligent gentleman who was formerly an extensive sugar planter on the Bayou Sara in Louisiana, recently stated, while on a visit to Rio from his new home in the province of Sao Paulo, that he was not alone among the Southern colonists when he said that he was intensely disgusted with the country and would willingly return to his good old home in Louisiana if he had but the means.\" In painful detail was recounted the story of the \"seizure . . . of two daughters of a prominent citizen of Memphis\" and \"the subsequent enslavement of the fair Southerners, to satisfy the cruel claims of a hard-hearted Brazilian, to whom the father had become peculiarly indebted for a large amount.\"\n\nGodfrey Barnsley, the Georgian migrant from a family once rich in enslaved Africans, took umbrage to this widely circulated article, as did many of his fellow \u00e9migr\u00e9s. Contrary to the reporter's observations, Barnsley was outraged about the explosive allegation that \"white men's daughters and Americans were sold.\" The \u00e9migr\u00e9s were wounded by the idea that they had descended downward on the level of civilization by moving to Brazil; \"it is a great mistake,\" he said, \"to consider this country in a semi-barbarous condition\" for \"to say that white people are sold is beyond measure stupid; it is not even calumniative [ _sic_ ], for that word carries an idea of some basis to the assertion.\" He disputed the notion that the Emperor himself was pro-abolitionist; he spoke of how \"well\" these colonists were doing, though he acknowledged that \"more than a hundred Southerners went to Espiritu Santo\" and now \"that colony is totally abandoned\"; and, yes, in the \"Rebeira Province\" of S\u00e3o Paulo, \"three distinct colonies\" were now \"totally deserted.\" But what about \"Santa Barbara, S\u00e3o Paulo,\" where \"250 to 300, babies included,\" were doing fine, with some, he stressed, \"accumulating riches.\" The idea of \"seeing hundreds of Americans in Rio destitute\" was \"simply false\" and those seen in such a state were \"not Americans\" [emphasis-original] but \"mostly Irish, and it is possible the greater part of them were particular pets of the New York police.\" It was \"true that the Brazilian Government sent them back to the States, as rubbish\" but they were not \"Americans.\" However, reality was hard to ignore, even for the ideologically committed, so Barnsley's defense was as damning as the original indictment. \"I will state candidly,\" he said, \"that a greater portion are discontented and propose eventually to return to the States and for that end are saving\" [emphasis-original] because of \"dissimilarity of language and customs; difficulties of transportation, low price for skilled labor; difference in religion; inability to vote and be 'sovereigns'; disgust\u2014for the Brazilian idea that a man who sweats from work is not a gentleman; and finally\u2014the most potent of all\u2014that this country offers and gives nothing for the American, which he cannot get in his own country.\" Thus, \"more than two thirds of them that have come have already returned,\" and the \"rest may be expected to follow, sooner or later.\" Barnsley himself gave up valuable ground to Brazil's detractors by acknowledging \"I am no lover of these people and though naturalized, intend to return to the States at an early date.\"\n\nBut what seemed to irk Barnsley was not the alleged inaccuracies in accounts of what was happening to rebel migrants in Brazil, but the general inattention in the U.S. itself to events in its neighbor. \"There are eight or more superb packet lines to England, France, Italy and Germany, and only one to the States\" [emphasis-original]\u2014and this one \"receives a subsidy from the Brazilian Government to enable it to continue. Europe furnishes iron, coal, dry goods, wines, fancy articles, all kinds of machinery, carriages, etc. America sends flour and patent medicines!\"\n\nThat Barnsley would be compelled to give resonance to some of the most damaging allegations made about the migration to Brazil served to underscore how ill-fated this adventure was. For in his private moments he acknowledged that he and many others were enduring a painful adjustment to this new land. \"The whole country is infested with ants,\" there were \"scarcely any vegetables for sale,\" \"the only fruits are oranges and bananas,\" there were \"scarcely any flowers,\" the \"only fare is beef, rice and beans, with once in a while potatoes and yams.\" Barnsley was a doctor and he was disgusted that among those claiming this lofty title in Brazil was a \"pure charlatan without the least knowledge of the profession of medicine, yet to these men are entrusted the lives of the miserable slaves, simply because they think it economical.\" \"Almost everything comes from abroad which is used for clothing, for house use, for agricultural use,\" which was a \"great drawback.\" The culture was oppressive. \"Another great restraint to my happiness,\" he complained, \"is that a stranger cannot become intimately acquainted with the Brazilians unless he becomes identified with them in customs, bragging and lying\"; \"among the women,\" there was \"no education, and having nothing to do except scandalize, if one tries to become intimate his life is rendered a constant torment.\" Thus, he had kept his family \"apart, as much as possible.\" Education among men was little better, as they were \"very superficial and rarely one encounters a person who can hold a conversation on any subject beyond the more commonplace of affairs of daily life.\" \"I am wasting away precious years,\" he cried, \"I must get away from this country as soon as possible. This desire is the grand absorbing aim, to which everything else becomes subsidiary\" [emphasis-original]. But as time passed, he found himself \"doomed to remain in this country for years yet. . . . my heart yearns once more to be among my own people. . . . I grow sad and sickened with my lot.\" How could he be so \"foolish as to enter into voluntary exile,\" which had contributed to \"pecuniary embarrassment\" since his \"whole career in Brazil has been one continued misfortune dragging to the ground every time I attempt to rise.\"\n\nBut being blunt, Barnsley could not ignore that a bunch of slave-holders were not humanity's best advertisement. \"The conduct of Americans in Brazil has not been creditable to themselves or to the nation which they represent,\" he admitted; they \"swindle when they get a chance\" and the Brazilians not being \"a stupid people\" were \"fast learning\" this.\n\nThis dispirited adventure of Confederates in Brazil was reassuring to the national ego of the U.S. but in a contradictory manner. It served to discredit slaveholders and slavery which both the CSA and Brazil represented, while it buttressed rudimentary notions of white supremacy, which their South American neighbor was thought to have violated by not penalizing sufficiently \"inter-racial\" sexuality. Writing from the U.S. legation in Rio de Janeiro in the summer of 1871, James R. Partridge seemed almost heartened to find of the \"between three and four hundred\" rebel migrants \"self-exiled\" in S\u00e3o Paulo, \"very many\" were now \"exceedingly anxious to avail themselves of the generosity of our Government, which they are now glad to call their Government also, to return to the home they left.\" They had \"lost everything,\" he said, were \"without employment or the means of returning.\" He was \"aware\" that to \"relieve persons . . . from the consequences of their deliberate folly in leaving their own country\" was a discomfiting signal to transmit in a nation grounded in the idea of personal responsibility for one's actions; and \"if men alone were concerned,\" he would be \"silent,\" but there were too many \"women and children\" involved to do so. While in Para, the U.S. emissary found exiles in \"destitute circumstances,\" both \"dissatisfied\" and \"living frugally,\" all of which underscored the value of remaining true to the U.S. itself. Back in the U.S. newspaper columns were filling with tales of exiles returning disgusted with their Brazilian experience\u2014though their reluctance to repudiate slavery itself meant the U.S. Negro would have been served better by their absence.\n\nTreating the bedraggled return of these former exiles as the final victory of the Civil War, in late 1875, the **New York Times,** exaggerating for dramatic effect, found \"something significant in the return to the United States of the last detachment of the American emigrants to Brazil. . . . no such exodus had ever taken place from\" this country, thus distinguishing the loyalist exile after the Revolution since these were actually British nationals who chose to remain so. \"Some timid people,\" it was announced victoriously, \"affected to see in this migration the beginning of a depopulation of the lately rebellious States. The total strength of the movement was finally put at fifteen hundred. It now appears likely that not one-half that number were left\" in Brazil, a nation whose \"primitive business habits . . . seem excessively wasteful and dilatory.\" But now a benevolent Washington \"sent men-of-war after the Southern fugitives. But they were sent in answer to a call for help, not in anger,\" i.e., as reconciliation between the former Slave South and the North at the expense of the U.S. Negro.\n\nThus, as the **New York Times** put it, 750 out of an estimated 1500 U.S. nationals remained in Brazil as the pivotal year of 1876 approached. This may have been an underestimation, a reflection of the Northern press's antipathy to these \u00e9migr\u00e9s and their concomitant desire to downplay their significance. The \u00e9migr\u00e9s provided lethal ammunition to their detractors with their incessant complaining and their festering anti-Washington sentiments. Still, the devolutionary spiral of slavery in Brazil meant that any dream of restoring the equivalence of African and chattel was rapidly coming to a close.\n\n## **Epilogue**\n\nDespite the return to the U.S. of so many disgruntled exiles, others remained in Brazil where they continued to shape their new homeland, just as they had molded their old. Thus, \"when a Senator opposed to slavery was assassinated on the eve of Brazil's emancipation\" in 1888, \"the Confederados\"\u2014as they came to be called\u2014\"were at first suspected.\" Those with U.S. ties may have been innocent in this instance but others were a more troublesome presence in Brazilian internal affairs. In early 1888, a \"police delegate of the municipality who sympathized with the antislavery movement was sheltering refugees in his home.\" This was at a time when many plantations were \"being abandoned\" in anticipation of slavery's 1888 demise and, thus, \"angry slave proprietors decided to take action. They were led by two naturalized Brazilians, James Ox Warne and John Jackson Clink, immigrants from the United States, who had fought for the Confederacy during the Civil War. The two incited the planters by telling them that they had 'cockroach blood' and that under such circumstances a revolution would have occurred in any other country.\" They \"bludgeoned\" the \"young man to death,\" along with others deemed to be abolitionist sympathizers.\n\nAs early as 1867, the exile, John Codman, had signaled that many of his fellow \u00e9migr\u00e9s would not be enthusiastic about the demise of slavery\u2014and the concomitant final strangulation of the African Slave Trade\u2014in their new homeland. \"Soon the pressure of the abolition party in Brazil, aided by the influence of Brazil and the United States, will terminate slavery altogether,\" he said with rancor, referring to \"the anti-slavery party\" as \"already a disturbing political element.\" \"The shock upon society will not be so great there as it has been here,\" he added generously, \"and the absence of distinctions of color [ _sic_ ] will aid in incorporating the black into the body politic,\" though he warned that \"coming as we did from a country where we knew too well how much of the pretended love for the Negro has emanated from that political ambition which has made him the mere tool for the purposes of party and of power,\" he advised Brazilians to adopt an alternative course.\n\nThe Confederates had seemed to be a people without a nation\u2014or a hemisphere\u2014as their attempt to revive the \"peculiar institution\" ran aground on the shoals of Brazilian abolitionism. Unwilling to reconcile with abolitionism, they had even more difficulty adapting to a substantive role for the formerly enslaved in politics. The latter did not make it easy for them, for as in the U.S. they came to take quite seriously their newly forged citizenship rights. Thus, in April 1869, a group of African-Americans petitioned President Grant; they wanted some of their number to be appointed not only for diplomatic posts in Liberia, Haiti, and other Latin American nations but, as well, wanted their leader\u2014Frederick Douglass\u2014appointed Minister to Brazil, indicative of their viewing this South American nation as part of the Pan-African world.\n\nAs was to happen so often in coming decades, these petitioners were to be sorely disappointed. For continuing the antebellum tradition of appointing \"reliable\" white Southerners as chief diplomats in Brazil, the revival of this practice after the war was a troubling signal that though slavery and the African Slave Trade might have virtually disappeared, the ideology that underpinned both was very much alive. Thus, with Reconstruction's demise, dispatched to Brazil was Henry W. Hilliard, a \"strong, unrepentant rebel\"; in fact, \"there was not in the city of Augusta in the Summer of 1865, after the termination of the rebellion, a more decided rebel than this man Hilliard\"\u2014he was a \"'last ditch rebel.'\" Hilliard, born in Cumberland County, North Carolina in 1808, was admitted to the bar in Athens, Georgia in 1829, and in 1831 was \"elected to a Professorship in the University of Alabama\" before Jefferson Davis \"commissioned him as a Brigadier-General in the Provisional Army of the Confederate States.\" A self-described \"Union man\" wrote in anguish about the \"active part taken by\" Hilliard in \"causing the separation of the state of Tennessee from the Union in 1861\"\u2014the \"union men of 1861 are indignant and ashamed,\" it was said, \"that such a person should represent in a foreign country the Government they loved more than life.\"\n\nHilliard sought to reassure the doubting, issuing a \"long statement as to the industrial results of emancipation\" in the U.S.; his \"able and temperate letter, coming from a Southern man who was engaged in the rebellion,\" said one news report in 1880, \"has greatly encouraged the friends of immediate emancipation in Brazil, while it has somewhat offended the Brazilian Bourbons. It is also pleasant to remark that the Emperor thanked Mr. Hilliard for his letter.\"\n\nEven the approach of abolition in 1888 did little to alter the reinstated policy of sending white Southerners to represent U.S. interests in Brazil, reversing the wishes of African-American petitioners. Thomas J. Jarvis of North Carolina represented a tightly woven strand of U.S. representation\u2014\"reliable\" white Southerners providing undistinguished leadership. \"I would gladly [trade] the magnificence of Rio for the simplicity of home,\" he said at one point, \"and when I say home I mean North Carolina.\" He had expected a \"seat in the President's Cabinet\" but he was \"under obligation to the Party\" and was \"bound\" to accept the post in Brazil. \"I did not desire this place,\" he wailed, and wanted the \"Party\" to \"withdraw\" his \"name\" but he was refused, and though he found \"Petropolis\" to be \"the prettiest mountain city I ever saw,\" Jarvis's stay marked the beginning of a new trend in U.S.-Brazilian relations, whereby the inflamed issues of enslavement and the African Slave Trade were no longer the defining characteristic and third-rate politicians had to be cajoled to move southward.\n\nEven before the advent of abolition in Brazil, U.S. emissaries were getting increasingly grumpy about Brazil. Reporting from Rio de Janeiro in 1879, John C. White, was not sympathetic to his host country, remarking that \"with the exception of the blacks, Brazilians do not perform manual labor, and very few of them are engaged in trade\"; a \"professional existence or a political office is the wish and work of the Brazilian.\" Yes, it was \"popular to say that this country is an Eldorado for Americans with energy and money and many American newspapers have pictured Brazil as the land of plenty,\" but he disagreed. \"Eventually the trade of this country will be controlled by our country,\" he predicted, \"but it will take time.\" In the meantime, a replay of previous decades was still in play as Britain and Brazil seemed to be in a virtual marriage: \"English capital, English goods, English subsidized steamship lines, and English influence\" remained to \"be met, checked and overcome.\"\n\nAnother perennial was Maury's dream of having U.S. Negroes develop Brazil. Hilliard reported that \"de Lesseps has applied to the Emperor of Brazil to supply him with laborers\" for construction of the Panama Canal and was informed that \"15,000 Negroes will be furnished . . . under this arrangement.\" Hilliard was dismissive, however, observing that \"the application may have been made but it will lead to nothing.\" Though not enthusiastic about Brazilian Negroes moving closer to the U.S. by coming to Panama, Maury's idea of sending U.S. Negroes to Brazil was another matter altogether. For at that moment a U.S. contractor had \"determined to send colored men to Brazil to work upon the Madiera and Mamore Railroad. It is more than probable that 500 will go out [to] Rio de Janeiro\" and it was added a bit optimistically, \"the Brazilian government will make no objection to their landing.\" \"Over 300\" of these were \"residents of Washington,\" which may have been pleasing to those in the nation's capital concerned with the growing \"colored\" population there. Yet this latest attempt to rid the nation of this problematic population was encountering a familiar roadblock, as the \"contractors for the Brazil railroad\" were informed by \"the Brazilian Secretary of State that colored men would not be permitted to enter the Empire as part of the working force of the contractors.\" Then after that was negotiated, the \"Senate\" had to pass a bill \"authorizing the issue of passports free to colored citizens going to Brazil,\" as the previous $5 charge \"practically prevented many colored men,\" from traveling southward.\n\nAs some in Brazil saw it, these men were \"best fitted for the work, to which the Brazilian Minister in Washington would not consent, he doubting the legality of an introduction of free blacks into Brazil\"; then the \"Government telegraphed last week to declare to him that American citizens, whatever their color, can be brought. This is an important boon,\" it was reported, \"and will greatly facilitate the construction.\" It seemed that Brazil and the U.S. were evolving toward a more \"modern\" conception of the role of the formerly enslaved; i.e., they would not be barred solely because of their color but, instead, could be slated to labor in certain posts precisely because of that still disabling factor.\n\nThen other factors intruded. As excited Negro men began to meet in Washington, this \"gave rise to a report that secret meetings\" were \"being held by the working men of the District in furtherance of a labor strike to be started throughout the country in August next and that these meetings were arranged by representatives of Western labor organizations.\" On the other hand, as \"an impression prevailed that colored men who would go to Brazil would be consigned to slavery, the requisition could not be filled.\" Rather vainly \"the agent explained that Brazil was averse to permitting the settlement of colored men in that country and [that] laws forbid such settlement. These laws, however, have been suspended with reference to such colored men as would go to Brazil to assist in constructing the railroad and those who would go would be furnished passports free by the United States, Congress having passed an act recently for this purpose.\" Pay would be \"$1.50 per day and their expenses to Brazil and return, provided they will remain two years.\" Finally, it was determined that \"about 60 laborers were obtained,\" who would depart soon, which lent optimism that such employment would mean \"labor strikes will be reduced in proportion to the number of idle men that will be given employment and taken from a community largely overstocked with laborers.\" Maury's dream of Brazil as a \"safety valve\" for the U.S. was being realized, albeit not in the manner he originally intended.\n\nBut the difference now was that U.S. Negroes themselves were beginning to look southward longingly, their interest stirred by both the atrocities they were forced to endure regularly and the spotlight being shown on Brazil as a result of the export of black workers to build a railroad. In 1886, the all-black AME Church in the U.S. passed \"resolutions reviewing the history of Negro emancipation in the United States and expressing sympathy with the movement for the gradual emancipation of slaves in Brazil,\" which were \"unanimously adopted. The resolutions were translated into French and an engrossed copy forwarded to the Emperor of Brazil.\" In the year of abolition, 1888, A. A. Jones, a \"prominent colored leader\" in Indianapolis\u2014\"formerly of Virginia\"\u2014declared, \"'we are going to weed some of the Southern States of the colored population.'\" Why? Well, for starters, \"'the Democracy will not let them vote; they do not appreciate the value of colored labor and we propose to get the voters and their families out of the country. . . . we propose to send them to South America. Brazil is the objective point. Everybody down there is dark, and there is no trouble on the score of color. We will get many of them away this summer,'\" he said sanguinely. \"'Missouri'\" Negroes would be an initial target. \"'We have enlisted men with money in the enterprise,'\" he added, \"'and we are systematically preparing for the exodus. We will have plenty of funds when the time comes for action.'\"\n\nReverend Jones was not singular in his desire for mass Negro emigration to Brazil. That same year of abolition, 1888, a \"rumor\" reached Washington and Rio about a \"scheme\" said to \"have originated in Topeka, Kansas for starting a great emigration of colored people from the Southern States to South America.\" Apparently, there was a distinct fear of the \"probability\" of these potential \u00e9migr\u00e9s \"being sold into slavery,\" though it was felt that \"President Cleveland's administration would not tolerate such a scheme for a moment.\"\n\nThis was part of a larger \"scheme of colonizing African laborers in South and Central America . . . affecting many states and hundreds of thousands of people.\" \"Several well-known colored men . . . of means met three years ago to consult as to the best method of relieving their people from the condition that prevailed in the extreme Southern States.\" They quickly \"arrived at the conclusion that South America was the land that would give them shelter and a home.\" These men \"all with some wealth and some of them counting with six figures, sent out educated agents,\" as \"the Guianas, Brazil and the Argentine Confederation were examined\"; this was \"quietly effected by a secret organization whose head is in Topeka\" as the idea was to \"carry off more than a million of laborers from the cotton, sugar and rice fields.\" \"Important concessions would be made by the Brazilian and Argentine governments in the way of land and immunity from taxation,\" it was expected, while \"owing [to] the mixed blood already existing in some of those countries their color will not debar them from political and social preferment.\"\n\nThe **Rio Daily News,** which reported this story, was skeptical. \"If these agents visited Brazil,\" it was said, \"they succeeded wonderfully well in keeping themselves and their purposes well out of sight and if any inducements have been offered they have been verbal and through secret channels.\" \"No colony of American Negroes will ever [be] prosperous and contented in South America, especially in Brazil,\" it was predicted confidently. \"The language, laws, customs and institutions of all these countries, except British Guiana, are foreign to them\"; indeed, huffed this journal, \"it is our candid opinion that there is not one single country in South America where they will be treated as well as in the United States.\" Like their Confederate opposite numbers, these U.S. Negroes evidently did not realize that \"without railways, steamship lines, and markets, and without government protection against Indians and lawless characters, the chances of their making even a bare living are very slight\"; \"they cannot expect help from Brazil, for the country is already poor and already overburdened with beggars and parasites. . . . chances are that they will starve or be degraded to the level of the savages about them.\" \"If the American colony at Santarem on the Amazon could not maintain itself, what can the less energetic Negro expect? Every one of the American colonies in this country has failed and disappeared, except that of Santa Barbara and it is certain that no Negro colony can do better.\" Hitting a sensitive nerve, the paper proclaimed, that these Negroes \"may find less prejudice against his color here in Brazil, more opportunities for association and amalgamation, but to gain those he must make infinite sacrifice and suffer infinite loss.\"\n\nBefore this ambitious scheme petered out, it was reported that it was \"making rapid progress\" in \"eight states,\" though skepticism about its prospects reigned. These Negroes were focusing on Brazil and Argentina, \"where they are told that there is no prejudice against their color.\" Settling \"on the highlands of the Southern tributaries of the Amazon, [was] an absurd chimera,\" it was suggested. \"In the end,\" it was said, \"the consulates of the United States in this country, will soon be overrun with destitute Negroes, and the United States government will have to send for them, just as it did for some of the white emigrants after the rebellion.\"\n\nThus, there was no takeoff for this ambitious scheme of colonization though about twenty years later a number of U.S. nationals sought to revive the filibustering of the previous century. For it was in 1907 that \"nine men went to Brazil in November to conquer a state of 2,000,000 inhabitants,\" a plot that also failed miserably. All were \"dressed in khaki uniform of the American army\" and were \"well armed with revolvers and Remington rifles,\" though they were portrayed as mentally unbalanced, others were not so sure.\n\nThough perhaps not lineal descendants, they were, at least, ideological descendants of the \"Confederados\" who had descended upon Brazil in the years following the Civil War. Some among this latter group remained in Brazil as the 20th century wound down and they were carrying on the traditions of their ancestors; thus, \"such words as 'nigger'\" were used \"with the same abandon\" as by their \"slave-owning ancestors\" and they were \"very conservative politically.\" When then Governor Jimmy Carter of Georgia visited Brazil just before his capture of the White House in 1976, he was so \"overcome with the joy of finding an old-time Southern town\" he \"wept.\" His spouse, Rosalynn Carter, \"found the gravestone of an ancestor named Wise.\" Confederate flags continued to flutter in these neighborhoods that time forgot. Some of these descendants had honored their ancestors' pledge to construct a nation to challenge the U.S. that so many of them abhorred. Jose Luiz Whitaker Ribeiro, for example, was President of Engesa, \"Brazil's largest arms exporter\" and a challenger to the U.S. in this lucrative market; he was descended from Joseph Whitaker who had fled Georgia in 1866. This was consistent with the martial and adversarial spirit that had animated the initial wave of Confederate migrants. Interviewed in 1978 in Brazil, Elizabeth McAlpine MacKnight did not seek to prettify the reason her Alabama-born father\u2014who had served as Jefferson Davis's bodyguard\u2014had migrated to Brazil. \"Till the day my father died,\" she exclaimed, \"I reckon he always had a kind of hatred for the Yankees.\"\n\nThus, abolition descended upon Brazil without any mass effort of U.S. Negroes to find a more welcoming home south of the border. If this had occurred, they would have encountered a land that may have perplexed these migrants. For as one analyst has put it, \"the situation in Brazil is better characterized by the saying 'the poor white person is black and the rich [black] person is white.' This comparison might suggest a possible amendment to the African-American perspective 'or I can be black, become rich, go to Brazil and become white!'\" In the U.S. \"no white person can acknowledge any African ancestry, because by definition anyone with African ancestry is black,\" while \"even [former] President Fernando Henrique Cardoso acknowledged having 'um pen a cozinha,'\" i.e., \"'one foot in the kitchen,' an expression referring to his having had a black ancestress.\"\n\nOn 14 May 1888, writing from Petropolis, Thomas J. Jarvis, the U.S. Minister there, still distraught about being away from his beloved North Carolina, noted, almost in passing, \"yesterday the General Assembly of Brazil finally passed and the Princess Imperial Regent approved a law abolishing slavery in Brazil. . . . I therefore do not share in the fears expressed by some as to its immediate effect on the various industries.\"\n\nMeanwhile in Albany, New York, the \"sixty-eighth Annual Conference of the African Methodist Episcopal Church,\" meeting on their nation's national holiday in 1888, designated a committee to \"prepare resolutions to be sent to the Brazilian Minister at Washington, by him to be conveyed to\" the Emperor, \"thanking [him] for freeing the slaves in Brazil.\" And with that a curtain was rung down on one of the more inglorious chapters in their nation's history: the promiscuous participation of U.S. nationals in the African Slave Trade to Brazil.\n\nReportedly, in a 2002 meeting between U.S. President George W. Bush and then Brazilian President Fernando Henrique Cardoso, the former asked, \"'Do you have blacks too?'\" Bush's aide, Condoleezza Rice\u2014who happened to be of African descent\u2014\"noticing how astonished the Brazilian was, saved the day by telling Bush 'Mr. President, Brazil probably has more blacks than the USA. Some say it's a country with the most blacks outside Africa.'\"\n\nThe widespread circulation of this story in Brazil may suggest lingering feelings there about how U.S. nationals transformed the demographic makeup of this South American colossus by dint of the illicit African Slave Trade.\n\nSimilarly, though there is little concern in the U.S. about a real or imagined security threat emerging from Brazil, the reverse is not necessarily the case. Matthew Fontaine Maury and his dream of seizing the Valley of the Amazon may not be forgotten either; a sensitive nerve in Brazil was exposed in June 2005, when it was reported that \"suspicions run wild that 'hegemonic' powers like the U.S. have desires on the vast region,\" meaning the Amazon; \"many are convinced that foreign powers, in particular the [U.S.] are making plans for a takeover of the world's biggest tropical forest to secure the rights to its seemingly limitless natural resources, from wood to gems to medicinal herbs. In a national survey released last month, 75% of Brazilians polled feared a foreign invasion provoked by their country's natural riches.\"\n\nU.S. nationals have continued to stream into Brazil, this time attracted by tourist attractions, particularly the lovely beaches of Rio de Janeiro, once the site of black bodies floating in nearby waters. Reversing the journey taken by Pedro Parris, who was kidnapped in East Africa, then dragged to Brazil before decamping to the U.S. where he became a citizen, the popular U.S. singer, Dionne Warwick, has become something of an \u00e9migr\u00e9 in Brazil, where she maintains a residence. \"Brazil is my real home now,\" she says. \"I love everything about Brazil: the land, the people and the culture.\" She was preceded by the popular jazz clarinetist, Booker Pittman\u2014a lineal descendant of Booker T. Washington\u2014who migrated permanently to Brazil in 1937, where he died in 1969.\n\nFor just as Frederick Douglass and his contemporaries jousted about whether Brazil was a racial \"horror\" or \"paradise,\" this discourse continued in the era following slavery's abolition in 1888.\n\nThe latest African-American to confront this question at length is the prominent **Washington Post** columnist, Eugene Robinson. Posted to South America as a correspondent by this newspaper, he traveled throughout the nation and felt compelled in 1999 to wax at length about what he saw, most notably the parallels. \"Some hear Salvador's music,\" he rhapsodized, \"and think of New Orleans, others meet the city's black intellectuals and think of New York.\" \"There was no shortage of people I'd have classified as white,\" he remarked, \"but they seemed a distinct minority. The acid test, for me, was that most of the people I saw would have looked seriously out of place at an American country club. To the extent that the identity of a nation is equivalent to the identity of its people, then Brazil was by my lights a great black nation\u2014unadvertised as such, but a black nation nonetheless.\" Like many before him, Robinson was comparing the so-called one drop rule of the U.S.\u2014where any hint of African ancestry consigns one to the category of \"black\"\u2014and the more flexible Brazilian system, which has been interpreted in North America as a denial of \"blackness\" but actually is a reflection of a huge nation colonized by relatively small Portugal, then being inundated by Africans in the 19th century (not least because of the actions of U.S. nationals), that, in turn, generated a desire to create intermediate buffers between black and white.\n\nComing from a mostly black Washington, D.C., Robinson was struck by the parallels after he stumbled\u2014literally\u2014over black corpses, victims of a tightly linked web of poverty, crime, and violence, in Rio de Janeiro, one of this sprawling city's many scandals. \"The inference I drew,\" he asserted wearily, \"was that young black men were seen as expendable in Brazil. . . . I was ready to get on my high horse about all this, until on reflection I realized that that could be a pretty good description of the way young black men were seen in the United States as well.\"\n\nIf Robinson had been in Rio de Janeiro in 2005, no doubt he would have been struck by yet another macabre display of black corpses. For it was then that one of the world's largest slave burial grounds was unearthed, a mass grave where thousands of corpses were abandoned by slave traders well before abolition in 1888. Experts say that as many as 20,000 bodies may have been dumped ignominiously in the Cemiterio dos Prietos Novos or the Cemetery of the New Blacks. Yet a mystery remained as to whether the burying of these corpses was the result of the depredations of U.S. nationals during the heyday of the illicit slave trade approximately 160 years ago.\n\n## **Notes**\n\n### NOTES TO THE INTRODUCTION\n\n1. In this sense this book is akin to previous books of mine. See e.g. Gerald Horne, **From the Barrel of a Gun: The United States and the War Against Zimbabwe, 1965\u20131980,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001: This book is an account of U.S. policy toward this land in South-Central Africa, along with a narrative focused on the actions of U.S. nationals\u2014especially mercenaries\u2014there. Here Zimbabweans are incidental to the telling of this central story. See also **Black and Brown: African-Americans and the Mexican Revolution, 1910\u20131920,** New York: New York University Press, 2005: This book looks at Mexico through the eyes of African-Americans in the context of the Revolution. Here Mexicans are incidental to the telling of this central story. Hence, the book at hand is not actually comparable to those works that examine the African Diaspora, either generally or as it relates to Brazil. See e.g. James H. Sweet, **Recreating Africa: Culture, Kinship and Religion in the African-Portuguese World, 1441\u20131770,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003. James Lorand Matory, **Black Atlantic Religion: Tradition, Transnationalism and Matriarchy in the Afro-Brazilian Candomble,** Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2005; Linda M. Heywood, ed., **Central Africans and Cultural Transformation in the African Diaspora,** New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002; Julius Scott, \"The Common Wind: Currents of Afro-American Communication in the Era of the Haitian Revolution,\" Ph.D. dissertation, Duke University, 1986; Pierre Verger, **Bahia and the West African Trade, 1549\u20131851,** Ibadan: Ibadan University Press, 1964; Least of all is this book written as a history of Brazilian slavery. See e.g. Flavio dos Santos Gomes, **Exp\u00eariencias Atl\u00e2nticas: Ensaios e Pesquisas Sobre a Escravidao e o P\u00f3s-Emancipa\u00e7\u00e3o no Brasil,** Passo Fundo, Brasil: Universidade de Passo Fundo, UPF Editora, 2003; Maria Helena Machado, **Crime e Escravid\u00e3o: Trabalho, Luta e Resist\u00eancia nas Lavouras Paulistas, 1830\u20131888,** S\u00e3o Paulo: Editora Brasiliense, 1987; Joseli Mendonca, **Cenas da Aboli\u00e7\u00e3o: Escravos e Senhores no Parlamento e na Justi\u00e7a,** S\u00e3o Paulo: Editora Funda\u00e7\u00e3o Perseu Abramo, 2001; Leonardo Dantas Silva, **Aboli\u00e7\u00e3o em Pernambuco,** Recife: FUNDAJ, Editora Massangana, 1988; Hebe Castro, **Das Cores do Sil\u00eancio: Os Significados no Sudeste Escravista, Brasil S\u00e9culo XIX,** Rio de Janeiro: Nova Fronteira, 1998; Nor is this book\u2014as such\u2014a comparative history: see e.g. Richard Graham, \"Slavery and Economic Development: Brazil and the U.S. in the 19th Century,\" **Comparative Studies in Society and History,** 23 (Number 4, October 1981): 620\u2013655; Celia Azevedo, **Abolitionism in the United States and Brazil: A Comparative Perspective,** New York: Garland, 1995.\n\n2. Joseph E. Inikori and Stanley L. Engerman, eds., **The Atlantic Slave Trade: Effects on Economics, Societies, and Peoples in Africa, the Americas and Europe,** Durham: Duke University Press, 1992, 9.\n\n3. Joseph E. Inikori, \"The Struggle against the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade,\" in Sylviane A. Diouf, ed., **Fighting the Slave Trade: West African Strategies,** Athens: Ohio University Press, 2003, 170\u2013198, 170\u2013171. But see David Eltis, et al., \"A Participa\u00e7\u00e3o dos Paises da Europa e das Am\u00e9ricas no Tr\u00e1fico Tranatl\u00e2ntico de Escravos: Novas Evid\u00eancias,\" **Afro-Asia,** 24 (2000): 9\u201350: This authoritative article suggests that 12 million enslaved Africans crossed the Atlantic and that it is unlikely that there were more than 13 million, with about 10.4 million landing alive. See also Philip D. Curtin, **The Atlantic Slave Trade: A Census,** Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1969: estimates here are lower than those of Inikori. See also James Rawley, **The Transatlantic Slave Trade: A History,** New York: Norton, 1981: this author's estimates are also lower than those of Inikori.\n\n4. Gwen Midlo Hall, **Slavery and African Ethnicities in the Americas,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2005, xiv, 95; David Eltis, et al., eds., **The Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade,** Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Hall argues that the renowned Eltis database \"undercounts the massive Portuguese and Brazilian slave trade voyages.\"\n\n5. Jose C. Curto and Paul E. Lovejoy, eds., **Enslaving Connections: Changing Cultures of Africa and Brazil During the Era of Slavery,** Amherst, New York: Humanity Books, 2004, 11. See also W. D. Christie to Earl Russell, 5 August 1860, in **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, No. 47, 1861\u20131862,** Shannon: Irish University Press, 1969.\n\n6. A. J. R. Russell-Wood, **Slavery and Freedom in Colonial Brazil,** Oxford, U.K.: Oxford University Press, 2002, 27, 113, 117.\n\n7. David Eltis, **Economic Growth and the Ending of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade,** New York: Oxford University Press, 1987, 14.\n\n8. Leslie Bethell, **The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade: Britain, Brazil and the Slave Trade Question, 1807\u20131869,** London: Cambridge University Press, 1970, x.\n\n9. Hugh Thomas, **The Slave Trade: The Story of the Atlantic Slave Trade: 1440\u20131870,** New York: Simon and Schuster, 1997, 743, 746, 862. Thomas argues that Philip Curtin, whose estimates of the Atlantic Slave Trade, are lower than those of Inikori's, was \"understandably baffled\"\u2014\"like most of his successors\"\u2014\"as how to face the vast Portuguese-Brazilian slave traffic. . . . Curtin underestimated both the illegal Cuban and Brazilian trades in the nineteenth century.\" See Ibid., Philip Curtin, **The Atlantic Slave Trade.** See also Jean-Michel Deveau, \"Pedagogy of the History of the Slave Trade,\" in Doudou Diene, ed., **From Chains to Bonds: The Slave Trade Revisited,** Paris: UNESCO, 2001, 397\u2013415, 408: \"the period of the clandestine slave trade between 1815 and 1860 appears to have been significantly underestimated.\" Still, an estimate based on Curtin's figures shows that Brazil imported more enslaved Africans during the 1841\u20131850 decade\u2014338,000\u2014than any other. See E. Phillip LeVeen, **British Slave Trade Suppression Policies, 1821\u20131865,** New York: Arno Press, 1977, 7.\n\n10. Stanley S. Stein and Barbara H. Stein, **The Colonial Heritage of Latin America: Essays on Economic Dependence in Perspective,** New York: Oxford University Press, 1970, 148.\n\n11. Robert Fogel and Stanley Engerman, **Time on the Cross: The Economics of American Negro Slavery,** New York: Norton, 1989, 14, 28, 52.\n\n12. W. E. B. Du Bois, **The Suppression of the African Slave Trade to the United States of America, 1638\u20131870,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1969, 162.\n\n13. Captain Brunwick Popham, U.K. to Admiral George Elliot, 24 December 1838: \"it has been mentioned by Spaniards and Portuguese slaving on this coast\" of Africa \"that, were it not for the active cooperation of the Americans, the slave trade would very materially decline\u2014in fact be but feebly carried on. I do not doubt, from all I hear, that the citizens of the United States (generally of Baltimore) are more deeply interested in the slave-trade to Havana and Brazil than is generally supposed,\" in **Reports in Congress: Slavery Agitation and John Brown,** 1860, 370835-49 [unclear provenance], _Huntington Library\u2013San Marino, California._ See also e.g. Joao Baptista Moreira, Portuguese Legation in Rio De Janeiro, to Lisbon, 10 August 1851, \"Diplomatas Portugueses no Rio,\" _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon,_ re: A Portuguese national buying a U.S. ship, renaming and reflagging it before it sails to Angola. Similar content is reflected in J. B. Moreira to Lisbon, 29 November 1850 and other letters in this file reflecting transfer of U.S. registered ships to Lusophone nationals planning trips to slave-hunting grounds. In the same archive in Lisbon, see John C. Calhoun to William Figaniere, Consul General of Portugal in New York City, 24 June 1850, [translation] Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence with the U.S. Government, 1835\u20131869, A 28, M17, Torre 4 Piso, Estante 1, 15: \"The usual course of the slave trade in Brazil has been for the slaver to take out an original crew of Americans to Cabinda, or some other place on the African coast, there discharge the crew, upon which the vessel is sent back to Brazil with a cargo of slaves, navigated by 'passengers.'\" For a typical case of direct U.S. involvement, see \"U.S. vs. Cyrus Libby, May Term 1846, General Case Files, U.S. Circuit Court for District of Maine, Records of Circuit Courts of United States,\" Record Group 21, _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013Waltham, Massachusetts._ See also U.S. Consul in Bahia to U.S. State Department, 6 May 1850, Record Group 59, Roll 1, T331, **Records of the U.S. Department of State, Dispatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia, Brazil, 1850\u20131906,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland_ : \"I have been threatened with protests, abandonments, damages . . . for refusing to grant papers to American vessels condemned at this port (sold at public sale) to enable them to proceed to the coast of Africa\" to get \"cargoes of slaves.\" Sadly, reconstructing some of this history is problematic since there was a \"distressed state of affairs . . . in this consulate\" with an \"'Aegean Stable'\" of strewn files. In same file see also Chief of Police, Bahia, to U.S. Consulate, circa November 1850 [translated from Portuguese]: \"foreign vessels\" of U.S. origin \"having brought to this port on board of their vessel, liberated slaves\" in violation of the \"law of 7th of November 1831 . . . subject themselves to a penalty of one hundred mil reis for every person so brought and also the expenses.\" See also Report, 23 June 1852, FO 115\/124, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens, London_ : \". . . the Brazilian slave merchants intend to employ vessels belonging to the United States in that [slave] traffic.\" This made sense in that U.S. reluctance\u2014and its power to enforce its wishes\u2014to allow vessels with the Stars and Stripes to be searched for potential slaving, was an immense boost to this illegal trade. See also in same file the letter from Henry Southern in Rio de Janeiro, 16 August 1852; see also Alexander Majoribanks, **Travels in South and North America,** New York: Appleton, 1853, 62, \"Jose Cliffe, M.D., a native of the United States, settled in the Brazils and for some time engaged in the slave trade [and] it seems had made large profits. . . . he pronounces the slave trade the most lucrative one under the sun, yielding from one to three hundred per cent, slaves being generally bought in Africa for 5 [pounds] and sold in Brazil for 75 [pounds].\"\n\n14. Ibid., Leslie Bethell, **The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade,** 189, 184. See also Craig M. Simpson, **A Good Southerner: The Life of Henry A. Wise of Virginia,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1985, 63.\n\n15. See Richard Carl Froelich, \"The United States Navy and Diplomatic Relations with Brazil, 1822\u20131871,\" Ph.D. dissertation, Kent State University, 1971, 393: \"In the decade 1840\u20131850, fifty-two slaving ships flying the United States flag cleared Rio de Janeiro only a few of which were ever captured. During the five year period ending in 1845, sixty-four American vessels were sold in the capital alone, most of which because of their design were undoubtedly employed as slavers. . . . commerce between Brazil and Africa during the nineteenth century was negligible, so it must be assumed that these ships were utilized as slavers. While there is no way of estimating the total number of slaves brought into Brazil on American-flag vessels, the figure must surely run into the hundreds of thousands.\"\n\n16. Manolo G. Florentino, \"Slave Trading and Slave Traders in Rio de Janeiro, 1790\u20131830,\" in Ibid., Curto and Lovejoy, eds., **Enslaving Connections,** 57\u201379, 67.\n\n17. Ibid., David Eltis, 199.\n\n18. Mame-Kouna Tondut-Sene, \"The Travel and Transport of Slaves,\" in Ibid., Doudou Diene, 15\u201321, 15. See also Ibid., James H. Sweet, **Recreating Africa,** 60.\n\n19. Patrick Manning, \"The Slave Trade and Demographic Evolution of Africa,\" in Ibid., Doudou Diene, 103\u2013118, 114.\n\n20. Ibid., Gwen Midlo Hall, **Slavery and African Ethnicities in the Americas,** xiii; Eric Anderson, \"Yankee Blackbirds: Northern Entrepreneurs and the Illegal International Slave Trade, 1815\u20131865,\" M.A. thesis, University of Idaho, 1999, 349: \"capital earned in the slave trade also contributed to industrialization during the first decades of the nineteenth century.\"\n\n21. Manisha Sinha, **The Counterrevolution of Slavery: Politics and Ideology in Antebellum South Carolina,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2000, 136, 151\u2013152, 153.\n\n22. See e.g. Eric Walther, **The Fire-Eaters,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1992, 32, 150:\n\n23. See e.g. Jesse T. Carpenter, **The South as a Conscious Minority, 1789\u20131861,** Gloucester, Massachusetts: Peter Smith, 1963, 179\u2013180.\n\n24. Statement by W. L. Garrison, in Stephen B. Oates, ed., **The Approaching Fury: Voices of the Storm, 1820\u20131861,** New York: HarperCollins, 1998, 153.\n\n25. Joseph A. Stout, Jr., **Schemers and Dreamers: Filibustering in Mexico, 1848\u20131921,** Fort Worth: Texas Christian University Press, 2002, 53.\n\n26. Matthew Fontaine Maury, \"Direct Foreign Trade of the South,\" **De Bow's Review,** 12 (Number 2, February 1852): 126\u2013148. Like many other Virginians, Maury opposed the illegal African Slave Trade; critics of these Virginians argued that this view was motivated by the profits garnered in the Upper South by selling enslaved Africans \"down the river\" to e.g. Alabama\u2014where enthusiasm for reopening the trade was more intense. See e.g. John M. Wayland, **The Pathfinder of the Seas: The Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury,** Richmond: Garrett & Massie, 1930, 78\u201379. See also Lawrence F. Hill, **Diplomatic Relations Between the United States and Brazil,** Durham: Duke University Press, 1932, 140: \"the section of the United States which gave greatest support to abolition also gave greatest encouragement to the foreign slave trade. Furthermore, the support accorded these apparently antagonistic movements was at floodtide at about the same time. . . . the owner of the 'Bangor [Maine] Gazette' preached abolition in the columns of his paper at the same time he was engaged in building ships which he knew were to be used in the illicit trade.\"\n\n27. See Matthew F. Maury to William Graham, U.S. Secretary of the Navy, 14 August 1850, Washington Oficios, 1848\u20131851, _Arquivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty, Rio de Janeiro._\n\n28. Letter from William Marcy, 20 April 1853, Oficios, 1852\u20131853, _Arquivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty, Rio de Janeiro._\n\n29. See e.g. W. S. W. Ruschenberger, **Notes and Commentaries During a Voyageto Brazil and China in the Year 1848,** Richmond: McFarlane & Ferguson, 1845, 60, 62, 120, 121. The author, who made his first visit to Brazil in 1834 observes that \"the entrance to the harbor of Rio de Janeiro is admirably defended\" though a \"brave mind directing a sufficient number of skillful gunners in these forts might render this passage very perilous\" though a \"force afloat would find it difficult to conquer the forts of Rio. . . . the standing army of Brazil is so small as scarcely to merit the name\" while \"the navy is not effective . . . and there is no prospect of improvement.\"\n\n30. Robert E. May, **Manifest Destiny's Underworld: Filibustering in Antebellum America,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2002, 116.\n\n31. See Memo, no date, Box 1, **Edwin James Papers,** _University of South Carolina\u2013Columbia._\n\n32. James W. C. Pennington, **A Narrative of Events from the Life of J. H. Banks, An Escaped Slave, From the Cotton State, Alabama, in America,** Liverpool: M. Rourke, 1861, 5.\n\n33. U.S. Congress. House of Representatives. 37th Congress, 2nd Session. Report Number 148, \"Report of the Select Committee on Emancipation and Colonization with an Appendix.\" ES US 587, R42, _Bowdoin College._\n\n34. Najia Aarim-Heriot, **Chinese Immigrants, African Americans and Racial Anxiety in the United States, 1848\u20131882,** Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2003, 64: it was \"better for free blacks to be colonized in a country where they could have political rights and dignity. . . . some of the men who would become radicals in the 1860s (for example, Salmon P. Chase, Benjamin F. Wade, Thaddeus Stevens and Samuel C. Pomeroy) favored the scheme at one time or another.\"\n\n35. \"Marquis d'Abrantes\" to James Watson Webb, 24 June 1962, Box 7, Folder 100, **James Watson Webb Papers,** _Yale University._ See also Nicia Vilela Luz, **Amaz\u00f4nia Para Os Negros Americanos (As Origens de Uma Controv\u00e9rsia Internacional),** Rio de Janeiro: Editora Sage, 1968.\n\n36. See Memo of Mariano Alvarez, Legation of Spain in Haiti, 8 July 1862, File: \"Haiti,\" H2523\/003, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n37. Letter from Legation of U.S. in Ecuador, 1 January 1863, Record Group 48, Microfilm No. 160, Roll 3, **Department of the Interior,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n38. See Lord Lyons to \"My Lord,\" 27 January 1863, FO5\/934, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens, London._\n\n39. Ibid., James W. C. Pennington, **A Narrative of Events of the Life of J. H. Banks . . . ,** 69, 89.\n\n40. Ibid., Craig M. Simpson, **A Good Southerner,** 61.\n\n41. **Report of the Committee on Slaves and Slavery in Relation to the Importation of African Slaves,** Austin: John Marshall & Co., 1857, _American Antiquarian Society\u2013Worcester, Massachusetts._ See also Arnabella G. Odell, \"Reopening the African Slave Trade in Texas,\" M.A. thesis, University of Texas-Austin, 1946. See also Earl W. Fornell, \"The African Slave Trade to the Texas Gulf Coast,\" no date, _Barker Center for American History, University of Texas\u2013Austin_ : \"in the 1850s a prime slave could be sold for as much as $1500 in Texas\"; hence, \"according to one estimate\" many hundreds of \"Africans were imported into Texas\" in 1838 alone. See also Michael Rugeley Moore, \"Settlers, Slaves, Sharecroppers and Stockhands: A Texas-Plantation Ranch, 1824\u20131896,\" M.A. thesis, University of Houston, 2001, 85: \"British Consul William Kennedy at Galveston estimated that between 1833 and 1843 over 500 African slaves were smuggled into Texas from all places other than the United States, while a later historian believes the estimate would be closer to 2\u20133,000 during this period.\"\n\n42. Washington Irving to John C. Calhoun, 16 October 1844, in Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **The Papers of John C. Calhoun, Volume 20, 1844,** Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1991, p. 91.\n\n43. Serge Daget, \"France, Suppression of the Illegal Trade and England, 1817\u20131850,\" in David Eltis and James Walvin, eds., **The Abolition of the Atlantic Slave Trade: Origins and Effects in Europe, Africa and the Americas,** Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, 1981, 193\u2013217, 202.\n\n44. Gardner W. Allen, ed., **The Papers of Francis Gregory Dallas,** New York: Naval History Society, 1917, xlvii.\n\n45. See Lord Lyons to Mr. Cass, 23 May 1859, in U.S. Congress. House of Representatives, 2nd Session, Ex. Doc. 7, \"African Slave Trade.\" Message from the President of the United States. 6 December 1860. Volume 2, 337. _New York Historical Society._\n\n46. William Law Mathieson, **Great Britain and the Slave Trade, 1839\u20131865,** New York: Octagon, 1967, 165.\n\n47. Duke of Newcastle to Sir Philip E. Wodehouse, December 1861, GH 1.286.173, _State Archives\u2013Cape Town._ A similar message was sent to Queensland, Australia. See Letter to Queensland Governor, 26 December 1861, RSI A46196, **Original Despatches from the Secretary of State, Volume II, 1861,** _Queensland State Archives\u2013Brisbane._\n\n48. Laird W. Bergad, **Slavery and the Demographic and Economic History of Minas Gerais, Brazil, 1720\u20131888,** New York: Cambridge University Press, 1999, 42.\n\n49. W. Lorman to Samuel L. Southard, Secretary of the Navy, 2 March 1826, Rare Pam. 2351, U.S. Congress. House of Representatives. Doc. No. 119, 19th Congress, 1st Session, Washington, D.C., 1826, _Maryland Historical Society\u2013Baltimore._\n\n50. See Inventory, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers,** MS 2416, _Maryland Historical Society\u2013Baltimore._\n\n51. Ibid., Eric Anderson, \"Yankee Blackbirds,\" 244, 310. See also \"Testamento de Manuel Pinto da Fonseca,\" 22 May 1854, Tabeliao: Antonio Sim\u00e3o de Miranda, Livro 20, 2o bairro de Lisboa, XV-R-72 (32) 1854. Arquivo Historico do Minist\u00e9rio das Finan\u00e7as, _Arquivo Historico da Torre do Tombo\u2013Lisbon._ See also Phyllis Martin, \"Family Strategies in Nineteenth Century Cabinda,\" **Journal of African History,** 28 (1987): 65\u201387.\n\n52. Maxwell, Wright & Co., **Commercial Formalities of Rio de Janeiro,** Rio de Janeiro: T. B. Hunt, 1834, _Barker Center for American History, University of Texas\u2013Austin_ : There were 62 U.S. vessels in the port of Rio in 1819; 104 in 1823\u2014and 619 by 1833. See also Silke Strickrodt, \"'Afro-Brazilians' of the Western Slave Coast in the Nineteenth Century,\" in Ibid., Jose Curto and Paul Lovejoy, eds., **Enslaving Connections,** 212\u2013244, 250, 224, \"Samuel da Costa Soares . . . who was Portuguese by origin and [a] naturalized citizen of the United States was apparently one of the old traders on the coast, based at Ouidah.\" See also John David Smith, **Black Judas: William Hannibal Thomas and 'The American Negro,'** Athens: University of Georgia Press, 2000, 134: \"In 1867 Brazilian native Augustus Archer da Silva, a naturalized American citizen, entered the Luanda [Angola] market as U.S. commercial agent. . . . he began trading operations in palm oil, kernels, coffee and groundnuts two hundred miles up the Cuanza River.\" See also Roquinaldo Ferreira, **Slaving, Trade, and Creolization in the Black Atlantic,** forthcoming (I thank Professor Ferreira for sharing his findings with me): da Silva was also a major slave dealer in partnership with another U.S. national, John Willis, John Sparhawk, and Robert Brookhouse. They were part of a relatively large U.S. business community in Luanda. Between 1840 and 1860, the U.S. lagged behind only Portugal and Brazil in the number of ships entering this port. Brookhouse, based in Salem, Massachusetts, was a major economic force in Angola. Major slave dealers in Angola were part of a slaving circuit that also included frequent stops in Rio de Janeiro, Charleston, New Orleans, and New York. U.S. nationals with dual\u2014especially Lusophone citizenship and\/or connections\u2014were essential to the illegal trade.\n\n53. See Report, circa 1802, Legado No. 22, 9-31-1-8, _Archivo General de la Naci\u00f3n\u2013Buenos Aires, Argentina_ : The ship once called the \"Lenox,\" owned by a U.S. national, went to Africa to buy Negroes for Montevideo. It sank off the coast of Africa.\n\n54. See Volume 0541, Sessions Laws, 1834, Page 0137, passed 25 February 1835, _Maryland State Archives\u2013Annapolis_ : \"An act to authorize William . . . Wright to bring into this State, certain Slaves. . . . now resides in Rio de Janeiro, whither he went as U.S. Consul of the United States, carrying with him two Negro slaves, Frederick and Maria, who have since had two children, Edward and Lewis, and the said Wright intending to return to this State, is desirous to bring said slaves into this State.\" He was authorized to do so.\n\n55. Ibid., Roquinaldo Ferreira: Antonio Severino de Avellar was an active dealer in Congo and Angola, whose cousin was the Consul of Hamburg in New York. Mary Catherine Karasch, \"The Brazilian Slavers and the Illegal Slave Trade, 1836\u20131851,\" M.A. thesis, University of Wisconsin-Madison, 1967, 22: \"as late as 1853\u20131854 a Governor-General of Angola shipped a cargo of slaves to Brazil.\" See also David R. Murray, **Odious Commerce: Britain, Spain and the Abolition of the Cuban Slave Trade,** Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1980, 104: London charged that the U.S. Consul in Havana, Nicholas Trist\u2014who \"later negotiated the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo\"\u2014was \"aiding United States vessels engaged in the Cuban slave trade.\" Ibid., Eric Anderson, 296, 306: \"the Secretary of the U.S. Navy was a supporter of the slave trade as late as 1842. . . . the Brazilian, Domingo Rodrigues Souto, an employee in the U.S. consulate in Santos, Brazil, also acted in concert with slavers disembarking slaves near that port.\" Isaac Mayo of the U.S. Navy and Commodore in the African Squadron that was tasked to halt the illicit trade was a slaveholder; there were \"scores of slaves toiling on his Maryland plantation\" and he remained in this business \"until his dying day.\" See C. Herbert Gilliland, ed., **Voyage to a Thousand Cares: Master's Mate Lawrence with the African Squadron, 1844\u20131846,** Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 2004, 35.\n\n56. Ibid. Roquinaldo Ferreira.\n\n57. See e.g. John McKeon, U.S. Attorney, to William Marcy, Secretary of State, 10 November 1854, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence with the U.S. Government, 1835\u20131869, A 28, Torre 4 Piso Estante 1, 15, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon_ : \"William Figaniere, Consul General of Portugal . . . was called as a witness for the defence of the trial of James Smith indicted for having carried slaves on board the American brig 'Julia Moulton'\"; it was suspected that this diplomat too was involved in the trade; on the stand, he refused to answer certain questions. In the same file, see also William Marcy to William Figaniere, 2 August 1856. In the same file, note also the curious increase of Portuguese Consuls appointed in Savannah, New Orleans, Norfolk, etc., as the Civil War approached. A Portuguese Vice-Consul in Baltimore, Augusto Lopes Baptista was \"arrested for trial under a charge of being concerned with the slave trade.\" The accused also had extensive dealings with the \"Consulado Brasiliero\" and shipping to Rio de Janeiro. See Augusto Baptista to New York Consul, 31 December 1849, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of Vice-Consuls of Portugal in the U.S., 1839\u20131887, Torre 4, Piso, Estante 1, 7. A28, M9, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._ See also Clipping, 26 October 1858: Baptista \"for several years resided in Baltimore and for some time acted as Portuguese Vice Consul in that city . . . ceased to hold that office and was dismissed the service of Portugal on the 5th of June 1857; that is so soon as it was ascertained that Baptista had assumed that name, his real one being Domingos Jose da Costa Florim a Brazilian subject, who had been indicted at Rio de Janeiro for the deviation of the public funds.\" See also Augusto Baptista to William Figaniere e Marao, 31 October 1856, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence Received from Various Individual Portuguese and Americans, 1835\u20131888. A28, M15. Torre 4, Piso, Estante 1, 13, _Archivo Hist\u00f3ricoDiplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon_ : Re: \"purchase of the schooner Charles F.A. Cole . . . which is turned out of having been engaged in the slave trade and for which offense I am charged of fitting her out. On the 20th . . . my trial commenced.\" Jury \"after deliberating on the case the whole night and part of the next day . . . [was] unable to agree on a verdict.\" In this era there was a fluidity of citizenship and diplomatic representation that facilitated the slave trade. In the same file as the previous see D. Ponce of Savannah to Figaniere, then Charg\u00e9s d'Affaires in Baltimore, 22 March 1837: \"I have a letter of recent date from the Spanish Consul General, in which he states that it is perfectly consistent with propriety that one and the same person may hold both offices of Spanish and Portuguese Vice-Consul.\" See also H. V. Huntley, U.K. emissary in Angola to Earl Russell, 24 January 1861: \"Senhor Pamplona, whose proceedings with reference to the Slave Trade are so well known . . . is now in the United States for [the] purpose, it is said, of residing there a sufficient period to enable him to claim naturalization papers and then return here. . . . his object in becoming a citizen of the [U.S.] is to enable him to work his lanchas on the north of the Portuguese territory under the American flag.\" In **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 47, 1861\u20131862,** Shannon: Irish University Press, 1968. See also **Report of Mr. Kennedy of Maryland. The Committee on Commerce of the House of Representatives of the United States on the Memorial of the Friends of African Colonization Assembled in Convention in the City of Washington, May 1842 . . . Together with all the Diplomatic Correspondence Between the United States and Great Britain on the Subject of the African Slave Trade,** 27th Congress, 3rd Session. Report No. 283, Washington, D.C.: Gales and Seaton, 1843: Campbell J. Dalrymple, Havana to Lord Palmerston, 19 January 1839. The U.S. Consul in Havana was \"also acting as Portuguese Consul,\" which facilitated disguising U.S. ships as Portuguese for illicit purposes.\n\n58. Philip E. Nothway, \"Salem and the Zanzibar-East African Slave Trade, 1825\u20131845,\" **Essex Institute Historical Collections,** 90 (Number 2, 1954): 123\u2013154, 124.\n\n59. Major F. B. Pearce, **Zanzibar: The Island Metropolis of Eastern Africa,** London: Fisher Unwin, 1920, 134, 192: \"In 1859 no less than 19,000 slaves were openly imported into Zanzibar, about half of whom were subsequently shipped\" to the Western Hemisphere, \"to Arabia and the Persian Gulf.\"\n\n60. Manuscript by Cyrus Brady, 1948, Box 1, **Cyrus Brady Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum\u2013Salem, Massachusetts._\n\n61. See Russel Lawrence Barsh, \"'Colored' Seamen in the New England Whaling Industry: An Afro-Indian Consortium,\" in James F. Brooks, ed., **Confounding the Color Line: The Indian-Black Experience in North America,** Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2002, 76\u2013107, 77, 78, 91.\n\n62. Ibid., Manuscript by Cyrus Brady.\n\n63. Kathryn Grover, **The Fugitive's Gibraltar: Escaping Slaves and Abolitionism in New Bedford, Massachusetts,** Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2001, 268: \"the percentage of mariners in the city's workforce of color dropped steadily between 1836 and 1856, from 35.6 percent in the earlier year to 14.9 percent in the later one.\" See also Nigel Randell, **The White Headhunter: The Story of a 19th Century Sailor who Survived a South Seas Heart of Darkness,** New York: Carroll and Graf, 2003, 221: \"the result of low pay and miserable working conditions was that by the 1840s of the 18,000 men in the Pacific whaling fleet, one half were greenhorns and more than two-thirds of them deserted every voyage.\" This provided fertile ground for slavers, which were more lucrative than declining whalers. See also, Gerald Horne, **The White Pacific** : **U.S. Imperialism and Black Slavery in the South Seas after the Civil War,** Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, forthcoming.\n\n64. Lt. Pegram Harrison, \"A Blind Eye Toward the Slave Trade,\" **Naval History,** 10 September 1996, Vertical File-Slave Trade, _U.S. Naval Academy\u2013Annapolis_ : \"between 1837 and 1862, U.S. officers arrested only 106 vessels for violation of the slave trade act\u2014an average of four a year. . . . its orders . . . made it clear that the Navy's first mission was not to suppress the slave trade but to protect the growing American-West African commercial trade and the sovereignty of U.S. vessels from search by the British. The commodores were instructed almost incidentally to go through the motions of suppressing the slave trade and to even that much with great restraint.\"\n\n65. Hugh G. Soulsby, **The Right of Search and the Slave Trade in Anglo-American Relations, 1814\u20131862,** Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1933, 137.\n\n66. **New York Herald Tribune,** 15 August 1859, H1470\/0046\/04, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n67. Robert Pierce Patrick, Jr., \"In the Interest of the South: The Life and Career of Duff Green,\" Ph.D. dissertation, University of South Carolina, 2000, 334.\n\n68. Lawrence Jennings, **French Reaction to British Slave Emancipation,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1988, 77.\n\n69. See e.g. Harvey Wish, \"The Revival of the African Slave Trade in the United States, 1856\u20131860,\" **Mississippi Valley Historical Review,** 27 (Number 4, March 1941): 569\u2013588, 572.\n\n70. Ibid., Lawrence Jennings, 84.\n\n71. **The Standard and River Plate News,** [Buenos Aires], 5 January 1865, _Biblioteca Nacional de Argentina\u2013Buenos Aires._\n\n72. See Thomas Adamson to William Seward, 21 November 1863, Roll 7, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco, Brazil, 1817\u20131906.**\n\n73. Jose Araugo Pereira to Francisco Carneiro de Campos, 14 September 1831, Oficios da Miss\u00e3o Diplom\u00e1tica Brasiliera em Washington, Oficios, 233\/3\/1, _Arquivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamary, Rio de Janeiro._\n\n74. See e.g. **The Cosmopolitan,** [Buenos Ayres], 23 November 1831, _Biblioteca Nacional de Argentina, Buenos Aires_ : Readers were informed that according to one on-the-scene report, \"'we are all in a state of confusion here. . . . number of brigands is supposed to be from 100 to 150, chiefly on horseback and armed with fowling pieces.'\" As if there were a contagion at play, nearby in this same edition was a report noting, \"accounts received at Montevideo from Rio Janeiro [ _sic_ ] state that . . . the Negroes had murdered from 60 to 70 of the whites. Troops had been sent from Pernambuco.\"\n\n75. U.S. Consul to Secretary of State, John Forsyth, 11 February 1835, T344, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco, Brazil, 1817\u20131906,** Roll 1, _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._ (Note: attached to this letter are contemporaneous accounts of this revolt from e.g. **Peri\u00f3dico Politico, Moral Literario,** and **Noticioso**.)\n\n76. See Report, 23 March 1843, H2523\/003, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._ Similarly, Spanish diplomats monitored Haiti relentlessly for abolitionist sentiment, which would be of relevance to Cuba and Puerto Rico.\n\n77. See e.g. Report, 12 March 1853, Monrovia, 1850\u20131853, \"Correspondencia Recebida, Correspondencia Expedida,\" _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty, Rio de Janeiro:_ Brazil's representative, who spent over a year in Liberia studying the prospects for emigration, found his mission hampered by internal strife. Liberia's President in discussing this issue with him assailed the U.S. because of that nation's rampant racism and favorably contrasted Brazil\u2014or so said this Brazilian diplomat. Concern was expressed that Brazilian emigrants were not fluent in English. See e.g. Jo\u00e3o Jos\u00e9 Reis, **Slave Rebellion in Brazil: The Muslim Uprising of 1835 in Bahia,** Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993, 221.\n\n78. See the voluminous reports about the Brown-led revolt in H1470\/0046\/04, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n79. Report from Rio, 16 December 1837, Record Group 84, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n80. Ibid., Thomas Adamson to William Seward, 21 November 1863, Record Group 84.\n\n81. Robert Edgar Conrad, **The Destruction of Brazilian Slavery, 1850\u20131888,** Malabar, Florida: Krieger, 1993, 48: \"It was the outcome of the military conflict in North America that most greatly undermined Brazilian slavery and awakened opposition to it, for the survival of slavery in the United States had given defenders of Brazilian slavery one of their best arguments.\"\n\n82. Malcolm Rohrbaugh, \"No Boy's Play: Migration and Settlement in Early Gold Rush California,\" **California History,** 79 (Number 2, Summer 2000): 25\u201343, 25.\n\n83. Oscar Lewis, \"South American Ports of Call,\" in John Walton Caughey, ed., **Rushing for Gold,** Berkeley: University of California Press, 1949, 57\u201366, 60.\n\n84. Rhoda Blumberg, **The Great American Gold Rush,** New York: Bradbury, 1989, 37.\n\n85. Reverend Robert Walsh, **Notices of Brazil in 1828 and 1829, Volume 2,** Boston: Richardson, Lord & Holbrook, 1831, 190.\n\n86. See address by Douglass from **New York Daily News,** 14 January 1865, **New York Herald,** 14 January 1865, in John Blassingame and John R. McKivigan, eds., **The Frederick Douglass Papers** ; **Series One: Speeches, Debates and Interviews, Volume 4: 1864\u20131880,** New Haven: Yale University Press, 1991, 59.\n\n87. Robert S. Levine, ed., **Martin R. Delany: A Documentary Reader,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2003, 264\u2013265.\n\n88. Robert L. Hall, \"'Illegal Aliens' from Africa: The Clandestine Overseas Slave Trade from Africa to the United States, 1808\u20131865,\" Paper Presented at Colloquium of the African American Studies Center, Boston University, 2003. See also **Tallahassee Floridian and Journal,** 6 August 1859 and 10 November 1860. See also James Paisley Hendrix, Jr., \"The Efforts to Reopen the Slave Trade in Louisiana,\" M.A. thesis, Louisiana State University, 1968, 20: the \"number of illegal importations into the entire South between 1808 and 1860 [was] as high as 270,000. In the decade of the 1850s, [Du Bois] finds the illicit traffic to have been almost 'a reopening of the slave trade.'\"\n\n89. Report from Ben Slocumb, 21 November 1859, Record Group 48, Roll 4, **Records of the Department of Interior,** Microfilm No. 160, _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n90. See Report from U.K. Consul in Galveston, 30 May 1843, FO 701\/27, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens, London._ See e.g. Consul Arthur Lyons in Galveston to Lord John Russell, 31 August 1860, FO 701\/27.\n\n91. **New York Times,** 15 August 1867.\n\n92. See e.g. Letter from William Seward to Madrid, 8 May 1866, H1472, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid_ : \"official information has just been received at this department that a steamer is now fitting out at New Orleans for the purpose of taking a cargo of Negroes from some point near Pensacola, Florida to Cuba . . . another vessel, bound on the same errand, will follow in a day or two\"; Report by Acting U.K. Consul in Puerto Rico, Francis H. Cowper, 23 August 1865, FO 115\/447, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens, London._ See Douglas Audenreid Grier, \"Confederate Emigration to Brazil, 1865\u20131870,\" Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan-Ann Arbor, 1968, 164. See also, Ibid., Hugh Thomas, **The Slave Trade,** 739\u2013740. See also Lord Palmerston to Consul Arthur Lyons in Galveston, 5 December 1851, FO 701\/27, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ Letter from \"Granville,\" 13 February 1852, FO 115\/124, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ H. S. Fox to U.S. Government, 4 November 1837, FO 285\/1, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ R. Hesketh, U.K. Consul in Rio de Janeiro, to James Hudson, 29 September 1850, FO 420\/11, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ Consul William Kennedy to the Earl of Aberdeen, 10 July 1843, FO 701\/27, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n93. See Register, 17 November 1888, M468, Roll 1, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Zanzibar, British Africa,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland_ : There was a \"suspicion\" that in this year that slavery was banned in Brazil, the \"Solitaire,\" a vessel from Boston, which had just arrived from Mozambique was \"engaged in\" the \"Slave Trade.\" See also Report, 17 November 1888, Roll 4.\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 1\n\n1. Robert M. Levine and John J. Crocitti, eds., **The Brazil Reader: History, Culture and Politics,** Durham: Duke University Press, 1999, 2.\n\n2. Elizabeth Donnan, ed., **Documents Illustrative of the History of the Slave Trade to America, Volume 3: New England and the Middle Colonies,** Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institution of Washington, 1932, 405, 406, 412\u2013413.\n\n3. Ibid., Elizabeth Donnan, **Volume 4: The Border Colonies and the Southern Colonies,** Washington, D.C.: Carnegie Institution of Washington, 1935, 255.\n\n4. See Rhode Island Historical Society, \"Rhode Island and the African Slave Trade: John Brown and the Colonial Economy of Slavery,\" Providence: RIHS, 2003; see also Christy Millard Nadalin, \"The Last Years of the Rhode Island Slave Trade,\" **Rhode Island History,** 54 (Number 2, May 1996): 35\u201350, 35, 37. J. Stanley Lemons, \"Rhode Island and the Slave Trade,\" **Rhode Island History,** 60 (Number 4, Fall 2002): 95\u2013104. See also John Atkins, **A Voyage to Guinea, Brasil and the West Indies,** London: Caesar Ward and Richard Chandler, 1735.\n\n5. See e.g. Letter, 26 January 1762, Box 15, Folder 1, **Hunter Family Papers,** _Newport Historical Society\u2013Rhode Island_ : \"some merchants have made vast [sums] of money by the Guinea Trade lately; they have ordered their slaves directly from the Coast to Monto Christo where they received a higher price for their Negros than in any of [the other] islands.\" See also Robert Champlin, **A Rhode Island Slaver; Trade Book of the Sloop Adventure, 1773\u20131774,** Providence: Shepley Library, 1922. See also Bill of Sale for a Negro Slave brought to U.S. by Daniel Olney after being bought in the Rio de la Plata, South America circa 1805, Box 593, **Brown Family Papers,** _Brown University\u2013Providence._ See also \"The Journal of an African Slaver, 1789\u20131792,\" **Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society,** 39 (October 16, 1929): 379\u2013465.\n\n6. Edwin S. James, \"The Last Confederates Live in Brazil,\" 1991, Box 1, **Edwin James Papers,** _University of South Carolina\u2013Columbia._\n\n7. Letter from Jean Luzac in Leyden, 14 September 1780, in Gregg L. Lint, ed., **Papers of John Adams, Volume 10,** Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1996, 150.\n\n8. Tommy Todd Hamm, \"The American Slave Trade with Africa, 1620\u20131807,\" Ph.D. dissertation, Indiana University, 1975, 83, 96, 121, 179, 233, 247: \"in 1805 Montevideo attracted more American slavers than Havana.\"\n\n9. Marie-Jeanne Rossignol, **The Nationalist Ferment: The Origins of U.S. Foreign Policy, 1792\u20131812,** Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2004, 130.\n\n10. Thomas Jefferson to John Jay, 4 May 1787, in Julian Boyd., ed., **The Papers of Thomas Jefferson, Volume 11, 1 January to 6 August 1787,** Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1955, 339.\n\n11. Ibid., Marie-Jeanne Rossignol, 148.\n\n12. A. Leon Higginbotham, **In the Matter of Color: Race & the American Legal Process: The Colonial Period,** New York: Oxford University Press, 1978, 380, 382.\n\n13. Bernard Bailyn, **To Begin the World Anew: The Genius and Ambiguities of the American Founders,** New York: Knopf, 2003, 133.\n\n14. Saul L. Pandover, **Jefferson,** Old Saybrook, Connecticut: Konecky, 1980, 390.\n\n15. See e.g. Garry Wills, **'Negro President': Jefferson and the Slave Power,** Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2003, 5.\n\n16. Ibid., Christy Millard Nadalin, 39. See also Susan Herlin Broadhead, \"Trade and Politics on the Congo Coast: 1770\u20131870,\" Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University, 1971.\n\n17. See Letter from Mozambique, 7 February 1806, Box 7, **Elisha Potter Papers,** _Rhode Island Historical Society\u2013Providence_ : Potter, born in Rhode Island, was a lawyer and a graduate of Harvard. He was the Democratic candidate for Governor of this state in 1858 and 1859. See also Kenneth Scott, \"George Scott, Slave Trader of Newport,\" **American Neptune,** 12 (Number 3, July 1952): 222\u2013228, 222.\n\n18. See \"Records of Rhode Island vessels copied by Dr. Charles Chandler in 1944 from the National Archives at Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.\" Box 6, **Charles Chandler Papers,** _Rhode Island Historical Society._ See also Letter from Gustavus K., circa 1810, **Causten Family Papers,** _Georgetown University_ ; Documents, 1791, Box 1, Folder 25, **Slavery in the U.S. Collection,** _American Antiquarian Society\u2013Worcester, Massachusetts._\n\n19. See \"Trader's Book,\" MSS9001, _Rhode Island Historical Society_ : Covering the early years of the 19th century, this fascinating document concerns Rio de Janeiro, Bahia and the R.I. trade.\n\n20. Letter from Downing Street, 17 April 1813, GH1\/8\/63, _State Archives\u2013Cape Town._\n\n21. Elizabeth Donnan, \"The New England Slave Trade after the Revolution,\" **New England Quarterly,** 3 (Number 2, April 1930): 251\u2013278, 257: \"James DeWolfe [ _sic_ ] elected to the Senate for the United States in 1820, had by that time accumulated a fortune in the slave trade.\" On this Senator, see also Joseph Curtis to Timothy Pickering, 10 January 1817, HR 14AC17.4, S.29, Record Group 233, **Records of House of Representatives, Select Committee on African Slave Trade,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n22. See e.g. Walter Minchinton, et al., eds., **Virginia Slave Trade Statistics, 1698\u20131775,** Richmond: Virginia State Library, 1984, 77, 79, 83, 165, 173.\n\n23. Ibid., Eric Anderson, \"Yankee Blackbirds: Northern Entrepreneurs and the Illegal International Slave Trade,\" 8.\n\n24. Ibid., William Law Mathieson, **Great Britain and the Slave Trade, 1839\u20131865,** 138.\n\n25. See, **\"Synopsis of U.S. District Court of Louisiana Case Papers\"** re: \"importation of slaves into any port or place within the jurisdiction of the United States,\" _Tulane University\u2013New Orleans_ : numerous cases are listed including e.g. #216, \"U.S. vs. Schooner L'Esperence, 1809, bringing slaves from Cuba to New Orleans.\" There are numerous such cases listed, suggesting that Africans were routinely trans-shipped from this island to the U.S. See also #326, \"U.S. vs. James Metcalf,\" 1810; #376, U.S. vs. William Carter and U.S. vs. Louis Aury, 1810, concerns \"Santo Domingo,\" i.e., \"Portuguese brigantine that arrived some time ago in this port,\" New Orleans \"with one hundred and six or eight Negroes on board\"; U.S. vs. Schooner Cometa, 1816, bringing Negroes from Colombia to Jamaica to New Orleans; #1095, \"Don Juan Constante,\" concerning bringing 186 Africans to New Orleans in 1817 via Africa and Havana; #1183, U.S. vs. Brig Joseph and cargo, 1818, involving Venezuela; #1685, U.S. vs. J. B. Zangronis, 1821; Like 1809, another year when slave trading cases increased dramatically, something similar occurred in 1821. See also #2904, 1830. Some of these cases concern individuals seeking to sell their Negroes upon arriving in New Orleans, e.g. #1432, U.S. vs. Schooner Mary, 1819, involving a resident of Puerto Rico. The controversy surrounding the jump in the enslaved population of the U.S. from, say, 1790\u20131820, i.e., whether it was due substantially to natural increase should also take into account the trans-shipments from the hemisphere, which were a routine part of slave commerce. See James McMillin, **The Final Victims: Foreign Slave Trade into North America, 1783\u20131810,** Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2004.\n\n26. See Letter from Evan Lewis, Wilmington, Delaware, 23 December 1816, Record Group 233, HR 14AC17.4; S29, **Records of House of Representatives, Select Committee on African Slave Trade** : In the same file, see the following: Letter from Isaac Briggs, 5 February 1817; Letter of Elisha Tyson, 3 January 1817. Isaac Briggs to Timothy Pickering, 24 December 1816. See also Deposition of Francis Scott Key, 22 April 1816. In same Record Group, see also the records of the **Select Committee to Inquire into Humane and Illegal Traffic of Slaves in Washington, D.C.** : Report by Baltimore Grand Jury, circa 1816. See also Letter to John Randolph, \"Chairman of the Committee for Investigating the Conduct of Traffickers in Slaves and Kidnappers in the United States,\" 29 April 1816.\n\n27. Ibid., Leslie Bethell, **The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade,** 299.\n\n28. **Report of the Committee to Which Was Referred So Much of the President's Message as Relates to the African Slave Trade.** February 9, 1821, E446\/U45, _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._\n\n29. U.S. Department of State. **Message from the President of the United States, Transmitting (In Pursuance of a Resolution of the House of the Representatives of the 4th Ultimo) Information on the Subject of the African Slave Trade,** Washington, D.C.: Gales & Seaton, 1821, _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._\n\n30. **Report of Mr. Kennedy of Maryland. The Committee on Commerce of the House of Representatives of the United States on the Memorial of the Friends of African Colonization Assembled in Convention in the City of Washington, May 1842 . . . Together with all the Diplomatic Correspondence Between the United States and Great Britain on the Subject of the African Slave Trade,** 27th Congress, 3rd Session. Report No. 283, Washington, D.C.: Gales & Seaton, 1843, 290, _Huntington Library\u2013San Marino, California._\n\n31. Ibid., Leslie Bethell, **The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade,** 23. See also \"Private Papers Relating to the Negotiation in London Between the British Plenipotentiaries and the Plenipotentiary on the Part of the United States of America, January to August 1824,\" FO 414\/2 and \"Conven\u00e7\u00e3o Addicional ao Tratado de 22 de Janeiro de 1815 entre os muito altos e muito Ponderosos Senhores de Portugal, do Brazil, e Algarves e el-Rei do Reino Unido da Grande Bretanha e Irlanda: Feita em Londres Pelos Plenipotenciarios de huma e Outra Corte em 28 de Julho de 1817 e ratificada por Ambas. . . . Rio de Janeiro na Impress\u00e3o Regia 1817.\" FO 129\/15, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ See also Robert Thorpe, **A Commentary on the Treaties Entered into Between His Britannic Majesty and his Most FaithfulMajesty .** . ., London: Longman, Hurst, Rees and Brown, 1819. See also Anti-Piracy Treaty re: \"Negros en la Costa de Africa,\" 6 October 1824, S10-C2-A1-3, _Archivo General de la Naci\u00f3n\u2013Buenos Aires._ See also Hugh G. Soulsby, **The Right of Search and the Slave Trade in Anglo-American Relations, 1814\u20131862,** Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1933, 35. See also Dieudonne Gnammankou, \"The Slave Trade to Russia,\" in Ibid., Doudou Diene, **From Chains to Bonds,** 65\u201373.\n\n32. Ananias Dortano Brasahemeco, **Rights of Portugal in Reference to Great Britain and the Question of the Slave Trade,** no city, no publisher, 1840, 154, _New York Historical Society._\n\n33. **Message from the President of the United States. Transmitting the Information Required by a Resolution of the House of Representatives, of 27th February last, in Relation to the Suppression of the African Slave Trade.** 18th Congress, 1st Session. Washington, D.C.: Gales & Seaton, 1824. _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._\n\n34. U.S. Congress. House of Representatives. 19th Congress, 1st Session. Report 281: **Suppression of the Slave Trade,** 22 May 1826. _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._ See also \"Information Concerning the Present State of the Slave Trade,\" 1824, 23\u201324, Tw*99v2, _Historical Society of Pennsylvania\u2013Philadelphia_ : \"During the year 1822 it has been estimated from the best information that can be obtained, that an aggregate of _one hundred thousand_ slaves have been torn from Africa and carried into the American colonies\u2014and some of them into the United States. . . . this country indeed is the _only neighboring market to which they can be taken._ . . . a trade in slaves has been carried on upon the southern coast of the United States. That the vigilance of the United States' vessels cruising there, has _only checked,_ not abolished that trade\" [emphasis-original].\n\n35. See e.g. George Graham, Esq., to U.S. Secretary of State, 9 September 1818, in Ibid., **Report of Mr. Kennedy of Maryland,** E448\/U57.\n\n36. See e.g. William C. Davis, **The Pirates Laffite: The Treacherous World of the Corsairs of the Gulf,** Orlando: Harcourt, 2005, 155, 326; Steven Deyle, **Carry Me Back: The Domestic Slave Trade in American Life,** New York: Oxford University Press, 2005.\n\n37. See Document, 16 October 1817, in Mary Jo-Kline, ed., **Political Correspondence and Public Papers of Aaron Burr,** Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983, 1171\u20131172.\n\n38. Ibid., Richard Carl Froehlich, \"The United States Navy and Diplomatic Relations with Brazil, 1822\u20131871.\"\n\n39. Joseph Ray to John Quincy Adams, 18 February 1818, T344, Roll 1, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco, Brazil, 1817\u20131906,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n40. John Quincy Adams, U.S. State Department, to Don Manuel H. de Aguirre, 27 August 1818, S10-C1-A5-1, _Archivo General de la Naci\u00f3n\u2013Buenos Aires._ Of course, this nation\u2014though not as blatantly as neighboring Brazil\u2014was also implicated in the African Slave Trade: See Document, unclear date, S10C-43A-8-2, **Tribunal de Cuentas Esclavos-Juzgados, 1810\u20131813** ; see also Legado No. 22, 9-31-1-8, 1802: re: African Slave Trade. In this same file see the 28 September 1801 document concerning buying of 25 slaves [\"veinte y cinco esclavos\"] at 30 pesos per slave [\"treinta pesos por cada esclavo\"]; see also Report of a 14 November 1804 voyage to Africa, arriving in Montevideo with 301 enslaved Africans: _Archivo General de la Naci\u00f3n\u2013Buenos Aires_ : \"ha vendido . . . negra Angola llamada Ana,\" i.e., the sale of an Angola woman in the area north of B.A. Though the U.S. did not open diplomatic relations with Haiti\u2014not least because of the slavery issue\u2014until decades later, at this early date, the nation that was to become Argentina was moving in that direction. See exchange of letters between Alejandro Petion of Haiti and the \"Director Supremo de las Provincias Unidas del Rio de la Plata,\" 18 November 1816, S10-C1-A10-3, _Archivo General de la Naci\u00f3n._\n\n41. John Graham to John Quincy Adams, 1 August 1819, Record Group 84, Volume 007, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n42. John Graham to Minister of Foreign Affairs, 18 October 1819, Record Group 84, Volume 007, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.** See also **Message from the President of the United States, Transmitting Copies of a Correspondence with the Governor of Brazil in Relation to an Alleged Blockade by the Naval Force of Brazil, the Imprisonment of American Citizens and the Demand Made by the Charge d'Affaires of the U.S. of His Passports and the Cause Thereof,** 20th Congress, 1st Session, Ex. Doc. No. 281, House of Representatives, Washington, D.C.: Gales & Seaton, 1828.\n\n43. **Freedom's Journal,** 14 September 1827. See also **Correspondence Between Senhor Jose Silvestre Rebello, Charges des Affaires of HM the Emperor of Brazil, Resident at Washington . . . and Citizens Antonio Gonsalves da Cruz, Consul General of the Same Empire, Resident in Philadelphia,** Philadelphia: Stavely & Bringhurst, 1824. _American Antiquarian Society\u2013Worcester, Massachusetts._\n\n44. Ibid., Robert M. Levine and John J. Crocitti, eds., **The Brazil Reader,** 351.\n\n45. Mary C. Karasch, **Slave Life in Rio de Janeiro, 1808\u20131850,** Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987, 3. See also U.S. Consul to Abel P. Upshur, Secretary of State, 20 December 1843, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco** : \"the death of one of our fellow countrymen at this place, he was a mulatto and was named Samuel Smith, his occupation that of innkeeper and his house was known as the Union Hotel. . . . originally from Maryland but has been many years in this place as also in Bogota.\" He left a sizeable estate. See also G. T. Snow, U.S. Consul to John C. Calhoun, U.S. Secretary of State, 17 August 1844, Roll 3: \"my painful duty to advise [of] the death of a fellow countryman. . . . William H. Nicholson, a black . . . native of Philadelphia . . . discharged from the Barque Globe of that port and being subsequently seized with fits was placed by men in the British Hospital.\" U.S. Consul to Lewis Cass, Secretary of State, 20 May 1858, Roll 5: \"the death of George Eldridge, a black seaman. . . . he died. . . . his death is supposed to have been caused by injuries received in a fight with another man.\" Strikingly, the U.S. State Department was directly involved in selling enslaved Africans belonging to U.S. nationals in Brazil who died without wills. See Charles Smith to Daniel Webster, 15 June 1841, Record Group 59, Roll 1, T478, **Records of the Department of State, Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para, Brazil,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland_ : \"The slave Antonio Maria belonging to said estate [of Hayward Pierce] and at that time disposed of, in consequence of some difference of opinion among the heirs whether he should be sold or not has since by my orders been sold at public auction, in conformity with the General Consular instructions, and vouchers of which I have on this occasion, transmitted to the Treasury Department together with the balance amounting to Two hundred ninety nine dollars four and a half cents.\" See also John Gillmer, U.S. Consul to \"His Excellency Francisco Gonsalves Martins, President of the Province of Bahia,\" 5 April 1852, Record Group 59, Roll 1, T331, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia** : William Harris of New York had just died and in his estate was a \"black girl named Joanna . . . now in the house of the undersigned for safekeeping. . . . and the undersigned presumes that his heirs in the United States would hardly consent that she should be again sold into slavery,\" though he would deliver her to the \"competent authority.\"\n\n46. Ibid., Leslie Bethell, **The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade,** 42.\n\n47. Condy Raguet to John Quincy Adams, 5 October 1824, **Condy Raguet Papers,** _Historical Society of Pennsylvania._\n\n48. Manolo G. Florentino, \"Slave Trading and Slave Traders in Rio de Janeiro, 1790\u20131830,\" in Ibid., Curto and Lovejoy, eds., **Enslaving Connections,** 57\u201379, 57.\n\n49. James Bennett to John Quincy Adams, 1 August 1821, Roll 1, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco.** See also Statement by R. S. Long, 15 July 1821, Roll 1: \"I left the island of [?] . . . in the Portuguese sloop . . . with 35 slaves as cargo. . . . voyage was illegal. . . . I have suffered. . . . I have been in prison 22 months.\"\n\n50. Ibid., David Eltis, **Economic Growth and the Ending of the Transatlantic Slave Trade,** 195.\n\n51. Francisco Vidal Luna and Herbert S. Klein, **Slavery and the Economy of S\u00e3o Paulo, 1750\u20131850,** Stanford: Stanford University Press, 55.\n\n52. See Translated Document, circa 1854, FO 128\/48, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n53. F. Torres Texugo, **A Letter on the Slave Trade Still Carried On along the Eastern Coast of Africa Called the Province of Mozambique,** London: J. Hatchard & Son, 1839, 20, 41, 57. The author also speaks of an illness called \"Itacas\" which supposedly only afflicted European males after sexual intercourse; they received chills, cold, intense pain in the back of the neck and loins and could be fatal. The cure was to burn the patient with sea sand put aflame, which was placed in a linen napkin and rubbed slowly over the body but particularly on the parts affected; \"the blacks are exempt from this disorder which is more fatal in Quilimane, on the mainland, than in the island of Mozambique.\"\n\n54. Rudolph Said-Ruete, **Said Bin Sultan, Ruler of Oman and Zanzibar, His Place in the History of Arabia and East Africa,** London: Alexander-Ouseley, 1929, 125. See \"Brig Ann,\" 1827\u20131829, Box 29-30-31, #91-20, 1827A4: registered in Salem, this ship visited Zanzibar, Mombasa, Comoros Islands, etc.; Log of \"Ship Louisa,\" 1826\u20131829, Box 29-30-31, #91-65, 1826L: **The Essex Institute Collections, Manuscript Logs and Journals,** _Peabody Essex Museum\u2013Salem, Massachusetts._\n\n55. See e.g. Norman Robert Bennett, \"Americans in Zanzibar: 1825\u20131845,\" **Essex Institute Historical Collections,** 95 (Number 3, 1959): 239\u2013262.\n\n56. Ibid., Manuscript by Cyrus Brady, 1948.\n\n57. John H. Galey, \"Salem's Trade with Brazil, 1801\u20131870,\" **Essex Institute Historical Collections,** 107 (1971): 198\u2013222, 206. See also Ibid., Leslie Bethell, **The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade,** 189.\n\n58. Cyrus Townsend Brady, Jr., **Commerce and Conquest in East Africa,** Salem: The Essex Institute, 1950, 98.\n\n59. See letter, 26 September 1836, Box 3, Folder 8, **Gardner Family Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._ See also **Putnam Family Papers,** Box 1, at same site, for further detail on U.S. trade with Brazil in the 1830s.\n\n60. Kabengele Munanga, \"The African Presence in Brazil,\" in Ibid., Doudou Diene, 302\u2013315, 302.\n\n61. H. M. Brackenridge, **To Buenos Ayres, Performed in the Years 1817 and 1818, By Order of the American Government,** London: Sir Richard Phillips, 1820, 20, 19, 30, 33: \"the prejudice with respect to complexion, did not appear to me as strong as in the United States. This may be owing to the great number of persons of colour, who own large fortunes and possess wealth and consequence. I remarked several mulatto priests, and in one instance a Negro. . . . the Inquisition was never established here, very fortunately for the Jews, who are numerous and whose outward conformity has never been strictly scrutinized.\"\n\n62. Henry Bradley, **Voyage from the United States to South America Performed During the Years 1821, 1822 & 1823,** Newburyport: Herald Press, 1823, 36.\n\n63. Manoel Cardozo, \"Slavery in Brazil as Described by Americans, 1822\u20131888,\" **The Americas,** 17 (Number 3, January 1961): 241\u2013260, 241, 244, 255.\n\n64. Thomas H. Bennett, **A Voyage from the United States to South America,** Newburyport: Herald Press, 1823, 12.\n\n65. Ibid., Thomas H. Bennett.\n\n66. Ibid., Rev. Robert Walsh, **Notices of Brazil in 1828 and 1829, Volume 1,** 83, 257; **Volume 2,** 179.\n\n67. **The Standard and River Plate News** [Buenos Ayres], 15 April 1866.\n\n68. **The Cosmopolitan** [Buenos Ayres], 7 December 1831.\n\n69. **The Cosmopolitan,** 4 January 1832: \"while taking his supper . . . he overheard three African Negroes, one of whom appeared to be a servant of our own, conversing in Arabic, a language he himself spoke fluently, respecting the intended robbery.\"\n\n70. **The Cosmopolitan,** 4 January 1832; **The Cosmopolitan,** 20 June 1832.\n\n71. Condy Raguet to Henry Clay, 26 October 1825, **Condy Raguet Official Letters, 1824\u20131827,** _Historical Society of Pennsylvania\u2013Philadelphia._\n\n72. Condy Raguet to John Quincy Adams, 12 May 1825, **Condy Raguet Official Letters.**\n\n73. Report, 17 December 1833, Record Group 84, Volume 012, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._ The U.S. authorities kept a close eye on the Brazilian military, especially its composition. See e.g. Condy Raguet to John Quincy Adams, 5 October 1824, **Condy Raguet Official Letters.** Condy Raguet to John Quincy Adams, 31 January 1825, **Condy Raguet Official Letters.** See also Raguet to Henry Clay, 20 March 1826. See also Condy Raguet to John Quincy Adams, 11 March 1825, Condy Raguet Official Letters. Condy Raguet to John Quincy Adams, 12 May 1825.\n\n74. Report to U.S. Secretary of State from Rio de Janeiro, 3 September 1831, Record Group 84, Volume 013, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.**\n\n75. Berlarmin C. Condo, \"Returning Afro-Brazilians,\" in Ibid., Doudou Diene, **From Chains to Bonds,** 55\u201364, 56.\n\n76. Joseph Ray to Secretary of State John Forsyth, 29 March 1838, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco** : \"the place was fired in many directions and commenced burning furiously; spirits of turpentine & other combustible materials having been prepared many days previous.\"\n\n77. Condy Raguet to Henry Clay, 12 April 1826, Record Group 84, Volume 009, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil** ; see also Condy Raguet to John Quincy Adams, 1 February 1823, Record Group 84, Volume 008, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.** See e.g. U.S. Congress. House of Representatives. Committee on Foreign Affairs, 20th Congress, 1st Session. Report No. 212, 25 March 1828: \"attack upon\" the \"character\" of Raguet, who \"had been bribed by the Government of Buenos Ayres to pursue measures designed to interrupt the harmony between the Governments of the United States and Brazil.\"\n\n78. Condy Raguet to Henry Clay, 14 February 1826, **Condy Raguet Official Letters.**\n\n79. Condy Raguet to Henry Clay, 23 November 1825, **Condy Raguet Official Letters.**\n\n80. Report, 16 December 1837, Record Group 84, Volume 017, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.** See also Condy Raguet to Henry Clay, 31 October 1826, **Condy Raguet Official Letters** : \"Monarchy has been thrice attempted in America, but without success. Dessalines, Christophe and Iturbide afford sad examples of the instability of illegitimate moves in this hemisphere of liberty\"\u2014and Brazil's Emperor was thought to be no different.\n\n81. See Report, 18 July 1834, \"Oficio do Consul Brasiliero na Filadelfia,\" Oficios, 233\/3\/1, _Arquivo Historico do Itamary_ : \"graves desordens em Nova Iorque\" [grave disorder in New York] including destruction of certain churches [\"destruicao de certas igrejas\"] with an issue being whether Jesus Christ was a mulatto [\"Jesus Christo era um mulatto\"].\n\n82. Martin Van Buren to Don Miguel Calmon, 25 May 1830, MS 1467, **William Wright Papers,** _Maryland Historical Society\u2013Baltimore._\n\n83. \"Dear Sirs,\" from Baltimore, 13 January 1836, Box 2, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers,** _Maryland Historical Society\u2013Baltimore._\n\n84. William Wright to Maxwell Wright in Rio de Janeiro, 14 January 1836, Box 2, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers.**\n\n85. Letter from William Wright, 9 January 1835, Box 2, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers.**\n\n86. See \"Letter Book of William Wright, Consul of the U.S. of America Rio de Janeiro 1826,\" Box 4, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers.**\n\n87. See Letter, 1831, Box 2, **WrightMay-Thom Family Papers.**\n\n88. Letter, 29 April 1837, Box 2, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers.**\n\n89. George W. Slocum, U.S. Consul in Rio de Janeiro to John Forsyth, Secretary of State, 16 October 1839, in Ibid., **Report of Mr. Kennedy . . .**\n\n90. Report from George Elliot, Royal Navy, 22 July 1839, in Ibid., **Report of Mr. Kennedy . . .** In same document see also H. S. Fox to John Forsyth, 19 August 1840: In 1838 \"nineteen vessels and in the year 1839 twenty-three vessels bearing the flag of the Union [U.S.] left Havana for the coast of Africa, under the strongest suspicion of being engaged in the slave trade.\"\n\n91. Congressman Charles Miner, \"An Extract from a Speech . . . in the House of Representatives of the United States in 1829 on the Subject of Slavery and the Slave Trade in the District of Columbia with Notes,\" A67, 973.7112, _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n92. U.S. Congress. House of Representatives. 19th Congress, 1st Session, Letter from the Secretary of the Navy, Samuel L. Southard, Doc. No. 119, 7 March 1826, Rare Pam. 2351, _Maryland Historical Society\u2013Baltimore._\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 2\n\n1. Ibid., Joseph E. Inikori, \"The Struggle against the Transatlantic Slave Trade,\" 170\u2013171.\n\n2. John Oriji, \"Igboland, Slavery and the Drums of War and Heroism,\" in Ibid., Sylviane A. Diouf, ed., **Fighting the Slave Trade,** 121\u2013131, 129.\n\n3. Ibid., C. Herbert Gilliland, ed., **Voyage to a Thousand Cares: Master's Mate Lawrence with the African Squadron, 1844\u20131846,** 73.\n\n4. George Coggeshall, **Thirty Six Voyages to Various Parts of the World, Made Between the Years 1799 and 1841,** New York: Library Editions, 1970 [orig. published 1858], 551.\n\n5. Joseph Story, \"Piracy and the Slave Trade,\" in William W. Story, ed., **The Miscellaneous Writings of Joseph Story,** Boston: Charles C. Little and James Brown, 1852, 122\u2013147, 141.\n\n6. E. I. Barra, **A Tale of Two Oceans,** San Francisco: E. I. Barra, 1893, 92. See also **Reports in Congress: Slavery Agitation and John Brown,** 1860, 370835-49 [unclear provenance], _Huntington Library_ : N. P. Trist, U.S. Consul in Havana to U.S. Secretary of State, 28 September 1840: \"to break up the slave trade from Africa to Cuba, would be to injuriously affect, at least in a commercial point of view, the prosperity of that island; whilst, to leave the same slave-trade free to flow from Africa to Brazil, would be to confer a benefit upon that portion of our continent. . . . the trade to Cuba is to that of Brazil as six to ten. For every six vessels captured on their way to Cuba, there ought, therefore to be ten captured on their way to Brazil,\" yet since 1838, \"of the slavers captured in the five preceding years, not quite _one-tenth_ [emphasis-original] were destined to Brazil or fitted out from thence!\" He suggested that London concentrated on the trade to Cuba since it was more closely tied to the U.S. than Brazil; \"and it is but recently that the idea of stimulating Brazil as a cotton growing country, by means of British capital, into rivalry with the United States, has been relinquished for the plan of accomplishing the same end with the _free_ labor of Hindoostan.\"\n\n7. See e.g. Campbell J. Dalrymple to Lord Palmerston, 19 January 1839, in Ibid., **Report of Mr. Kennedy of Maryland,** _Huntington Library_ : On one slave voyage a single ship makes \"nearly $300,000, of which, therefore, two-thirds was net profit. So long as such returns can be effected, we fear that no efforts whatever will be effectual in suppressing this traffic.\"\n\n8. Ibid., Richard Carl Froelich, \"The United States Navy and Diplomatic Relations with Brazil, 1822\u20131871,\" 371, 375. For an intriguing account of the African Squadron, see Harry Gringo, **Tales for the Marines,** Boston: Phillips, Sampson, 1855. See also Horatio Bridge, **Journal of an African Cruiser: Comprising Sketches of the Canaries, the Cape de Verds, Liberia, Madeira, Sierra Leone and other Places of Interest on the West Coast of Africa,** New York: Putnam, 1853, 177.\n\n9. See Charles Bell, Lieutenant Commander, U.S. Brig Dolphin to Hon. James K. Paulding, Secretary of the Navy, 28 July 1840, 534\u20136, in Ibid., **Report of Mr. Kennedy of Maryland.**\n\n10. Robert Edgar Conrad, ed., **In the Hands of Strangers: Readings on Foreign and Domestic Slave Trading and the Crisis of the Union,** University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2001, 93.\n\n11. See Lord Palmerston to Mr. Stevenson, 27 August 1841, in Ibid., **Report of Mr. Kennedy of Maryland,** _Huntington Library._ See also H. S. Fox, U.K. to John Forsyth, 30 October 1839, in Ibid., **Report of Mr. Kennedy of Maryland.**\n\n12. William Peter to Lord Palmerston, 17 February 1851, FO 115\/117, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ See also Peyton Skipwith to John H. Cocke, 20 May 1839, in Bell Wiley, ed., **Slaves No More: Letters from Liberia, 1833\u20131869,** Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1980, 48\u201349: \"I see daily the Star Spangled Banner unfurled on the coast of Africa as a protection for the slaver to keep the British man of wars from takeing [ _sic_ ] them. . . . a disgrace to her banner.\"\n\n13. **American Sentinel,** [Bath], 14 May 1857, Box 3, Folder, \"Slavery\/Slave Trade,\" **African-Americans in Maine Collection,** _Maine Historical Society\u2013Portland._\n\n14. Ibid., Lt. Pegram Harrison, \"A Blind Eye Toward the Slave Trade.\"\n\n15. **Freedom's Journal,** 28 December 1828.\n\n16. **Frederick Douglass' Paper,** 8 April 1853.\n\n17. **North Star,** 5 October 1849. See also **Colored American,** 3 August 1839.\n\n18. Ibid., Eric Anderson, \"Yankee Blackbirds,\" 309.\n\n19. See U.S. Department of State. **Message from the President of the United States. Transmitting Copies of Dispatches from the American Minister at the Court of Brazil, Relative to the Slave Trade.** 20 February 1845. House Documents, Serial No. 148, Doc. 148, 28th Congress, 2nd Session: George William Gordon, U.S. Consul, Rio de Janeiro, to Henry Wise, 23 September 1844: \"The Brig 'Sooy' . . . owned at Bahia and was recently sold there by American owners\" was \"captured\" with \"580 slaves . . . landed from her near Bahia.\" See also U.S. Department of State. **Message from the President of the United States. Information in Relation to the Abuse of the Flag of the United States in Subservience of the African Slave Trade, and the Taking Away of Slaves the Property of Portuguese Subjects.** 14 March 1844. Senate Documents, Serial No. 434, Doc. No. 217, 28th Congress, 1st Session.\n\n20. Ibid., Senate Documents, Serial No. 434, Doc. No. 217: Brazilian Legation in Philadelphia to U.S. Secretary of State, Abel P. Upshur, 10 July 1843: An \"American whaling barque . . . the 'Romulus' . . . kidnapped or carried away . . . on the 18th of July 1842, from Maio, one of the Cape Verde islands, a valuable Negro man, named Pedro Timas, represented as a good sailor, an excellent swimmer and a superior diver . . . belonging to Antonio Soares Timas\"\u2014and he wanted his Negro back. See also Brazilian Legation to Abel Upshur, 23 November 1843: Captain Daniel Borden of the \"American whaling barque, the 'Pantheon' of Fall River,\" Massachusetts, while in Cape Verde kidnapped a \"young, intelligent and valuable Negro, named Marcelino, a journeyman carpenter and sailor.\"\n\n21. Lord Howden to Lord Palmerston, 12 November 1847, in **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 34, 1847\u20131848.** Shannon: Irish University Press, 1969, 251. British Library\u2013London.\n\n22. **Message of the President of the United States,** 31st Congress, 2nd Session, Ex. Doc. 6, 17 December 1850, Report from R. M. Hamilton, U.S. Consul in Montevideo. See also Carl Norman Haywood, \"American Whalers and Africa,\" Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University, 1967, 26, 29, 33, 36, 41, 45, 54, 133, 134.\n\n23. Consul Archibald in New York to Lord Lyons, 1 February 1861, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 47.**\n\n24. Commander Andrew H. Foote, **Africa and the American Flag,** New York: Appleton, 1854, 347.\n\n25. Abel P. Upshur to Matthew Perry, 30 March 1843, in Kenneth E. Shewmaker, et al., eds., **The Papers of Daniel Webster: Diplomatic Papers, Volume 1, 1841\u20131843,** Hanover: University Press of New England, 1983, 817\u2013823.\n\n26. Joseph C. Dorsey, **Slave Traffic in the Age of Abolition: Puerto Rico, West Africa and the Non-Hispanic Caribbean, 1815\u20131859,** Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2003, 202\u2013203.\n\n27. C. Wise to Secretary of Admiralty, 28 October 1858, FO 541\/1, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ See also Ibid., C. Herbert Gilliland, ed., **Voyage to a Thousand Cares,** 5: An \"American crew might sail an American-flag ship to Africa, taking along as passengers a second crew composed of Portuguese, Spaniards or other non-U.S. citizens. These, as slaves were about to be loaded, a prearranged 'sale' would be transacted, turning the ship over to the second crew under a new flag. The second (non-American) crew would take the ship and slaves back across the Atlantic.\"\n\n28. Rev. J. Leighton Wilson, **The British Squadron of the Coast of Africa,** London: James Ridgway, 1851, 26. See also Mary W. Tyler Gray, **Stories of the Early American Missionaries in South Africa,** no date, no publisher, _National Library of South Africa\u2013Cape Town._\n\n29. Lieutenant Forbes, **Six Months Service in the African Blockade from April to October 1848 in Command of HMS Bonetta,** London: Bentley, 1849, vi, 101, 105. See also James Riley, **Loss of the American Brig Commerce Wrecked on the Western Coast of Africa in the Month of August 1815 with an Account of Tombuctoo, and the Hitherto Undiscovered Great City of Wassanah,** London: John Murray, 1817.\n\n30. Ibid., C. Herbert Gilliland, ed., **Voyage to a Thousand Cares,** 80\u201381.\n\n31. Deposition of George Slocum at Rio de Janeiro, 11 September 1841, vfm 190, _G. W. Blunt White Library\u2013Mystic, Connecticut._\n\n32. Abdul Sheriff, **Slaves, Spices and Ivory in Zanzibar,** London: James Currey, 1987, 47. See also Rudy Bauss, \"The Portuguese Slave Trade from Mozambique to Portuguese India and Macau, and Comments on Timor, 1759\u20131850: New Evidence from the Archives,\" **Cameos Center Quarterly,** 6\/7 (Number 1 & 2, Summer\/ Fall 1997): 21\u201326. See also \"The Journal of an African Slaver, 1789\u20131792,\" **Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society,** 39 (October 16, 1929): 379\u2013465.\n\n33. Charles H. Bell and John S. Paine to Daniel Webster, 10 May 1842, in Ibid., Kenneth E. Shewmaker, et al., eds., **The Papers of Daniel Webster: Diplomatic Papers, Volume 1, 1841\u20131843,** 550\u2013556.\n\n34. Cornwallis Rickets to Rear-Admiral Dacres, 29 April 1847, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 34.**\n\n35. James Hudson to Lord Palmerston, 16 December 1848, in **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 55, Number 36, 1849.** See also R. W. Beachey, **The Slave Trade of Eastern Africa,** London: Rex Collings, 1976, 20: \"British naval forces were pitifully inadequate for the task facing them. . . . the demands made on its dozen ships were excessive. Five vessels alone were on patrol at St. Helena during the exile of Napoleon there, until his death in 1821. Not more than one or two ships ever got as far north as Quelimane [East Africa]. Two vessels could not effectively keep watch over the whole East African coast and western shores of Madagascar. . . . in 1854, Commodore Talbot had only three vessels to deploy between Delagoa Bay and Zanzibar, over 1300 miles of coastline\"; besides, \"slavers were well informed as to the movements of these few British cruisers\"; see also Lieutenant Barnard, R.N., **Three Years Cruize in the Mozambique Channel for the Suppression of the Slave Trade,** London: Bentley, 1848, 50, 51.\n\n36. Vice-Admiral Dacres to the Secretary of the Admiralty, 1 December 1848, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 55, Number 36.**\n\n37. Lord Russell, London to Sir A. Magenis, Mozambique, 16 April 1861, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 47.**\n\n38. Percival J. Parris, \"Pedro Tovookan Parris,\" **Old-Time New England,** 63 (Number 3, January-March 1973): 61\u201368, 62, 67. See also Inventory, **George Frost Richardson Papers,** _Maine Historical Society\u2013Portland_ : Richardson of Brunswick, Maine, owned the ship that brought Parris across the Atlantic, the \"Porpoise.\" Said ship was commanded by Cyrus Libby of Scarborough, Maine when it was seized in Brazil by the USS Raritan. Libby wound up as a school-teacher in Australia. Gordon, born in Exeter, New Hampshire, attended Phillips Exeter where he was \"valedictorian\"; by 1830 he was heading an importing firm, then served on the Boston City Council from 1831 to 1836. He became a Whig and was appointed as a Consul in Rio, where he served from 1843\u20131846.\n\n39. See Clipping, 28 February 1988, _Maine Historical Society._ The adopted father of Pedro Parris, Virgil Parris, was a \"square-jawed Jacksonian, former Congressman, one-time acting Governor of Maine and an amateur astronomer.\" He had \"taken a liking to Pedro during the long trial\" of his captors. After the trial he took him to his house \"high above the wilds of Oxford County, Paris Hill was the 19th century's American Acropolis. Topped by great elms and white mansions, it was a hotbed of Maine's antislavery movement and the hometown of more Congressmen, Cabinet members and Senators\u2014including future Vice President Hannibal Hamlin\u2014than any other square mile of America.\" Though a \"sense of loneliness colors accounts of Pedro's life in Maine\"\u2014\"his closest friends were children\"\u2014when he died, \"his funeral\" was \"one of the most fully attended that had been held in the village.\" Ibid., Percival J. Parris.\n\n40. For various affidavits, contracts, and letters cited herein see \"U.S. vs. Cyrus Libby, May Term 1846, General Case Files, U.S. Circuit Court for District of Maine, Records of Circuit Courts of United States,\" Record Group 21, _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013Waltham, Massachusetts._\n\n41. Deposition of Mark Tanner, 7 January 1845, Roll 18, **Letters Received by the Secretary of the Navy from Commanding Officers of Squadrons, 1841\u20131886, Brazil Squadron,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013Washington, D.C._ Hereafter designated as **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n42. U.D. Congress. House of Representatives. 2nd Session. 12 March 1849. Ex. Doc. No. 61, **Correspondence Between the Consuls of the United States at Rio de Janeiro, & with the Secretary of State on Subject of the African Slave Trade.**\n\n43. Deposition of Charles Hendricks, 7 February 1845 in Ibid., Roll 18, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n44. Deposition of John Williams, circa 1845, in Ibid., Roll 18, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n45. \"Examination of Guilheme, an African boy,\" 28 April 1845 and \"Statement of George Williams,\" 13 March 1845, in Ibid., Roll 18, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n46. \"Examination\" of Pedro Parris, 1 February 1845, in Ibid., Roll 18, **Brazil Squadron Letters.** Of course, there were other examples of the U.S. seeking to enforce the law against the slave trade. See e.g. Small's Deposition, Case 15, Box 23, Copy Misc. Mss., **Gratz Mss.,** _Historical Society of Pennsylvania\u2013Philadelphia_ : In February 1845 the \"Sea Eagle\" from Boston was \"lying in the harbor of Rio.\" Z. H. Small of Massachusetts had gone to Cabinda months earlier; he saw on board the U.S. ship \"'Agnes' . . . several hundred Negroes, most of them in the hold but a few on deck. . . . the American flag had been previously taken from the 'Agnes'\" and \"either 485 or 585 Negroes taken on board.\" Another ship flying a U.S. flag, the \"'Monte Video' took on board something over eight hundred Negroes on this occasion.\" See also Ibid., C. Herbert Gilliland, 276: the African Squadron in December 1845 captured a U.S. slaver with \"eight hundred fifty human beings . . . crammed naked below deck into a space of less than 2000 square feet.\" The ship had been built in New Jersey.\n\n47. **Portland Pleasure Boat,** 7 August 1846, _Maine Historical Society\u2013Portland._\n\n48. Testimony of William Page, 12 February 1845, **Correspondence with the British Commissioners at Sierra Leone, Havana, Rio de Janeiro, Surinam, Cape of Good Hope, Jamaica, Loanda, and Boa Vista, Relating to the Slave Trade from January 1 to December 31, 1845, Inclusive . . . ,** London: Parliament, 1846, _Western Reserve Historical Society\u2013Cleveland._\n\n49. Edward Porter to Lord Palmerston, 31 March 1848, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 55, Number 36.**\n\n50. J. Kennedy to Lord Palmerston, 20 December 1849, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 55, Number 36.**\n\n51. A. Oaksmith, Master of U.S. Brig to John Gillmer, 26 July 1852, Record Group 59, Roll 1, T331, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia, Brazil.**\n\n52. Report from Lieutenant Commander Wood, 24 June 1852, Record Group 59, Roll 1, T331, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia, Brazil.**\n\n53. Leslie M. Harris, **In the Shadow of Slavery: African Americans in New York City, 1626\u20131863,** Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2003, 213.\n\n54. Robin Law and Paul E. Lovejoy, eds., **The Biography of Mahommah Gardo Baquaqua: His Passage from Freedom in Africa and America,** Princeton: Markus Weiner, 2001, 45, 61. See also **Diario do Rio de Janeiro,** 4 October 1847; **National Anti-Slavery Standard,** 15 July 1847, 29 July 1847, 12 August 1847.\n\n55. Samuel Moore, **Biography of Mahommah Gardo Baquaqua,** Detroit: George E. Pomeroy, 1854, 6, 9, 34, 35, 44, 45, 48, 51, 56, 58. This narrative can be found at http:\/\/docsouth.unc.edu.\n\n56. Captain Joseph Tucker to Richard Hawley Tucker, 22 August 1848, **Tucker Family Papers,** _Bowdoin College._\n\n57. James Hudson to Lord Palmerston, 5 August 1848, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 55., Number 36.**\n\n58. C. Syvill, Captain, and Senior Officer on the East Coast of Africa to His Excellency, Rodrigo Luciano d'Abreu de Lima, Governor General of Mozambique, 26 May 1847, [translation]: Correspondence of the Mixed Commission at the Cape of Good Hope, 1846\u20131852, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n59. Lt. Paul Gibson to C. Syvill, 20 May 1846, Ibid., Correspondence of the Mixed Commission at the Cape of Good Hope, 1846\u20131852.\n\n60. Letter from Conde Tojal, Department of State for Foreign Affairs, 18 March 1850, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the Portuguese Government, 1850\u20131859, Torre 4, Piso Estante 1, A28, M3, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n61. Letter from J. B. Clay, 30 April 1850 in Ibid., Correspondence of the Portuguese Government, 1850\u20131859.\n\n62. John C. Calhoun to William Figaniere, 19 February 1845, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the U.S. Government, 1835\u20131869, Torre 4, Piso Estante 1, 15, A 28, M17, _Archivo Hist\u00f3ricoDiplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n63. John C. Calhoun to William Figaniere, 24 June 1850, in Ibid., [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the U.S. Government.\n\n64. Edward Everett to William Figaniere, 28 February 1853, in Ibid., [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the U.S. Government. Lisbon was also concerned about how its nationals were treated in the U.S., particularly those deemed to be \"colored.\" See W. Wallace Davis to William Figaniere, 3 March 1853, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the Vice-Consulates of Portugal in the U.S., 1839\u20131887, Torre 4 Piso, Estante 1, 7. A28, M9, _Archivo Hist\u00f3ricoDiplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._ See also John Hampton, Washington, D.C., to William Figaniere, 29 May 1852, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the Foreign Legations and Consulates in the U.S., Torre 4 Piso Estante1, I, A28, M10, _Archivo Hist\u00f3ricoDiplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n65. See e.g. Report from Lt. Matson of Royal Navy, 9 October 1839, in Ibid., **Report of Mr. Kennedy of Maryland,** _Huntington Library_ : \"I captured the Portuguese schooner 'Constituc\u00e3o' . . . having on board 344 slaves. This vessel was sailing under American colors, and by the name of 'Dolphin.'\" Later, \"I captured . . . the Portuguese schooner 'Zete de Abril' having on board 427 slaves and dispatched her to Sierra Leone. . . . I had several times boarded this vessel during the last three months; at which times she was sailing under American colors and by the name of 'Mary Cushing.' . . . it is quite evident that this, as well as all slavers hoisting the American flag are sailing with false colors and papers.\"\n\n66. Lord Palmerston to Sir Hamilton Seymour, 29 March 1847, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 34.**\n\n67. Report of Mixed Commission, 2 January 1849, in Ibid., [translation]: Correspondence of the Mixed Commission at the Cape of Good Hope, 1846\u20131852.\n\n68. Report, 2 June 1851, in Ibid., [translation]: Correspondence of the Mixed Commission at the Cape of Good Hope.\n\n69. See e.g. **Cape Argus,** 22 July 1857; **Natal Mercury,** 2 July 1857.\n\n70. George Stoner to Secretary of Navy, 26 October 1850, in Ibid., Roll 23, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n71. William Graham to George Stoner, 5 November 1850, in Ibid., Roll 23, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n72. See also Report from Rio de La Plata, circa 1850, in Ibid., Roll 23, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n73. Letter from U.S. Department of State, 26 May 1853, in Ibid., Roll 25, **Brazil Squadron Letters.** See also Report from Rio de Janeiro, 22 May 1842, in Ibid., Roll 14, **Brazil Squadron Letters.** See also Nathaniel Hawthorne, ed., **Journal of an African Cruiser . . . by an Officer of the U.S. Navy, [Horatio Bridge],** New York: Wiley and Putnam, 1845, 51.\n\n74. Letter from Andrew Boyd Cummings, 27 December 1853, **Andrew Boyd Cummings Papers,** _U.S. Naval Academy\u2013Annapolis_ : \"Their musical instruments consisted of a barrel with a piece of parchment drawn tight over the head. One darky as black as any of Pluto's disciple sits straddle of one end & beats this sort of drum with his hand while another sits at the other end beating on the barrel with sticks. . . . tis the best place to practice languages I have ever been in that even Macao or Canton. . . . mosquitoes about the size of hummingbirds are buzzing about my ears & making anything else than a pleasant noise.\"\n\n75. Andrew Boyd Cummings to \"Dear Mother,\" 1 February 1858, **Andrew Boyd Cummings Papers** : \"This is the third time we have been here\" in Benguela; \"two Americans in jail here, awaiting their trial on charge of stabbing a man in Fish Bay, they have been here in prison several months.\" He was irked when the \"authorities\" were \"trying to humbug with us when the Captain gave them at a certain time in which to bring them to trial, at the exception of that time he gave them notice he would land a force & take them.\"\n\n76. George Jackson to \"My Lord,\" 20 September 1851, FO 115\/124, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n77. James Hudson to Rear Admiral Reynolds, 3 February 1850, FO 420\/11, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ For the clash over the African Slave Trade in the Brazilian press, see e.g. **Philathropo,** 1 February 1850; **Correio Mercantil,** 20 January 1850; **Correio da Tarde,** 17 January 1850, 21 January 1850.\n\n78. James Hudson to Lord Palmerston, 11 February 1851, FO 420\/11, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n79. Ibid., R. W. Beachey, **The Slave Trade of Eastern Africa,** 20.\n\n80. Letter from Andrew Boyd Cummings, circa 1850, **Andrew Boyd Cummings Papers** : \"the affair between the English & Brazilians has all blown over or rather ended by John Bull carrying the point. The Legislative Assembly was in session at the time of the disturbance & passed or rather revived an old law, prohibiting the importation of slaves under the severest penalties, if some of our disinterested abolitionists could see the condition of the slaves in this place, abolitionism would cease for a while in the United States, in many instances they do not receive the attention given to horses or cattle in other countries.\" He described the Emperor as \"repulsive.\"\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 3\n\n1. Ibid., Francisco Vidal Luna and Herbert S. Klein, **Slavery and the Economy of S\u00e3o Paulo, 1750\u20131850,** 64, 133.\n\n2. Ibid., Robert M. Levine and John J. Crocitti, eds., **The Brazil Reader,** 79, 135: \"the decade of the 1850s was the golden age of coffee and the society based on it in Vassouras. . . . between 1800 and 1852 during the period when some European nations began to turn against the institution of slavery and pressure slave traders to cease, more than 1,600,000 slaves arrived in Brazil.\"\n\n3. Ibid., Joseph C. Dorsey, **Slave Traffic in the Age of Abolition,** 5.\n\n4. See e.g. Ibid., Mary Catherine Karasch, \"The Brazilian Slavers and the Illegal Slave Trade, 1836\u20131851,\" 17, 19, 30: Jose Bernardino de Sa used \"American-built steamers capable of transporting 1000 to 15,000 slaves each trip. He had the 'Cacique' especially built in New York.\" Jenkins and Company, \"founded about 1845 or 1846\" was a leading financier of the trade and \"its leading men consisted of an American from New York named Jenkins.\" \"American calico cloth and other items specifically designed for the African coast were consigned to [Manuel Pinto da Fonseca] in Rio. . . . he then made a pretense of chartering American ships to carry these American as well as British goods to Africa, but actually he bought them. Since American ships were not searched by British cruisers for slave equipment, such as shackles, . . . Fonseca's ship, manned by an American crew, flying an American flag and carrying Portuguese passengers (the crew to bring her back from Angola), then loaded trade goods for the coast.\" See also Ibid., Hugh Thomas, **The Slave Trade,** 739\u2013740.\n\n5. See \"Canning\" to \"Gentlemen,\" 17 May 1843, FO 131\/1, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ On the influx of Africans see **Diario do Rio de Janeiro,** 11 August 1841.\n\n6. See Ship Arrivals from Rio de Janeiro, 1843, Box 3, Folder 9, **Gardner Family Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n7. Ibid., Joseph C. Dorsey, 85.\n\n8. Ibid., Leslie Bethell, **The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade,** 287.\n\n9. Ibid., Eric Anderson, \"Yankee Blackbirds: Northern Entrepreneurs and the Illegal International Slave Trade,\" 281\u2013282.\n\n10. Massachusetts Senate, \"Report and Resolves on the Subject of the Foreign Slave Trade,\" No. 35, February 1839, 973.7111, F26.1, _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n11. Bruno Gujer, \"Free Trade and Slavery: Calhoun's Defense of Southern Interests against British Interference, 1811\u20131848,\" Ph.D. dissertation, University of Zurich, 1971, ii, 115.\n\n12. John C. Calhoun to Lt. James E. Calhoun, 24 December 1826, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **The Papers of John C. Calhoun, Volume 10, 1825\u20131829,** 238\u2013239.\n\n13. John C. Calhoun to Henry A. Wise, 25 May 1844, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 18,** 621.\n\n14. Memo from John C. Calhoun, 12 August 1844, Record Group 84, Volume 017, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.**\n\n15. John C. Calhoun to William King, 12 August 1844, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 19,** 1990.\n\n16. John C. Calhoun to Duff Green, 8 September 1843, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 17,** 445.\n\n17. Duff Green to John C. Calhoun, 18 October 1843, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 17,** 511.\n\n18. Duff Green to Abel Upshur, 17 October 1843, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 17,** 579\u2013580.\n\n19. Ibid., Bruno Gujer, 117.\n\n20. See St. George L. Sioussat, \"Duff Green's 'England and the United States': With an Introductory Study of American Opposition to the Quintuple Treaty of 1841,\" **Proceedings of the American Antiquarian Society,** 40 (15 October 1930): 175\u2013275, 231, 235, 238, 241, 261, 269.\n\n21. Ibid., Robert Pierce Patrick, Jr., \"In the Interest of the South: The Life and Career of Duff Green,\" 204, 209.\n\n22. Report to Abel P. Upshur from Rio de Janeiro, 7 January 1844, Record Group 84, Volume 017, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.**\n\n23. See Lewis Cass to Daniel Webster, 3 October 1842, **Correspondence Between Lewis Cass and Daniel Webster in Relation to the Quintuple Treaty,** Cincinnati: Enquirer, circa 1844, HT 993, C343, **Western Reserve Historical Society,** _Cleveland_ : \"my protest against the ratification of the Quintuple Treaty for the suppression of the African Slave Trade.\" See also Harral C. Landry, \"Slavery and the Slave Trade in Atlantic Diplomacy, 1850\u20131861,\" **Journal of Southern History,** 27 (Number 2, May 1961): 184\u2013207, 192; see also Andrew C. McLaughlin, **Lewis Cass,** New York: Chelsea House, 1980.\n\n24. John M. Baker, **A View of the Commerce Between the United States and Rio de Janeiro,** Washington, D.C.: Office of the Democratic Review, 1838, 5, 53, _G. W. Blunt White Library\u2013Mystic, Connecticut._\n\n25. Margaret Lockhart (Allen) Davis to \"My Dear Father,\" 1843, Box 1, Folder 3, **Allen Family Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n26. Margaret Lockhart (Allen) Davis to \"My Dear Grandfather,\" December 1845, Box 1, Folder 3, **Allen Family Papers.** See also James Birkhead, **Pro-Form Sales and Invoices of Imports and Exports at Rio de Janeiro with Tables, Remarks,** Salem: William Ives & Co., 1838.\n\n27. Chaplin Conway to spouse, 24 April 1849, Box 1, Folder 3, **Chaplin Conway Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._ There was also a Salemite community in Para. See e.g. Letter to \"Dear Friend,\" 8 December 1836, Box 1, Folder 4, **Putnam Family Papers.**\n\n28. Rev. Pasco Grenfell Hill, **Fifty Days on Board a Slave Vessel in the Mozambique Channel in April and May 1843,** New York: J. Winchester, New World Press, 1843, 6.\n\n29. Letter from Rio to Abel P. Upshur, 5 January 1844, Record Group 84, Volume 017, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.**\n\n30. \"List of American Vessels Sold at the Port of Rio de Janeiro,\" Box 1, **George William Gordon Papers,** _New York Public Library._\n\n31. John Crampton, Washington, D.C., to Lord Palmerston, 2 April 1849, FO 84\/773, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ See also \"List of Vessels Under the United States Flag Reported by Her Majesty's Consul at Bahia and Rio de Janeiro\u2014to have cleared out from these Ports for the Coast of Africa from the 1st of January 1848 to the 31st of March 1849,\" FO 84\/773, and \"List of Vessels Under the United States Flag Reported by Her Majesty's Consuls at Bahia and Rio de Janeiro to have entered those ports from the Coast of Africa from the 1st of January to the 31st of March 1849,\" FO 84\/773, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : Of the latter, vessels were sailing mostly from Ambriz, Congo, and Angola.\n\n32. \"Departure of American Vessels from the Port of Rio de Janeiro for the Coast of Africa.\" Box 1, **George William Gordon Papers.**\n\n33. \"Arrivals of American Vessels at the Port of Rio de Janeiro from the Coast of Africa.\" Box 1, **George William Gordon Papers.** See also Brig Cherokee, Box 82\u201385, 91\u201345, 1849: this ship, reputedly implicated in the slave trade, sailed from Salem to Zanzibar, Muscat, Aden, etc.; see also 91\u201373, 1845, Bark Emily Wilder sailed from Salem to East Africa also in pursuit of the slave trade; 91\u201353, 1857, Bark Goldfinch, from Salem to \"Ambriz & Loanda (only)\" for similar purposes.\n\n34. George Gordon to Secretary of State, 27 August 1845, Box 1, **George William Gordon Papers.** On 25 September 1845, Gordon asserted, \"'since the beginning of the year 1840, sixty four American vessels had been sold at the port of Rio\" and \"subsequently employed in the Slave trade, and during the same period there had departed from the port of Rio de Janeiro for the coast of Africa, fifty six American vessels; and forty American vessels had arrived at that port from the Coast, in all ninety six American vessels . . . between Rio and the African continent.'\" See American Party, Massachusetts, State Executive Committee, **The Record of George Gordon .** . ., Boston: The American Headquarters, 1856, _New York Public Library._\n\n35. See **British Packet and Argentine News,** 20 April 1844 and 6 July 1844, _Biblioteca Nacional de Argentina._\n\n36. Ibid., Eric Anderson, \"Yankee Blackbirds: Northern Entrepreneurs and the Illegal International Slave Trade,\" 108, 110, 122, 126, 152, 153, 154, 190, 192. See also Ibid., David R. Murray, **Odious** **Commerce: Britain, Spain and the Abolition of the Cuban Slave Trade,** 104.\n\n37. Ibid., William Law Mathieson, **Great Britain and the Slave Trade, 1839\u20131865,** 164.\n\n38. Robert Hesketh to Lord Palmerston, 19 February 1847, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 34.** See also James Hudson in Rio de Janeiro to Lord Palmerston, 16 December 1848, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers, Volume 55, Number 36, 1849.** See also U.S. Congress. Senate. **Message from the President of the United States,** 28th Congress, 1st Session, _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond_ : Letter from Earl of Aberdeen, 14 March 1844; in same document see George Slocum, U.S. Consul in Rio de Janeiro to Daniel Webster, 5 October 1841: Victor Alexander of the ship \"Sophia\" says \"he is the only survivor\" after his vessel was \"fitted as a slaver immediately on her arrival at Benguela,\" Angola, took on slaves; the U.S. flag was hoisted, then on arriving in Brazil \"the Portuguese assumed the command and hoisted the flag of Montevideo.\"\n\n39. J. J. C. Westwood, Rio de Janeiro, to Lord Palmerston, 17 February 1848, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers, Volume 55, Number 36.**\n\n40. U.S. Congress. Senate. 31st Congress, 2nd Session. Ex. Doc. No. 6, **In Compliance with a Resolution of the Senate, a Report of the Secretary of State, with Documents Relating to the African Slave Trade.** 17 December 1850. David Tod to Mr. Clayton, 8 January 1850, citing \"Mr. Profitt\" in 9 February 1844.\n\n41. Ibid., Leslie Bethell, **The Abolition of the Brazilian Slave Trade,** 287.\n\n42. Michael Craton, **Sinews of Empire: A Short History of British Slavery,** Garden City: Doubleday, 1974, 290.\n\n43. Report, 19 July 1844, Record Group 45, in Ibid., Roll 17, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n44. Edward Hopkins to Commander of U.S. Naval Forces, Brazil, 26 June 1844, in Ibid., Roll 17, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n45. Letters, 21 June 1844 and 17 June 1844, in Ibid., Roll 17, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n46. Letter to George Bancroft, Secretary of the Navy, 7 November 1845, in Ibid., **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n47. Henry A. Wise to James Buchanan, 6 March 1946, Record Group 84, Volume 018, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.** This kind of thing was not unusual. See Deposition of William Larrenson, 21 January 1847, FO 128\/48, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : This \"native of the Kingdom of Norway . . . shipped on board the Brig 'Senator' of Boston\" in \"the month of December . . . for a voyage to the coast of Africa,\" to the \"River Congo,\" where it \"took in nine hundred and forty three Negroes, of this number a great many died on the passage to Brazil, three hundred and seventy three blacks and three white men, as I was told; the remainder were landed at a little place to the north of Cape Frio. . . . the cause of the great number of deaths was the want of water; the blacks were not allowed a pint of water per day. The first night we went to sea I was told that seventy four died, this was because the ship was too full; they were men, women and children. The deck and the hold were both as full as they could be. We were twenty two days on the passage; we had no colours up on the voyage. I was turned ashore where the slaves landed, without being paid any wages . . . excepting the month's advance which I received at Rio.\"\n\n48. Fleet Surgeon to Lawrence Rousseau, 6 January 1846, in Ibid., Roll 19, **Brazil Squadron Letters.** See Letter, 5 August 1844, in Ibid., Roll 17, **Brazil Squadron Letters:** \"R. D. Taylor . . . suffers from Epilepsy . . . a severe return of the convulsions. . . . recommend his return to the United States.\"\n\n49. Letter, 24 August 1843, in Ibid., Roll 16, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n50. See e.g. Deposition from George C. Kholler, circa 1845, FO 128\/48, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : This \"native of Norway . . . shipped on board the American brig 'Senator'\" at Rio de Janeiro to Africa; \"at Cabinda,\" he said, \"I was so sick with fever that I was insane. . . . we took on board nine hundred and thirty three slaves\u2014seventy four died in the hold the first night from suffocation, the slaves lying on top of each other, the hold was so crowded . . . only six hundred and fifty men were alive when we landed the slaves.\"\n\n51. Letter from U.S. brig in \"harbour of Montevideo,\" 5 November 1848, in Ibid., Roll 20, **Brazil Squadron Letters:** \"A deserter from my vessel was shot dead by a person near the lines of defense of the city of Montevideo and another deserter was wounded and taken prisoner.\"\n\n52. Report, 5 February 1842, in Ibid., Roll 14, **Brazil Squadron Letters.** See also \"Official Document\" from \"Department of Foreign Relations\" of the \"Argentine Confederation\" in \"Buenos Ayres,\" 27 November 1845, in Ibid., Roll 19, **Brazil Squadron Letters.** See also Letter from U.S.S. Brandywine, off the coast of Montevideo, 22 March 1848, in Ibid., Roll 20, **Brazil Squadron Letters** : \"The present state of affairs between the Provinces of the Republic of the Argentine Republic and of Uruguay renders it important that a part of our Naval Force should be ready at this place to watch over, and if necessary, give protection to the persons and interests of the citizens of the United States.\" See also Report, 22 February 1843, in Ibid., Roll 15, **Brazil Squadron Letters.** See Report, G. Pendergrass, U.S. Navy, Montevideo, 30 September 1845, in Ibid., Roll 18, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n53. Report from W. H. Smiley, U.S.S. Enterprise, 1 March 1844, in Ibid., Roll 16, **Brazil Squadron Letters** : \"George Ogelby was shot . . . a short distance from this place,\" i.e.. Patagonia; \"the Negro who shot this man . . . by order of Senor Pedro Crespo.\" See related adjacent letter from Nicholas Garcia, March 1844: \"they were warned off the place by those who were in charge but the sailors considering themselves superior in number, resisted with knives in hand.\" Thus, \"measures to put in rigorous confinement the Negro man.\" See also Report, 28 December 1847, Roll 19, in Ibid., **Brazil Squadron Letters** : \"assassination of two sailors belonging to the U.S. Brig Bainbridge.\"\n\n54. See Letter, 22 February 1843, in Ibid., Roll 14, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n55. G. F. Snow, U.S. Consul, Pernambuco, to Commanding Officer of the \"Bainbridge,\" 9 June 1845, in Ibid., Roll 18, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n56. See also Report, circa 1843, in Ibid., Roll 14, **Brazil Squadron Letters:** There were vessels entering the port near Pernambuco from England, Brazil, Portugal, Sardinia, Hamburg, Spain, France, Holland, Russia, Austria, Denmark, Denmark, Montevideo, etc.; see also Report, circa 1845, in Ibid. Roll 17, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n57. Lawrence Pennigton to Dan Turner, 10 July 1845, in Ibid., Roll 18, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n58. Letter from John Gillman, George Carey, et al. 24 May 1845, in Ibid., Roll 18, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n59. Gorham Parks to Brazil Squadron, Rio de Janeiro, 12 July 1848, in Ibid., Roll 20, **Brazil Squadron Letters.**\n\n60. William Brent, U.S. Legation, Buenos Ayres, to Commodore F. H. Gregory, Brazil Squadron, 11 December 1845, in Ibid., Roll 19, **Brazil Squadron Letters.** See also J. Graham, Consul, B.A., to F. H. Gregory, circa 1845, in Ibid., Roll 19, **Brazil Squadron Letters:** \"the citizens of the United States, merchants and others in Buenos Ayres suffer much inconvenience and detriment in their business from the difficulty of communicating with other places during the blockade.\"\n\n61. Letter from C. Morris, Brazil Squadron, Rio de Janeiro, 13 February 1843, in Ibid., Roll 15, **Brazil Squadron Letters:** \"informed by the British legation that four or five vessels filled with slaves and wearing the flag of the United States, might be expected daily on the coast, coming direct from Africa.\" See also Report, 28 January 1848, in Ibid., Roll 19, **Brazil Squadron Letters** : In Rio de Janeiro a U.S. ship was \"suspected of fitting out for a voyage for the coast of Africa for the purpose of returning with a cargo of slaves. . . . follow said vessel to sea and ascertain her true character\" and, if need be, \"send her either to New York or Boston; Report from Gorham Parks, U.S. Consulate, Rio de Janeiro to Brazil Squadron, 11 July 1848, in Ibid., Roll 20, **Brazil Squadron Letters:** A U.S. \"brig\" just landed in Rio \"with a large number of blacks. . . . this information is communicated to you with the hope that you will at once send a sufficient force to secure said vessel with her Master and crew\"; see also George Stoner, Brazil Squadron to H. H. Locke, U.S. Consul in Montevideo, 22 December 1848, in Ibid., Roll 22, **Brazil Squadron Letters** : \"American vessels having slave cargoes on board & bound to the coast of Africa, to clear from this port,\" i.e., Rio, \"for Montevideo or Buenos Ayres for the purpose it is said of avoiding the heavy duties upon goods destined direct for Africa.\"\n\n62. See **Journal of Sandwith Drinker,** 1840, _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n63. Charles Ward to \"His Highness, the Sultan of Muscat,\" 21 November 1848, Box 1, Folder 1, **Charles Ward Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n64. Charles Ward to U.S. Government, 21 February 1846, Box 1, Folder 1, **Charles Ward Papers.**\n\n65. Thomas Nalle to \"Dear Mother,\" 1 April 1840, MSS1, N1495a51, **Thomas Nalle Papers,** _Virginia Historical Society_ : Nalle \"had been several times in Sierra Leone, Monrovia & Bassa Cove\" where he had \"seen some of the Negroes that were formerly owned by Doctor Hawes\" back home. \"They are dissatisfied, said they had rather be in Virginia in Slavery than here. . . . just as you might imagine a Negro would be if left entirely to himself, lean hungry sterility & squalid wretchedness seems to pervade the whole coast.\"\n\n66. U.S. Congress. Senate. 28th Congress, 2nd Session. **Message from the President of the United States, Information Relative to the Operations of the United States Squadron on the West Coast, The Condition of the American Colonies There, and the Commerce of the United States Therewith,** _Virginia Historical Society_ : Letter from Joel Abbot, 6 November 1844 and Letter from US Ship Saratoga, Port Grande, Island of St. Vincent, 5 September 1843.\n\n67. U.S. Congress. House of Representatives. 2 March 1849. Ex. Doc. 61, **Correspondence Between the Consuls of the United States at Rio de Janeiro, & with the Secretary of State on the Subject of the African Slave Trade**: Gordon Parks, U.S. Consul to \"Mr. Buchanan,\" 20 August 1847: \"One house in particular is deeply involved in this traffic. That house, lately established, consists of an American named Jenkins from New York. . . . nearly the whole of the slave trade [is] in American bottoms, is transacted by this house of Jenkins and company.\" Mariners on the whaler, \"Fame,\" were told that this was to be a typical whaling expedition before traveling to East Africa to pick up slaves\u2014and apparently circumvented possible capture by sailing through the open back door that was the Indian Ocean, then the Pacific; in same document see also Parks to Buchanan, 4 December 1848 on Krafft.\n\n68. Ibid., Joseph Dorsey, **Slave Traffic in the Age of Abolition,** 85.\n\n69. Commander Bossanquet to Commander Jones, 12 June 1844, in **Correspondence with the British Commissioners at Sierra Leone, Havana, Rio de Janeiro, Surinam, Cape of Good Hope, Jamaica, Loanda, and Boa Vista, Relating to the Slave Trade, from January 1 to December 31, 1845 Inclusive,** London: Parliament, 1846, _Western Reserve Historical Society\u2013Cleveland._ See also Report from Foreign Office, 12 July 1849, FO 84\/773, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : \"Slave traders of Brazil had determined to abandon the system of employing Brazilian vessels without flag or papers and that they intended to trust their speculation on future to foreign bottoms and to employ vessels under the United States flag,\" particularly near Angola: \"there is nothing to obstruct slave traders in this course, as no American vessel of war had been to Loanda or has been heard of to the South of the line since 1847.\"\n\n70. See \"Papers Relating to the Convention Between Great Britain and Brazil on [the] Slave Trade,\" 1845, FO 115\/89, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n71. Letter to Foreign Office, 20 October 1845, FO 115\/89, _Public Records Office._\n\n72. Earl of Aberdeen to Foreign Office, 30 July 1845, FO 115\/89, _Public Records Office_ : Referring to a Spanish slave ship: \"New Orleans had been her principal port of rendezvous on her return from the coast of Africa and that she had cleared from that port on her last voyage and . . . the American collector who last cleared her knew well the nature of the market she was proceeding to when she left New Orleans.\"\n\n73. Letter to Foreign Office, 29 December 1845, FO 115\/89, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : \"supposed introduction of coloured persons from those islands [Bahamas] into Florida, there to be sold as slaves.\"\n\n74. Consul William Kennedy to the Earl of Aberdeen, 18 May 1844, FO 701\/27, _Public Records Office._ See also Report from UK Consul in Galveston, 30 May 1843, FO 701\/27, _Public Records Office_ : There was an estimate of \"five hundred and four slaves\" brought to this Texas town over the previous decade, including those who had been kidnapped: \"there seems to be no recognized party in Texas favourable to the abolition of slavery\"; see also William Kennedy to Earl of Aberdeen, 31 December 1845, FO 701\/27: \"two hundred and forty seven Negro slaves have been landed at this port from New Orleans during this and the immediate preceding month. It is probable that this amount does not include the whole number brought to Galveston in the course of the last two months. A considerable number have, it is said, been introduced by way of [the] Red River. Annexation, it is evident, will add greatly to the slave population of Texas.\"\n\n75. Commander Bossanquet to Commander Jones, 2 July 1845, in Ibid., **Correspondence with the British Commissioners. . . .**\n\n76. Ibid., **Correspondence with the British Commissioners. . . .** In this volume see e.g. Commodore W. Jones report, 5 January 1845; Captain P. C. Dumas to Secretary of the Navy, 15 August 1845; Deposition of Jeremiah McCarthy, 26 December 1842.\n\n77. P. C. Dumas, Rio de Janeiro, to U.S. Consul, 29 July 1844, Box 1, **George William Gordon Papers** : \"I just arrived from Africa in the French Bark . . . as a passenger after having made abandon of my Brig Cyrus of New Orleans. . . . British Commander of the 'Alert' who took my papers away and trampled my flag.\"\n\n78. Ibid., **Correspondence with the British Commissioners. . . .** See e.g. H. R. Foote to Commodore Jones, 24 February 1845: \"The 'Atilla' was formerly an American vessel called the 'Glencliff.' She arrived at Cabinda . . . under American colours. . . . when it was discharged she was sold to the Brazilian slavedealers and conveyed 800 slaves to the Brazils\"; see also J. Oake to Commander Jones, 22 April 1845: \"captured . . . for being engaged in the Slave Trade, as there were actually on board 685 Negroes, shipped at Cabinda . . . and bound for the Brazils . . . under American colours . . . of New Orleans . . . manned by 27 persons, prisoners landed from prizes detained by Her Majesty's cruisers, which system I have reason to believe is pursued to a great extent on this part of the coast\"; see also Earl of Aberdeen to Foreign Office, 2 July 1845, FO 115\/89, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : \"the American schooner brig 'Washington Barge' . . . sailed from Bahia with a general cargo for the coast of Africa on the 1st of December 1844 and that she has returned to that Port on the 20th April last under the Brazilian flag and with the name of 'Fantasima'\" with \"upwards of 600 slaves.\" See also Letter to Foreign Office, 20 October 1845, FO 115\/89, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : \"The United States vessel 'Hazard' . . . had been sold . . . to a slave trader at Whydah and had immediately afterwards sailed from that Port with 370 slaves on board.\" See Reginald Levinge, Commander, to \"Sir,\" 25 May 1847, FO 268\/4, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : Writing from \"Whydah,\" about \"six miles S.E. of Lagos . . . [a] suspicious schooner\" was detected and the officer went to \"board her\"; this was an \"American schooner\" and \"the Master of her was highly indignant at having been brought to\"; the \"British Consul's report from Bahia\" rates her, i.e., the \"Eleanor,\" as a \"notorious slaver. . . . I was obliged to tell him I would fire into him if he did heave to which he then did\" though \"the Master refused to show\" papers initially. In same file see also Peter Godfrey to \"Sir,\" 3 May 1847: \"this vessel's name is mentioned in . . . list of vessels sailing out of Bahia for the purpose of slave traffic on the west coast of Africa\"; the vessel was registered in New York City. See also Report from Foreign Office, 26 June 1849, FO 84\/773, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : \"United States barque . . . shipped a cargo of 800 slaves at Ambriz,\" while another U.S. vessel \"carried off 800 slaves from the same place.\"\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 4\n\n1. Henry A. Wise to George N. Jones, 29 June 1855, Box 1, **Henry Wise Papers,** _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._\n\n2. Ibid., Garry Wills, **'Negro President,'** 204.\n\n3. Ibid., Craig M. Simpson, **A Good Southerner,** 36.\n\n4. Henry A. Wise to William C. Whitecomb, 17 November 1859, **Henry Wise Papers,** _American Antiquarian Society\u2013Worcester, Massachusetts._\n\n5. John Blassingame and John R. McKivigan, eds., **The Frederick Douglass Papers; Series One: Speeches, Debates and Interviews, Volume 3: 1855\u20131863,** New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985, 405.\n\n6. William Lee Miller, **Arguing about Slavery: The Great Battle in the United States Congress,** New York: Knopf, 1996, 478.\n\n7. Ibid., Mary Catherine Karasch, \"The Brazilian Slavers and the Illegal Slave Trade, 1836\u20131851,\" 27.\n\n8. Don E. Fehrenbacher, **The Slaveholding Republic: An Account of the United States Government's Relations to Slavery,** New York: Oxford University Press, 2001, 177.\n\n9. Letter to Henry Wise, 17 July 1839, Box 1, Folder 1, **Henry Wise Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n10. See **James Buchanan, His Doctrines and Policy as Exhibited by Himself and Friends,** circa 1856, including a \"Virginia View of Mr. Buchanan\" by Governor Henry Wise, 13 June 1856, _American Antiquarian Society\u2013Worcester, Massachusetts._\n\n11. James P. Hambleton, M.D., **A Biographical Sketch of Henry A. Wise, with a History of the Political Campaign in Virginia in 1855,** Richmond: J.W. Randolph, 1856, xii.\n\n12. Steven Deyle, **Carry Me Back: The Domestic Slave Trade in American Life,** New York: Oxford University Press, 2005, passim.\n\n13. Ibid., Craig Simpson, 61. See also Barton H. Wise, **The Life of Henry A. Wise of Virginia, 1806\u20131876,** London: Macmillan, 1899, 109: According to Wise's grandson, Henry Wise was an \"accomplished linguist\" who apparently spoke Portuguese. See also Adele Toussaint-Samson, **A Parisian in Brazil: The Travel Account of a Frenchwoman in Nineteenth-Century Rio de Janeiro,** Wilmington: Scholarly Resources, 2001, 85: \"The Emperor of Brazil speaks seven languages, Portuguese, Latin, Spanish, Italian, French, English, German and . . . Hebrew.\"\n\n14. Letter to Henry Wise, 20 January 1838, Box 1, Folder 1, **Henry Wise Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n15. Ibid., James P. Hambleton, M.D., xxxiv.\n\n16. Ibid., Bruno Gujer, \"Free Trade and Slavery,\" 208, 212. See also Ibid., Craig Simpson, 61.\n\n17. Report from Henry Wise, 11 October 1844, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 20,** 71.\n\n18. Report from Henry Wise, 11 October 1844, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 20,** 77. See also Henry Wise to \"Dear Bob,\" 15 March 1846, **Confederate Military Leaders Collection,** _Museum of the Confederacy\u2013Richmond, Virginia_ : \"when I first arrived here I found the U. States seal in the hands of one of Fonseca's agents, a man named [Souto] at Victoria as Consular agent of the U. States. He actually caused the slave deck to be fitted to the Monte Video at that place, for which Capt. Pendleton was lately convicted at [Baltimore]. I caused his exchequer to be immediately revoked.\"\n\n19. Report from George Gordon, 3 December 1844, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 20,** 453.\n\n20. Henry Wise to John C. Calhoun, 12 January 1845, Record Group 84, Volume 017, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.**\n\n21. Henry Wise to \"Mr. Calhoun,\" 12 January 1845, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. No. 61, **Correspondence Between the Consuls of the United States at Rio de Janeiro.**\n\n22. Henry Wise to John C. Calhoun, 11 October 1844, **Henry Wise Papers,** _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._\n\n23. Report, 25 May 1842, Record Group 84, Volume 017, **Records of Foreign Service Posts, Brazil.**\n\n24. Henry Wise to John C. Calhoun, 18 February 1845, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 61.\n\n25. Memo from Henry Wise, 30 January 1845, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 61.\n\n26. Memo, 24 January 1845, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 61.\n\n27. Henry Wise to James Buchanan, 27 July 1847, **Henry Wise Papers,** _Virginia Historical Society_ - _Richmond._\n\n28. Henry Wise to James Buchanan, 12 April 1847, **Henry Wise Papers.**\n\n29. **New York Times,** 28 April 1884.\n\n30. Henry Wise to \"Dear Bob,\" 15 March 1846, **Confederate Military Leaders Collection.**\n\n31. See U.S. Congress. Senate. 30th Congress, 1st Session. Ex. Doc. No. 28, **Message from the President of the United States.** Letter to Editor of the 'Evening Mail,' 3 March 1848: This \"'British Merchant'\" asked, \"and who are they whose calumnies against our merchants and manufacturers are thus re-echoed in the House of Commons? Who is Mr. Wise. . . . Mr. Wise is, I believe, one of the most reckless and unscrupulous advocates of slavery even in the United States, and, like Mr. Tyler, himself a large slaveholder. He is known to have publicly declared that he would uphold slavery with the last drop of his blood.\"\n\n32. See American Party, State Executive Committee, **The Record of George Wm. Gordon. The Slave Trade at Rio de Janeiro, Seizure of Slave Vessels, Conviction of Slave Dealers, Personal Liberation of Slaves & Practice Against Theory. Lovers of Freedom, Read! Read! And Vote for the Best Man,** Boston: The American Headquarters, 1856, _New York Public Library_ : Gordon, born in Exeter, New Hampshire, was of Scottish origins. He was the \"Know-Nothing\" candidate for Governor of Massachusetts in 1856. See also F. R. Anspach, **The Sons of the Sires; A History of the Rise, Progress and Destiny of the American Party and its Probable Influence on the Next Presidential Election to which is Added a Review of the Letter of the Hon. Henry A. Wise Against the Know-Nothings. By An American,** Philadelphia: Lippincott, 1855: Wise railed against those who sought to limit the immigration of Irish Catholics to the U.S.\n\n33. Report from Henry Wise in Rio de Janeiro, 14 December 1844, in U.S. Department of State. **Message from the President of the United States, Transmitting Copies of Despatches from the American Minister at the Court of Brazil, Relative to the Slave Trade.** 28th Congress, 2nd Session. House Documents, Serial No. 148, Doc. 148, 20 February 1845.\n\n34. Henry Wise to James Buchanan, 1 May 1845, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. No. 61, **Correspondence Between the Consuls of the United States at Rio de Janeiro. . . .**\n\n35. Ibid., House Documents, Serial No. 148, Doc. 148, Henry Wise to \"Maxwell, Wright,\" 9 December 1844.\n\n36. **Daily Union** [Washington, D.C.], 18 September 1845, Washington, Oficios, 1845\u20131847, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty\u2013Rio de Janeiro_ : \"I observe the United States papers are filled with statements and remarks upon the proceedings of Mr. Wise at this place,\" i.e., Rio, \"in relations to vessels and persons engaged in the trade to the coast of Africa.\"\n\n37. See Letter from U.S. Department of State, 13 March 1846, Washington Oficios, 1845\u20131847: \"acknowledging . . . protest of the Brazilian government against the Act of the British Parliament . . . which declares Brazilian vessels engaged in the slave trade liable to be tried before the High Court of Vice Admiralty in the dominions of Her Brittanic Majesty.\" In same file see bill from November 1846 seeking to limit the slave trade by requiring that vessels e.g. should carry \"at least sixty gallons of water\" and no more than \"two [passengers] to every five tons of such vessel.\"\n\n38. Frederick Jones to Gaspar Jose Lisboa, 6 November 1846, Washington Oficios, 1845\u20131847.\n\n39. Letter from Mary E. (Jones) Carr, 1844, **James T. Jones Collection,** _Huntington Library\u2013San Marino, California._\n\n40. Report, 13 July 1847, Washington Oficios, 1845\u20131847.\n\n41. **Salem Register,** 16 August 1847, Washington Oficios, 1845\u20131847.\n\n42. Clipping, circa 1848, Washington Oficios, 1848\u20131851.\n\n43. Henry Wise to William Wright, 9 March 1845, MS 1467, **William Wright Papers,** _Maryland Historical Society\u2013Baltimore._\n\n44. Henry Wise to William Wright, 22 May 1845, **William Wright Papers.**\n\n45. Ibid., Henry Wise to William Wright, 9 March 1845.\n\n46. Solomon B. Davies to William Wright, 28 May 1845, **William Wright Papers.**\n\n47. Henry Wise to \"Gentlemen,\" 3 July 1845, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers.**\n\n48. John Mason, U.S. State of Department, to William Wright, 4 April 1845, **William Wright Papers** : \"your letter . . . requesting the opinion of this Department as to the legality of sales of vessels of the United States at Rio de Janeiro deliverable on the coast of Africa, as to chartering of such vessels for the purpose of taking cargoes to that coast and requesting to be informed of this government in regard to these subjects . . . the policy of this government, as shown by the laws of the United States, is both to encourage the construction, equipment and navigation of vessels by our citizens and to deter them from participating in the African slave trade.\"\n\n49. Edward Livingston in Washington, D.C. to William Wright in Rio de Janeiro, 1 December 1831, **William Wright Papers.**\n\n50. Circular from Maxwell, Wright in Rio, 17 January 1845, Box 2, **Wright-MayThom Family Papers,** _Maryland Historical Society\u2013Baltimore._\n\n51. Letter from William Wright, circa 1835, Box 2, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers.**\n\n52. Letter from Rio by William Wright, 18 January 1832, Box 2, **Wright-MayThom Family Papers.**\n\n53. Edward Livingston to William Wright, 3 November 1831, Box 2, **WrightMay-Thom Family Papers.**\n\n54. Robert Wright in Rio de Janeiro to William Wright, 23 November 1841, **Wright-May-Thom Family Papers.** See also Ibid., Eric Anderson, \"Yankee Blackbirds,\" 311\u2013312.\n\n55. J. S. Rebello to Joshua Cohen, 5 February 1841, 2432, **Maryland Manuscripts,** _University of Maryland\u2013College Park._\n\n56. Evelyn M. Cherpak, ed., **A Diplomat's Lady in Brazil: Selections from the Diary of Mary Robinson Hunter, 1834\u20131848,** Newport: Newport Historical Society, 2001, 16.\n\n57. See Ibid., Evelyn M. Cherpak, ed., 17, 207, 260\u2013261, 276, 41, 42, 229, 269, 277, 400, 355. See also John Morgan, U.K. Consul in Rio Grande do Sul to Lord Palmerston, 15 February 1848, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 55, Number 36.** See also Lord Howden to Lord Palmerston, 20 March 1848, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 55, Number 36.** See also **Extracts from the Evidence Taken Before Committees of the Two Houses of Parliament Relative to the Slave Trade,** London: Ridgway, 1851, 75, _National Library of South Africa\u2013Cape Town._\n\n58. Lord Howden to Lord Palmerston, 31 December 1847, Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64.**\n\n59. Ivor Debenham Spencer, **The Victor and the Spoils: A Life of William L. Marcy,** Providence: Brown University Press, 1959, 258.\n\n60. **Freedom's Journal,** 10 October 1828.\n\n61. John C. Calhoun to James Buchanan, 24 March 1845, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 21,** 441.\n\n62. John C. Calhoun to Thomas G. Clemson. 23 June 1845, in Ibid., Clyde Wilson and W. Edwin Hemphill, eds., **Volume 21,** 597.\n\n63. David S. Heidler, **Pulling the Temple Down: The Fire-Eaters and the Destruction of the Union,** Mechanicsburg: Stackpole, 1994, 122, 123.\n\n64. See Jefferson Davis, \"Remarks on the Slave Trade,\" 22 January 1851, in Lynda Lasswell Crist, et al., eds., **The Papers of Jefferson Davis, Volume 4, 1849\u20131852,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1983, 154\u2013155.\n\n65. **North Star,** 21 August 1848.\n\n66. **National Era,** 4 November 1847.\n\n67. Milo Milton Quaife, ed., **The Diary of James K. Polk During his Presidency, 1845 to 1849, Volume 2,** New York: Kraus, 1970, 351.\n\n68. Frederick Moore Binder, **James Buchanan and the American Empire,** Selinsgrove: Susquehanna University Press, 1994, 146\u2013147. See also G. B. Wright, \"Hon. David Tod: Biographical and Personal Recollections,\" **Ohio Archaeological and Historical Publications,** 8 (1900): 107\u2013131, 111. Tod was appointed to succeed Wise in Brazil after the latter was \"recalled at the request of Brazil in consequence of his arbitrary course which threatened to involve our country in war with that Empire.\"\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 5\n\n1. Journal of Charlotte Gardner, circa 1852, Box 1, **William Bunker Gardner Papers,** _Huntington Library\u2013San Marino, California._\n\n2. Captain William Harwar Parker, **Recollections of a Naval Officer, 1841\u20131865,** New York: Charles Scribner's, 1885, 25.\n\n3. George Shepard, \"Addresses of Rev. Professor Shepard, and Rev. S. L. Caldwell to the California Pilgrims from Bangor, Maine,\" Bangor: Smith & Sayward, 1849, _Huntington Library._\n\n4. Raymond A. Rydell, \"The Cape Horn Route to California, 1849,\" **Pacific Historical Review,** 17 (Number 1, February 1948): 149\u2013163, 162, 150, 149. See also \"Cape Horn and Cooperative Mining in '49,\" **Century Magazine,** 42 (Number 1, May 1891): 579\u2013594, 593: Statistics kept by Mr. Edward King, \"harbor master of San Francisco during that period, the Custom House records having been destroyed by the great fire of May 4, 1851\" indicate that \"'passenger arrivals by sea in San Francisco in 1849'\" via Cape Horn was 15,597 and via Panama 6489. Interestingly, from Pacific ports the figure was 9217. See also Oscar Lewis, \"South American Ports of Call,\" **Pacific Historical Review,** 18 (Number 1, February 1949): 57\u201366, 60: \"in the first three months of 1849, eighty-six California bound ships put into the harbor\" at Rio; \"sometimes a dozen arrived in a single day bearing as many as a thousand passengers.\" See also William McCollum, **California as I Saw It,** Los Gatos, California: Talisman, 1960: There were also Brazilian 49ers arriving in California; 23 are listed here.\n\n5. Letter from A. H. Cazzam, circa 1849, Box 1, **Peter Remsen Papers,** _State Historical Society of Wisconsin\u2013Madison._\n\n6. John B. Goodman III, **The Gold Rush: Voyage of the Ship Loo Choo Around the Horn in 1849,** Mount Pleasant, Michigan: The Cumming Press, 1977, xix.\n\n7. George G. Webster, **The Journal of a Trip Around the Horn,** Ashland: Lewis Osborne, 1970, 32.\n\n8. See George Gardner, **Travels in the Interior of Brazil, Principally Through the Northern Provinces and the Gold and Diamond Districts during the Years 1836\u20131841,** London: Reeve, Benham and Reeve, 1849.\n\n9. Diary of Joshua Vincent, Acc. 2656, 20 November 1846, _San Diego Historical Society._\n\n10. John Charles Duchow, **The Duchow Journal: A Voyage from Boston to California 1852,** no city: Mallette Dean, 1959, no page no.\n\n11. Letter to spouse, 4 March 1852, Box 1, Folder 6, **Chaplin Conway Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n12. \"From Boston to San Francisco Around Cape Horn,\" 1864, MSSHM 60313, _Huntington Library._\n\n13. Hinton Helper, **The Land of God: Reality versus Fiction,** Baltimore: Helper, 1855, 278\u2013279. See also Judson A. Grenier, \"Colonel Jack Watson: Copperhead Assemblyman in Civil War California,\" **The Californians,** 12 (Number 5, year unclear): 14\u201335, 18, _California State Library\u2013Sacramento_ : There was talk of a \"'coup d'etat'\" in the state to take Southern California out of the state and union on pro-slavery grounds.\n\n14. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 26 August 1850.\n\n15. Gerald Stanley, \"The Politics of the Antebellum West: The Impact of the Slavery and Race Issues in California,\" **Journal of the West,** 16 (Number 4, October 1977): 19\u201326.\n\n16. Donald Jackson, **Gold Dust,** New York: Knopf, 1980, 101.\n\n17. Oscar Lewis, **Sea Routes to the Gold Fields: The Migration by Water to California in 1849\u20131852,** New York: Knopf, 1949, 135.\n\n18. John H. Beeckman to \"My Dearest Wife,\"27 February 1849, **John H. Beeckman Collection,** _California State Library\u2013Sacramento._\n\n19. Ruth S. Nash, **High Seas to High Stakes or Around Cape Horn to the Gold Rush,** Bloomington, Indiana: First Books, 2000, 49.\n\n20. C. S. Stewart, **Brazil and La Plata: The Personal Record of a Cruise,** New York: G. P. Putnam, 1856, 150.\n\n21. Journal of Julius Howard Pratt, no date, Folder qq, _Connecticut Historical Society\u2013Hartford._\n\n22. Ibid., John B. Goodman III, **The Gold Rush,** xvi.\n\n23. Journal of C. H. Keefe, 1849, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._ See also Ibid., Mary C. Karasch, **Slave Life in Rio de Janeiro, 1808\u20131850,** 332. See also Benjamin Brewster to \"My Dear Mother,\" 4 March 1849, _G. W. Blunt White Library\u2013Mystic, Connecticut._\n\n24. Salvador A. Ramirez, **From New York to San Francisco via Cape Horn in 1849: The Gold Rush Voyage of the Ship 'Pacific,' an Eyewitness Account,** Carlsbad, California: The Tentacled Press, 1985, 57, 68. See also John Chauncey Mason, \"Memories of Long Ago,\" no date, Folder V, _Connecticut Historical Society_ : \"there were nineteen ships in the harbor\" when he arrived in 1849, \"all going to California; we had to wait about ten days before our turn came to have our water casks filled.\" See also Christian Miller to \"Dear Father . . . ,\" 27 April 1849, 74\/194C, **Christian Miller Letters,** _University of California\u2013Berkeley_ : \"there are not less than 1500 Americans bound to California in the city of Rio Janeiro. Before our arrival there were about 60 vessels put in this port for water. . . . it will take about four months before we arrive in California.\"\n\n25. Ibid., Journal of Julius Howard Pratt.\n\n26. Charles Mansfield, **Paraguay, Brazil and the Plate: Letters Written in 1852\u20131853,** Cambridge: Macmillan, 1856, 30.\n\n27. Journal of William Carshaw, 1846\u20131847, _Huntington Library._\n\n28. Letter to George Stoner, 8 October 1849, in Ibid., Roll 23, **Brazil Squadron Letters** : \"the population . . . including blacks\u2014the town contains from six to eight thousand inhabitants. . . . the climate is mild and . . . salubrious.\" See also Letter from Andrew Boyd Cummings, 8 November 1847, **Andrew Boyd Cummings Papers,** _U.S. Naval Academy\u2013Annapolis._\n\n29. Brian Roberts, \"'The Greatest and Most Perverted Paradise,'\" in Kenneth N. Owens, ed., **Riches for All: The California Gold Rush and the World,** Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2002, 71\u201389, 74.\n\n30. Letter from Mary Smith, 11 October 1853, **Letters of Mary Smith,** _Yale University._\n\n31. John H. Beeckman to \"My Dearest Wife,\"27 February 1849, **John H. Beeckman Collection.**\n\n32. John H. Beeckman to Spouse, 8 March 1849, **John H. Beeckman Collection.**\n\n33. A. H. Cazzam to \"Dear Sir,\" 11 November 1849, Box 1, **Peter Remsen Papers,** _State Historical Society of Wisconsin\u2013Madison._\n\n34. See Diary of Horatio Chapman, circa 1849, Box 1, Folder 11 (ell\/ell), **California Gold Rush Collection,** _Connecticut Historical Society\u2013Hartford._\n\n35. \"Narrative of Henry Beckett, taken from the 'Tacoma Sunday Ledger,'\" 26 February 1893, _Washington State Historical Society\u2013Tacoma._ See also \"Journal of a Voyage Taken by George Stevens Aboard the Sailing Vessel 'North American' . . . Sailing Around Cape Horn from New York to San Francisco, April 1 to August 31, 1852,\" _California Historical Society\u2013San Francisco_ : \"the city [Rio] is strictly guarded by coloured soldiers. . . . a guard also extends for some miles out of the city, probably to prevent the escape of slaves.\"\n\n36. Captain Joseph Hamilton to Captain Richard H. Tucker, Jr., 8 March 1849, **Tucker Family Shipping Papers,** _Bowdoin College\u2013Maine._\n\n37. Edward M. Brown, **An Ocean Voyage: Around Cape Horn, 1849\u20131850,** No city, 1900, _Huntington Library._\n\n38. Roger Conant, **Mercer's Belles: The Journal of a Reporter,** edited by Lenna A. Deutsch, Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1960, 69.\n\n39. Anonymous Diary, 1849, c-F216, **Honeyman Collection,** _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n40. W. S. W. Ruschenberger, **Notes and Commentaries During a Voyage to Brazil and China in the Year 1848,** Richmond: McFarlane & Ferguson, 1854, 79.\n\n41. Ibid., George Coggeshall, **Thirty Six Voyages to Various Parts of the World, Made Between the Years 1799 and 1841,** 550. See also, Ibid., Salvador A. Ramirez, 59. See also Letter of Condy Raguet, 8 November 1824, **Condy Raguet Official Letters,** _Historical Society of Pennsylvania._\n\n42. Journal of Thomas Williams, 1849, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n43. \"Diary of Ship 'Robert Bourne,'\" 1849, _Huntington Library._\n\n44. Ibid., W. S. W. Ruschenberger, 120.\n\n45. Anonymous Journal, 1849, 77\/160c, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n46. Diary of Ebenezer Sheppard, 1849, _California Historical Society\u2013San Francisco._\n\n47. Thomas Ewbank, **Life in Brazil; or a Journal of a Visit to The Land of the Cocoa and Palm,** New York: Harper & Brothers, 1856, 188.\n\n48. Milton Stevens to \"My Dear Mother,\"4 May 1849, Box 1, **Milton Stevens Papers,** _Huntington Library, San Marino, California._\n\n49. Ibid., \"Diary of Ship 'Robert Bourne.'\"\n\n50. C. S. Stewart, **Brazil and La Plata: The Personal Record of a Cruise,** New York: G. P. Putnam, 1856, 72.\n\n51. Ibid., Brian Roberts, 74.\n\n52. James Orton, **The Andes and the Amazon or Across the Continent of South America,** New York: Harper & Bros., 1870, 323.\n\n53. Journal of James Lamoureaux Pangburn, 1849, _J. Porter Shaw Maritime Library\u2013San Francisco._\n\n54. Letters of Mary Smith, 25 September 1853, _Yale University._\n\n55. John Pomfret, **California Gold Rush Voyages, 1848\u20131849: Three Original Narratives,** San Marino: Huntington Library, 1954, 108, 109.\n\n56. Samuel C. Upham, **Notes of a Voyage to California via Cape Horn Together with Scenes in El Dorado in the Years 1849\u20131850,** Philadelphia: Upham, 1878, 68.\n\n57. L. M. Schaeffer, **Sketches of Travels in South America, Mexico and California,** New York: James Egbert, 1860, 14.\n\n58. Clipping, circa 1846, **Henry Wise Papers,** _American Antiquarian Society._ See also Gaspar Jose de Lisboa to President James Buchanan, 21 August 1847, **Mason Family Papers,** _Virginia Historical Society._\n\n59. Errol Wayne Stevens, **Incidents of a Voyage to California, 1849: A Diary of Travel Aboard the Bark 'Hersilia' and in Sacramento,** Los Angeles: Western History Association, 1987, 22. See also Journal of C. H. Keefe, May 1849, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n60. Ibid., Edward M. Brown, **An Ocean Voyage,** 58.\n\n61. Journal of John R. McFalan, 1850, _Huntington Library._\n\n62. Ibid., W. S. W. Ruschenberger, 62.\n\n63. Joseph Lamson, **Round Cape Horne: Voyages of the Passenger Ship James W. Paige from Maine to California in the Year 1852,** Bangor: O. F. and W. H. Knowles, 1878, 26.\n\n64. John Esaias Warren, **Para; Or Scenes and Adventures on the Banks of the Amazon,** New York: G. P. Putnam, 1851, 62.\n\n65. Diary of Richard Morton, 1857\u20131858, _Virginia Historical Society._\n\n66. Journal of J. L. Ackerman, 23 September 1849\u20131 February 1854, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n67. Journal of Samuel Adams, 1849, **Samuel Adams Papers,** _California Historical Society\u2013Sacramento._\n\n68. Ibid., Milton Stevens to \"My Dear Mother.\"\n\n69. Ibid., Samuel C. Upham, 88.\n\n70. Diary of James Woods, 1849, _Huntington Library._\n\n71. James Delgado, ed., **The Log of Apollo: Joseph Perkins Beach's Journal of the Voyage of the Ship 'Apollo' from New York to San Francisco, 1849,** San Francisco: Book Club of California, 1986, 47.\n\n72. Ibid., Diary of James Woods.\n\n73. Ibid., Salvador Ramirez, 61.\n\n74. Anonymous Journal, 1849, 77\/160c, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n75. James T. Jones to Mary E. (Jones) Carr, 1844, **James T. Jones Collection,** _Huntington Library._ Others disagreed.\n\n76. See \"Travel Sketches of C. B. Richard,\" 1846\u20131849, _New York Historical Society_ : \"the slave population is five-fold that of the whites\" and continually replenished as \"slave ships fitted out in Brazilian ports bound for the African coast\" were ever present. See also Lonnie J. White and William R. Gillespie, **By Sea to San Francisco, 1849\u20131850** : **The Journal of Dr. James Morison,** Memphis: Memphis State University Press, 1977, 12: \"the conditions of this unfortunate class [slaves] is very little above that of the beast of burden. They are not permitted to wear shoes. By this they are distinguished from the free Negro. . . . I saw several children running about entirely naked. The men frequently are naked above the loins and in some instances had no covering except the loins. . . . they are generally cheerful and happy.\"\n\n77. Ibid., Salvador A. Ramirez, 63.\n\n78. Anonymous Journal, 1849, 77\/160c, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n79. Ibid., Journal of C. H. Keefe.\n\n80. Albert Lyman, **Journal of a Voyage to California and Life in the Gold Diggings and Also a Voyage from California to the Sandwich Islands,** Hartford: Dexter & Bro., 1852, 42.\n\n81. Anonymous Journal, 1849, c-F 216, **Honeyman Collection,** _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n82. M. J. Randall, **The Adventures of a Captain's Wife Going through the Straits of Magellan to California in 1850,** New York and San Francisco: A. Roman and Co., 1877, 10.\n\n83. Ibid., Diary of Richard Morton.\n\n84. Journal of Thomas Williams, March-September 1849, _University of California\u2013Berkeley_ : \"The manner the poor slaves eat their food, which is rice and fish, when I saw them they had . . . no knife, fork or spoon, they scoop it up in their hands and [throw] it in their mouths. . . . their jaws don't open and shut like we white people, they work their jaws, like an ox chewing his cud, or the horse his hay or grain.\"\n\n85. Anonymous Journal, 1849, 77\/160c, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._ See also Journal of Ralph Cross Pendleton, March-July 1852, _Huntington Library._\n\n86. Ibid., Thomas Ewbank, 440. See also Ibid., Thomas Ewbank, 436: \"Common punishments\" were a \"Negro in a mask, and a Negro wearing the usual pronged collar, with a shackle around one ankle and secured to a chain suspended from his waist.\"\n\n87. John H. Beeckman to Spouse, 17 March 1849, **John H. Beeckman Collection.**\n\n88. Ibid., J. Lamson, **Round Cape Horn,** 43.\n\n89. Ibid., Errol Wayne Stevens, **Incidents of a Voyage to California, 1849,** 24. See also Griffith Meredith, \"Meredith's Journal of a Voyage from New York, 1849, via Cape Horn to San Francisco,\" _California State Library\u2013Sacramento_ : \"We went to Capt. Cathcart's house and had quite a chat with him, he is a native of Massachusetts. . . . he is a very wealthy man. Now he has a fine house\" and was growing \"sugar\" and \"has 25 or 30 slaves to work for him.\" See also Oscar Lewis, \"South America's Ports of Call,\" **Pacific Historical Review,** 18 (Number 1, February 1949): 57\u201366, 58: \"At the height of the California Rush, St. Catherine's was overrun with Yankees.\"\n\n90. See letter to George Stoner, 8 October 1849, in Ibid., Roll 23, **Brazil Squadron Letters** : \"On my recent visit . . . I found the American interest prosperous and well represented in the person of Robert S. Cathcart, Acting U.S. Consul. . . . he has resided in the country upwards of twenty years, is conversant with the language. . . . hence our Government would do well in my judgment to confirm the appointment.\"\n\n91. **Godey's Lady Book,** August 1853.\n\n92. Journal of Daniel S. Hayden, 1849\u20131852, _Huntington Library._\n\n93. \"Log Book Manuscript Journal of 'California Packet,' Boston to San Francisco, March 4, 1850 to August 24, 1850,\" _Huntington Library._\n\n94. Anonymous Journal, 1849, 77\/160c, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n95. Ibid., Ruth S. Nash, 46, 47. See also Ibid., Charles Mansfield, 29: This visiting British scientist found Pernambuco to be a \"dreadfully dirty place; there is not a drain of any sort, and all imaginable filth lies in the streets. . . . two-thirds of the population seems to be naked Negroes, in cotton drawers.\"\n\n96. Ibid., Brian Roberts, 80\u201381, 84.\n\n97. Diary of Samuel Whiting, 1849, _Rhode Island Historical Society\u2013Providence._\n\n98. Ibid., \"Narrative of Henry Beckett.\"\n\n99. Ibid., Journal of Thomas Williams.\n\n100. Ibid., Albert Lyman, 36.\n\n101. Ibid., Thomas Ewbank, 116.\n\n102. Ibid., Diary of Richard Morton.\n\n103. Levi Holden to Charles, 26 December 1848, **Levi Holden Papers,** _Rhode Island Historical Society\u2013Providence._\n\n104. **Godey's Lady Book,** June 1853.\n\n105. Ibid., Diary of Richard Morton.\n\n106. L. J. Hall, **Around the Horn in '49: Journal of the Hartford Union Mining and Trading Company,** Wethersfield, Connecticut: Hall, 1898, [originally published in 1849], 77, _Huntington Library._\n\n107. J. D. B. Stillman, **Seeking the Golden Fleece: A Record of Pioneer Life in California,** San Francisco: A Roman & Co., 1877.\n\n108. Anonymous Journal, 1849, 77\/160c, _University of California\u2013Berkeley._\n\n109. A. H. Cazzam to Peter Remsen, 5 October 1848, Box 1, **Peter Remsen Papers.**\n\n110. Journal of Ralph Cross Pendleton, 1852, _Huntington Library._\n\n111. Ibid., J. Lamson, 43.\n\n112. Ibid., Diary of James Woods.\n\n113. Ibid., C. S. Stewart, 408.\n\n114. Ibid., Diary of Richard Morton.\n\n115. William H. Edwards, **A Voyage up the River Amazon Including a Residence at Para,** London: John Murray, 1847, 52.\n\n116. **North Star,** 5 May 1848. Douglass's forbearance was even more striking since \"African Americans\" venturing south of the U.S. \"traveled under the constant menace of enslavement by slave hunters and bandits. . . . kidnappers made a lucrative business of selling captives to the South American slave market.\" See Shirley Ann Moore, \"'Do You Think I'll Lug Trunks?' African-Americans in Gold Rush California,\" in Ibid., Kenneth N. Owens, ed., **Riches for All,** 161\u2013175, 164.\n\n117. **Frederick Douglass' Paper,** 21 May 1858.\n\n118. **Frederick Douglass' Paper,** 5 January 1860.\n\n119. Ibid., Diary of Richard Morton. See also Rev. Walter Colton, U.S. Navy, **Deck and Port or Incidents of a Cruise in the United States Frigate Congress to California,** New York: A. S. Barnes, 1852, 112\u2013113.\n\n120. Ibid., Samuel C. Upham, 88.\n\n121. John H. Beeckman to Wife, 27 March 1849, **John H. Beeckman Collection.**\n\n122. Ibid., Thomas Ewbank, 267, 195, 439. See also Ibid., Charles Mansfield, 29.\n\n123. Ibid., Samuel C. Upham, 89. See Ibid., Jacob D. B. Stillman, 40.\n\n124. See also **Frederick Douglass' Paper,** 19 February 1852. See also Robert Edgar Conrad, ed., **Children of God's Fire: A Documentary History of Black Slavery in Brazil,** Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983, xvi, xviii: \"After years of concentrated study of Brazilian slavery and abolition, and after reading extensively on slavery in the United States, I have become convinced that the _physical conditions_ endured by slaves in Brazil made life there considerably more precarious and uncomfortable\u2014again the physical sense\u2014than it was for most slaves in the United States\" [emphasis-original], while the higher standard of living in the U.S. trickled down to slaves. On the other hand, \"some blacks and mulattoes in Brazil enjoyed social advantages that were normally denied to their counterparts in the American South or even in [the] free states of the North.\"\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 6\n\n1. See Southern Pamphlet #4704, Annual Report of the Matthew Fontaine Maury Association, 1920, _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._ See also John A. Coke, Henry Miller, and Branch B. Morgan, \"Memorials of Three Great Virginians: Matthew Fontaine Maury, Robert Edward Lee and Thomas Jonathan ('Stonewall') Jackson,\" Richmond: United Daughters of the Confederacy, 1924, _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n2. **All Hands,** April 1998, N.972, Vertical File, Defense Mapping Agency, _U.S. Naval Academy, Annapolis._\n\n3. A. C. W. Bethel, \"The Golden Skein: California's Gold-Rush Transportation Network,\" **California History,** 77 (Number 4, Winter 1998\u20131999): 250\u2013275, 255.\n\n4. Colonel William Couper, **One Hundred Years at VMI, Volume 3,** Richmond: Garrett & Massie, 1939, 158\u2013172.\n\n5. James P. Reddick, Jr., \"Herndon, Maury and the Amazon Basin,\" **United States Naval Institute Proceedings,** 97 (Number 3\/817, March 1971): 56\u201363, 58, 59, 62, 63.\n\n6. Charles Lee Lewis, \"Matthew Fontaine Maury: An International Figure,\" **The Southern Magazine,** 1 (Number 9, January 1935): 9\u201311, 43, 10.\n\n7. See e.g. John W. Wayland, **The Pathfinder of the Seas: The Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury,** Richmond: Garrett & Massie, 1930, 77, 78, 79. See also Frances Leigh Williams, **Matthew Fontaine Maury: Scientist of the Sea,** New Brunswick: Rutgers University Press, 1963; Patricia Jahns, **Matthew Fontaine Maury & John Henry: Scientists of the Civil War,** New York: Hastings House, 1963.\n\n8. **London Telegraph,** 25 February 1873.\n\n9. See \"Inducements to the Colored People of the United States to Emigrate to British Guiana, Compiled from Statements and Documents Furnished by Edward Carbery, Agent of the Immigration Society of British Guiana and Proprietor in that Colony,\" Boston: Kidder and Wright, 1840, 7, _Kansas State Historical Society\u2013Topeka_ : \"Conditions\" in the U.S. \"which render the position of the colored man in the United States so mortifying and uncomfortable are wholly unknown in British Guiana. In this respect all are equal.\" See also James O'Toole, **Passing for White: Race, Religion and the Healy Family, 1820\u20131920,** Amherst: University of Massachusetts Press, 2002, 33: \"Orestes Brownson wrote bluntly in the middle of the Civil War, expressing the fond hope that should slaves win their freedom, they would simply 'drift away' to Central and South America.\"\n\n10. Percy Alvin Martin, \"The Influence of the United States on the Opening of the Amazon to the World's Commerce,\" **Hispanic American Historical Review,** 1 (Number 2, May 1918): 146\u2013162, 146.\n\n11. Monroe Edwards, **The Life and Adventurer of the Accomplished Forger and Swindler,** New York: H. Long & Brother, 1848, 14, 17, 18, 22, 27, 31, 32, 47\u201348, 82.\n\n12. See e.g. Ibid., Robert E. May, **Manifest Destiny's Underworld,** 241.\n\n13. Charles Smith, Consul, to John Forsyth, Secretary of State, 20 July 1836, Record Group 59, Roll 1, T478, **Records of the Department of State, Dispatches from U.S. Consuls in Para, Brazil** : \"the disturbances which this Province has seen for the last year unhappily afflicted are supposed to be at an end.\" \"Five American merchant vessels\" were \"in port at this time,\" along with \"two French and English ships of war.\" But see also The Diary of H. B. Towne, Misc. Vol. 185, _G. W. Blunt Library\u2013Mystic, Connecticut_ : Born in Andover, Massachusetts in 1798, this sailor visited Para in the 1830s and noted, \"there has been more political troubles at this place than any other. . . . some considerable trade is effected by Americans at Para\" though \"seldom do we see one of our government's vessels at Para.\" As for Bahia, he noted that \"of late few American vessels trade there. . . . I believe also the blacks (slaves) exceed the whites 3 or 4 to one.\"\n\n14. Amory Edwards to Capt. I. D. Wilson, 6 January 1847, Box 1, **Peter Remsen Papers,** _State Historical Society of Wisconsin_ \\- _Madison._\n\n15. De Facto Passport of Peter Remsen, circa 1847, Box 1, **Peter Remsen Papers.**\n\n16. Letter to \"Dear Madam,\" 3 December 1847, Box 1, **Peter Remsen Papers.**\n\n17. Undated, circa 1848, Box 1, **Peter Remsen Papers.**\n\n18. G. T. Snow to Commanding Officer, 9 June 1845, Record Group 59, Roll 2, T344, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco, Brazil.**\n\n19. Walter Stapp to Lewis Cass, 30 October 1858, Record Group 59, Roll 2, T344, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco, Brazil.**\n\n20. Letter to Daniel Webster, 14 May 1851, Record Group 59, Roll 1, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n21. John Julius Pringle to William Pringle, 14 September 1841, 11\u2013325\u20132, **Mitchell-Pringle Collection,** _South Carolina Historical Society\u2013Charleston._ See also Steven C. Topik, **Trade and Gunboats: The United States and Brazil in the Age of Empire,** Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1996, 53, 54.\n\n22. Chart, \"American Vessels Arriving at & Departing from Bahia, Brazil from the 1st of January to the 30th June 1851 inclusive,\" Record Group 59, Roll 1, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n23. Consular Report, 31 December 1857, Record Group 59, Roll 2, T478, **Records of the Department of State, Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para, Brazil,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n24. Consular Report, 30 November 1859, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para.**\n\n25. Ibid., Consular Report, 30 November 1859.\n\n26. Henry Dewey to William Marcy, 8 November 1855, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para.**\n\n27. Mark Williams to Henry Dewey, 8 September 1855, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from the U.S. Consuls in Para.**\n\n28. Henry Dewey to William Marcy, 12 July 1855, Record Group 59, Roll 1, T478, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para, Brazil.**\n\n29. Ana Maury to \"My Dear Cousin,\"2 December 1853, Box 1, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Duke University._\n\n30. Sam Houston to S. L. Southard, 20 February 1825, **Miscellaneous Southard,** _New York Historical Society._\n\n31. General Dabney Herndon Maury, **Recollections of a Virginian in the Mexican, Indian and Civil Wars,** New York: Scribner's, 1894, 16.\n\n32. Matthew Maury to \"My Dear Sir,\" 18 June 1829, Box 1, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Duke University._\n\n33. See **Smithsonian,** 14 (Number 2, March 1984): 170\u2013186, Vertical File, Defense Mapping Agency, _U.S. Naval Academy\u2013Annapolis._\n\n34. Ibid., A. C. W. Bethel, \"The Golden Skein,\" 255.\n\n35. Matthew Maury to William Lewis Herndon, 2 April 1850, in J. G. de Roulhac Hamilton, ed., **The Papers of William Alexander Graham, Volume 3, 1845\u20131850,** Raleigh: State Department of Archives and History, 1960, 433\u2013434.\n\n36. Henry Lee Norris to Daniel Webster, 31 December 1850, Record Group 59, Roll 1, T478, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para, Brazil.**\n\n37. William Lewis Herndon, \"Extracts from My Journal, 1828\u20131850,\" **William Lewis Herndon Papers,** _New York Historical Society._\n\n38. William Lewis Herndon, **Exploration of the Valley of the Amazon, 1851\u20131852,** New York: Grove Press, 2000, 248, 258, 263, 274\u2013275, 324, 342, 56, xiv.\n\n39. John Schroeder, **Shaping a Maritime Empire: The Commercial and Diplomatic Role of the American Navy, 1829\u20131861,** Westport: Greenwood Press, 1985, 109, 106\u2013107.\n\n40. John Crampton to London, 8 August 1853, in James J. Barnes and Patience P. Barnes, eds., **Private and Confidential: Letters from British Ministers in Washington to the Foreign Secretaries in London, 1844\u20131867,** Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania: Susquehanna University Press, 1993, 79.\n\n41. William K. Scarborough, ed., **The Diary of Edmund Ruffin, Volume 1** : **Toward Independence, October 1856\u2013April 1857,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1972, 386.\n\n42. **New York Times,** 24 August 1854.\n\n43. **New York Times,** 16 May 1854.\n\n44. Matthew Maury to William Graham, 14 August 1850, Washington Oficios, 1848\u20131851, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty\u2013Rio de Janeiro._\n\n45. \"Extract from the Rio [de] Janeiro Correspondence of the 'Observator,'\" no date, Box 17, Folder 306, **William Graham Papers,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n46. Letter to William Graham, 13 April 1852, Box 8, Folder 125, **William Graham Papers.**\n\n47. John F. Cady, **Foreign Intervention in the Rio de la Plata, 1835\u20131850,** Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1929, 160.\n\n48. Letter from J. G. Chapman, 22 June 1852, Box 8, Folder 129, **William Graham Papers.**\n\n49. Millard Fillmore to William Graham, 30 June 1852, Box 8, Folder 130, **William Graham Papers.**\n\n50. Millard Fillmore to William Graham, 22 June 1853, Box 8, Folder 143, **William Graham Papers.**\n\n51. Matthew Maury to William Graham, 8 October 1852, Box 8, Folder 137, **William Graham Papers.**\n\n52. Matthew Fontaine Maury, \"Direct Foreign Trade of the South,\" **De Bow's Review,** 12 (Number 2, February 1852): 126\u2013148, 140, 142, 143, 144, 145, 146, 147, 148.\n\n53. Matthew Maury, \"Shall the Valleys of the Amazon and the Mississippi Reciprocate Trade,\" **De Bow's Review,** 14 (Number 2, February 1853): 136\u2013145, 145.\n\n54. Matthew Maury, \"The Amazon and the Atlantic Slopes of South America,\" Washington: Franck Taylor, 1853, F2546, _Virginia Historical Society._\n\n55. U.S. Congress. House. 33rd Congress, 1st Session. Miscellaneous No. 22, \"Free Navigation of the Amazon River. Memorial of Lieutenant Maury, in behalf of the Memphis Convention in Favor of the Free Navigation of the Amazon River.\" 3 March 1854, _Virginia Historical Society._\n\n56. Matthew Maury to William Graham, 7 October 1850, Box 5, Folder 76, **William Graham Papers.**\n\n57. Matthew Maury to Mrs. Blackford, 24 December 1851, in Jacqueline Ambler Caskie, ed., **Life and Letters of Matthew Fontaine Maury,** Richmond: Richmond Press, 1928, 119, 121.\n\n58. Nannie Corbin, **A Life of Matthew Fontaine Maury,** London: Low, Marston, Searle and Rivington, 1888, 132.\n\n59. Letter from Matthew Maury, 8 October 1852, in Ibid., J. G. de Roulhac Hamilton, ed., **Volume 4,** 1961, 418.\n\n60. See Ibid., James P. Reddick, 63.\n\n61. **Provincial Freeman,** 3 June 1854.\n\n62. **National Era,** 31 August 1854.\n\n63. **National Era,** 29 June 1854.\n\n64. **Provincial Freeman,** 27 May 1854.\n\n65. **Provincial Freeman,** 29 April 1854.\n\n66. **Frederick Douglass' Paper,** 31 March 1854.\n\n67. **National Era,** 23 June 1853.\n\n68. Matthew Maury to William Figaniere, 8 September 1856, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence Received from Various U.S. Authorities and Establishments, 1837\u20131888, Torre, 4 Piso, Estante 1, 17, A38, M 19, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._ There are many letters in this file between the two.\n\n69. J. A. Dahlgren to William Figaniere, 24 March 1857, in Ibid., A38, M19, Lisbon.\n\n70. J. A. Dahlgren to William Figaniere, 14 April 1857, in Ibid., A38, M19, Lisbon.\n\n71. Matthew Maury to William Figaniere, in Ibid., A38, M19, Lisbon.\n\n72. U.S. Patent Office to William Figaniere, in Ibid., A38, M19, Lisbon.\n\n73. Letter from Matthew Maury, 14 July 1859, in Ibid., A38, M19, Lisbon: Thanks for your \"Royal Letter Patent from His Majesty-Your King conferring upon me the 'Degree of Officer of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Power of Swords, of Valor, Loyalty and Merit.'\"\n\n74. See e.g. Matthew Maury to the \"Grand Duke Constatine, Lord High Admiral of the Russian Navy,\" 22 October 1855, Box 5, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress\u2013Washington, D.C._ : \"I have received by the hands of the Russian Minister, the autograph letter which Your Imperial Highness . . . had the kindness to write me. . . . I am proud of it and hold in high esteem the commendation which the Great Admiral of the Russian Navy bestows upon my humble labors\"; in the same file see also the following: \"Tomard\" to Maury, 18 November 1855: Lavish praise heaped on Maury along with the query re: \"keeping perfectly clear for navigation the entrance of the harbor\" and the \"Suez Canal\"; Maury to Tomard, 2 January 1856: Re: Suez Canal, \"it is a work worthy of the age\"; he also speaks of building a \"double track railroad about 420 miles long . . . from Caspian Sea to the Persian Gulf\"; \"Minister Resident of the Republic of Bremen\" to Maury, 28 December 1855: \"it affords me great pleasure to hand you in the name of my Government the accompanying Gold Medal\"; \"Imperial Academy of Science of Russia,\" to Maury, 29 December 1855: \"its high esteem for your scientific labors in the domain of astronomy, has elected you its corresponding member\"; In Box 6 of the same collection see also William Marcy, U.S. Department of State, to Maury, no date, \"transmitting to you . . . a Gold Medal which His Majesty the King of the Netherlands has been pleased to confer upon you in consideration of your services to science\"; Letter from Legation of Denmark in Philadelphia, 11 November 1856 to Maury: another commendation.\n\n75. Maximillian to Matthew Maury, 2 December 1860, Box 10, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._ See also \"Ferdinand Maximilian, Arch Duke of Austria,\" to Matthew Maury, 10 December 1857, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Virginia Military Institute._\n\n76. A. Mathieu, Paris, to Matthew Maury, 24 February 1860, in Ibid., J. G. de Roulhac Hamilton, ed., **Volume 5,** 1973, 151\u2013152: France awards him a \"Gold Medal.\"\n\n77. Matthew Maury to Maximilian, 10 November 1863, Box 19, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n78. Letter to Matthew Maury, 25 August 1865, Box 23, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n79. Matthew Maury to \"My Dear Children,\" 1 March 1866, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Virginia Military Institute._\n\n80. Matthew Maury to Corbin, 21 June 1870, **Matthew Maury Papers,** _Virginia Military Institute._\n\n81. **London Telegraph,** 25 February 1873.\n\n82. Charles Mial Dustin, \"The Knights of the Golden Circle: The Story of the Pacific Coast Secessionists,\" **Pacific Monthly,** 26 (November 1911): 495\u2013504, 495.\n\n83. Ibid., Manisha Sinha, **The Counterrevolution of Slavery,** 137.\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 7\n\n1. Ibid., Joseph Dorsey, **Slave Traffic in the Age of Abolition,** 210.\n\n2. Ibid., David R. Murray, **Odious Commerce,** 304. See also Ibid., David Eltis, **Economic Growth and the Ending of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade,** 216: \"In 1856 a group of old Brazilian slave traders now involved in the Cuban trade made the last recorded attempt to introduce slaves from Africa into Brazil.\" See Warren Howard, **American Slavers and the Federal Law, 1837\u20131862,** Berkeley: University of California Press, 1963, 46: \"by 1851 the Brazilian slave trade was vanishing, never to revive.\" But see Report from Rio de Janeiro, 4 March 1853, FO 128\/48, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : \"worry\" expressed that \"two slavers from the coast of Africa were daily expected to arrive and land their slaves to the northward. . . . apprehensive of a resuscitation of slave dealing enterprises\"; Letter from Rio, 5 February 1853, FO 128\/48: \"a person who has given much useful information to [me]\" about the slave trade says \"a North American brig, whose name has not transpired, was chartered by the agents of Thomas Costa Ramos, now a fugitive from this country for slave trading . . . and that she sailed after taking a crew and water on board . . . for the coast of Africa intending to engage in the forbidden traffic\"; Letter from Rio, 14 February 1853, FO128\/48: \"the fact of a North American brig fitted out for [trade] in port of Montevideo\"; B. F. Hallett, Office of U.S. Attorney-Massachusetts, to William Marcy, 5 January 1857, Record Group 59, Roll 1, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia** : \"the schooner Mary E. Smith . . . was fitted out for the slave trade in Boston and escaped tho warrants figured against her. . . . she went direct to Africa, took her cargo of slaves and was captured by the Brazilian government\"; Edmund Gabriel, Luanda, Angola, to Earl of Malmesbury, 10 October 1858, FO541\/1, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : \"Dr. Saturnino de Souza e Oliveira, the Brazilian Consul General . . . received intelligence that some parties here are forming a design to introduce slaves into the Brazils by landing them in Guayana [ _sic_ ] and afterwards removing them overland to Para and the other provinces in the north of that country.\" Edmund Gabriel to Earl of Malmesbury, 15 April 1859, FO541\/2, _Public Records Office_ : More rumors of a plan for \"introduction of slaves into the northern provinces of the Brazils, by way of Guiana.\" Edmund Gabriel to Lord Russell, 29 September 1859, FO541\/2: \"The Brazilian subject Francisco Antonio Flores of whose connection with the slave trade in this province\" is well known, returned to Luanda. He had been \"expelled\" in 1854 by the Portuguese. He was \"thoroughly skilled in the art of corrupting all the authorities around him. . . . notorious not only as a slave trader but as the chief instigator of that Traffic on this part of the coast\"; a \"guest of Flores\" and accompanying him was \"Senhor Joaquim Guedes de Carvalho Menzes\" who had served as \"Arbitrator\" on slave trade cases. See also Rear Admiral Fred Grey to Secretary of Admiralty, 21 March 1859, FO541\/2: \"I have no means of judging whether it is possible that any [slavers] may have landed in any part of the Brazilian territory.\"\n\n3. Christopher Lloyd, **The Navy and the Slave Trade: The Suppression of the African Slave Trade in the Nineteenth Century,** London: Frank Cass, 1968, 179.\n\n4. Philip S. Foner, **Business & Slavery: The New York Merchants and the Irrepressible Conflict,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1941, 164. See also David A. Ross, \"The Career of Domingo Martinez in the Bight of Benin, 1833\u20131864,\" **Journal of African History,** 6 (Number 1, 1965): 70\u201390, 87: \"One of the most important of these 'new' [slave] dealers was J.A. Machado, of New York, who in 1856 sent out a relative, Samuel da Costa [Soares], to organize his shipments of slaves. The position of the old traders as middle men in the trade was destroyed.\" See also Letter from New York to Thomas R. dos Santos, 28 December 1858, [translation], Correspondence of the Consul General in New York, 1839\u20131888, A28, M8, Torre 4, Piso Ensentell 6, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon_ : \"I had no 'trouble' in the proper acceptation of the word when the Martinho de Mello was about to sail on suspicion of her being in the slave trade. . . . the vessel alluded to was about to engage in the slave trade, she was boarded before leaving the wharf by the Deputy Marshall,\" which was an \"annoyance\"; the \"visit of such an unnecessary and utterly uncalled for character. . . . I am too well known in this city to suffer in reputation.\"\n\n5. **New York Times,** 9 March 1857; see also **New York Times,** 28 June 1856. **New York Times,** 15 July 1857.\n\n6. **New York Herald,** 15 August 1859: Mandingoes \"as slaves for general work\" were \"considered superior to the other tribes. The best agricultural laborers are to be found among the Congoes. . . . there is a tribe called the Carobali who appear to have a higher intellectual organization than either of those named . . . they are said to make capital peddlers and traders and for this reason they are employed at such occupations in cities and towns\"; they supplied a \"large majority of the water sellers of Havana and other cities.\"\n\n7. See Anne Farrow, et al., **Complicity: How the North Promoted, Prolonged, and Profited from Slavery,** New York: Ballantine, 2005, 125, 124.\n\n8. See William McBlair, to Isaac Toucey, Secretary of the Navy, 18 December 1857, in U.S. Congress. House. 36th Congress, 2nd Session. Ex. Doc. 7. **African Slave Trade. Message from the President of the United States.** 6 December 1860. _New York Historical Society._\n\n9. Ibid., David S. Heidler, **Pulling the Temple Down,** 81.\n\n10. Dickinson, Hill & Co., Account Book, 1855\u20131858, Octavo, Volume 3, **Slavery in the U.S. Collection,** _American Antiquarian Society._ In same collection see also Letter to Mr. Stokes, 12 February 1861, Box 1, Folder 8: \"there was one man sold here today for $1350.\" See also Isabel Howell, \"John Armfield of Beersheba Springs,\" **Tennessee Historical Quarterly,** 2 (March 1943, March-June 1944): 3\u201360, 5: this major trader \"handled thousands of black Africans\" though his \"letters and records seem to have been systematically destroyed.\"\n\n11. **Weekly Herald,** circa 1858, Box 1, Folder 4, **Henry Wise Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n12. Ibid., Manisha Sinha, **The Counterrevolution of Slavery,** 142, 143, 149.\n\n13. William K. Scarborough, ed., **The Diary of Edmund Ruffin, Volume 2,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1972, 67, 285.\n\n14. James K. Greer, **Louisiana Politics, 1845\u20131861,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1930, 191.\n\n15. Betty L. Mitchell, **Edmund Ruffin: A Biography,** Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1981, 124.\n\n16. Ibid., Eric H. Walther, **The Fire-Eaters,** 284.\n\n17. William O. Scroggs, **Filibusters and Financiers: The Story of William Walker and His Associates,** New York: Macmillan, 1916, 212.\n\n18. James Carson Jamison, **With Walker in Nicaragua or Reminiscences of an Officer of the American Phalanx,** Columbia, Missouri: E. W. Stephens, 1909, 99; see also General William Walker, **The War in Nicaragua,** Mobile: S. H. Goetzel & Co., 1860, 262.\n\n19. Robert G. Harper, \"An Argument Against the Policy of Re-opening the African Slave Trade,\" Atlanta: C. R. Hanleiter, 1858, P11003, _Western Reserve Historical Society\u2013Cleveland._\n\n20. **The Campaign Union,** 16 October 1860.\n\n21. Reports, circa 1859, H1470, 0046\/04, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid_ : Note was taken of the 31 August 1859 **New York Daily News** which contained an address of Jefferson Davis with the headline, \"Slavery and the Slave Trade defended. . . . Cuba a necessity.\" There was grave concern in Madrid about this latter point.\n\n22. Report from Spanish Consul in Galveston, 11 January 1856, H1890, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid_ : \"constituye a aquella ciudad en uno de los centros mas activos de conspiracion permanente contra Cuba.\"\n\n23. **De Bow's Review,** 1 October 1860.\n\n24. James Oakes, **The Ruling Race: A History of American Slaveholders,** New York: Norton, 1998, 231.\n\n25. **Weekly Herald,** circa 1858, Box 1, Folder 4, **Henry Wise Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n26. Henry J. Raymond, \"Disunion and Slavery: A Series of Letters to W. L. Yancey of Alabama,\" New York, 1861, _American Antiquarian Society._\n\n27. Speech by Henry Wilson, 21 May 1860, 973.7111 A75, _Peabody Essex Museum._ See also Rev. J. Leighton Wilson, D.D., \"The Foreign Slave Trade. Can it be Revived without Violating the Most Sacred Principles of Honor, Humanity and Religion,\" July 1859, 973.7111 W74.3, _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n28. South Carolina. General Assembly. Report of the Special Committee on Slavery and the Slave Trade. Columbia: 1857. E438\/S721. _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._\n\n29. Report of Committee of General Assembly, circa 1856, Item 03233, Series 165005, _South Carolina State Archives\u2013Columbia._ See also Emerson Etheridge, \"The Revival of the African Slave Trade,\" Delivered in the House of Representatives, 21 February 1857, 973.7111, A75, _Peabody Essex Museum._ See also Frederick Law Olmsted, **The Cotton Kingdom,** New York: Modern Library, 1984, 479.\n\n30. Report of Committee of General Assembly, 1856, Item 00096, Series 165005, _South Carolina State Archives._\n\n31. Report of Committee of General Assembly, circa 1858, Item 03846, Series 165005, _South Carolina State Archives._\n\n32. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 11 October 1858.\n\n33. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 23 November 1858.\n\n34. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 25 May 1859.\n\n35. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 9 March 1860.\n\n36. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 12 May 1860.\n\n37. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 19 May 1860.\n\n38. Joe Gray Taylor, \"The Foreign Slave Trade in Louisiana after 1808,\" **Louisiana History,** 1 (Number 1, Winter 1960): 36\u201343, 40.\n\n39. **New York Times,** 16 May 1854.\n\n40. Harvey Wish, \"The Revival of the African Slave Trade in the United States, 1856\u20131860,\" **Mississippi Valley Historical Review,** 27 (Number 4, March 1941): 569\u2013588, 572, 581, 582.\n\n41. Republican Association of Washington, Under the Direction of the Congressional Republican Executive Committee, Tract No. IV, \"The Slave Trade,\" 1859, P7638, _Western Reserve Historical Society._\n\n42. R. W. Russell to \"My Dear Sir,\" 30 September 1856, [translation]: Correspondence of Legation & Consulates of Portugal in the U.S., 1852\u20131867, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n43. Letter from Clarence Stanton, Maysville, Kentucky, 25 July 1859, [translation]: Correspondence of Legation & Consulates of Portugal in the U.S., 1852\u20131867: He asked Portugal's Consul General in New York if he could \"permit a native of the United States to hold a position either in the Navy or Army of Portugal. I am very desirous of entering into the service of Portugal. . . . I am the son of R. H. Stanton, late a member of the House of Representatives from Kentucky, I am nineteen years of age.\"\n\n44. J. A. Thomas to John Gillmer, U.S. Consul, Bahia, 15 April 1856, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7, **African Slave Trade. Message from the President of the United States.**\n\n45. B. F. Hallett to William Marcy, 5 January 1857, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7.\n\n46. William Marcy to John McKeon, 3 October 1856, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7. In same document see Report from Charles Wise of the Royal Navy, Congo, 23 August 1858: \"flagrant prostitution of the American flag to cover slave trading transactions. . . . a brig called the 'Charlotte' of New York . . . belonged to C. J. Figaniere of New York . . . then sold to Messrs. Cunha Reis of New York (the greatest slave dealer on the coast). . . . an advertisement shall appear in the New York papers to the effect that this very vessel has landed a cargo on ground nuts and oil at that port. The next case is the 'Venus' bark of 246 tons, belonging to George Butler of New Orleans,\" now in Congo, \"a slaver\"\u2014he was \"naturalized,\" a \"native of Hamburgh.\"\n\n47. Report from Nicholas Pike, 12 March 1857, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7.\n\n48. Commander Charles Wise to Sir. F. Grey, 6 August 1858, FO541\/1, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ See also \"Register of Suspected Slavers,\" 1860, Cuba, FO312\/30, _Public Records Office_ : Many hailed from New York, New Orleans, Key West, Galveston, Boston, Philadelphia, with some traveling to Montevideo, Rio de Janeiro, Pensacola, Mobile. A typical route was \"from N. Orleans for Havana . . . thence to St. Paul de Loanda.\" See also Edmund Gabriel, Luanda, to Lord Russell, 1 September 1859, FO541\/2: \"The barque 'Laura' which was dispatched from New Orleans by the firm of Pratts, Pujol & Co. in June last on a slave-trading expedition under Mexican colors\" was captured; they had thought that the Mexican flag \"would cover their crime in the same manner as that of the United States.\"\n\n49. Richard S. Coxe, L.L.D., Counsellor at Law, Washington, D.C., \"The Present State of the African Slave Trade,\" Washington, D.C.: Lemuel Towers, 1858, from **De Bow's Review,** November 1858, P5142, _Western Reserve Historical Society\u2013Cleveland._\n\n50. Report from D. H. Hamilton, U.S. Marshal, South Carolina, 10 February 1860, Record Group 48, Roll 3, **Records of the Department of Interior,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland_ : \"informed that a slaver . . . will be brought into that port if captured. Asks for authority to place the African in Ft. Sumner\"; in same file see D. H. Hamilton to President Buchanan, 10 February 1860: if Africans arrive as \"cargo . . . that instant arrangements should be made to remove them and return them to the coast of Africa\u2014not that they will not be quite safe in my custody but because a long stay here keeps up an excitement and we have not the 'yellow fever' as a guard from the presence of idle and curious persons.\" On same Roll, see Letter from 48 Exchange Place, New York City, 6 March 1860: \"I have just been informed . . . that during the night of the 24th February last about 1100 slaves were landed on the coast of Florida.\"\n\n51. To U.S. Department of State, 22 August 1860, Record Group 48, Roll 3, **Records of the Department of Interior.** On same Roll see Moses Kelly to U.S. President, 28 February 1861: \"in October last\" a slaver with \"694 Africans\" and another with \"about 616\" were captured by U.S. vessels and taken to Liberia. See also Letter to \"Agency for Recaptured Africans,\" 16 October 1860: A ship in New York City with \"694 recaptured Africans on board\" will be sent to Liberia, along with the \"1400\" on the \"'Storm King'\" and \"'Erie.'\" See also William C. Burke to Ralph R. Gurley, 31 August 1860, _G. W. Blunt Library\u2013Mystic, Connecticut._\n\n52. Letter to \"Agency for Recaptured Africans,\" 16 October 1860, in Ibid., Roll 3, **Records of the Department of Interior.**\n\n53. Report, 17 July 1860, Roll 5, **Records of the Department of Interior.** See also U.S. Congress. Senate. 38th Congress, 1st Session. Ex. Doc. No. 44, **Message from the President of the United States. Relative to the Capture of the Slaver Wildfire on the Coast of Cuba, by Lieutenant Craven, of the United States Steamer Mohawk.** 19 May 1860.973.7111 B91, _Peabody Essex Museum_ : This ship with 507 Negroes on board was sent to Key West. Madrid monitored these events in Florida: See Reports, circa May 1860, H1470, 0046\/04, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n54. Ibid., William K. Scarborough, ed., **The Diary of Edmund Ruffin, Volume 1,** 427, 10 June 1860.\n\n55. Letter from E. E. Blackburn, U.S. Marshal, Monticello, Florida, 25 December 1858, Roll 6, **Records of the Department of Interior** : \"schooner . . . has been on our coast lately selecting a suitable place to land a cargo of Africans.\" See also Henry Perry, River Congo, to Edmund Gabriel, Luanda, 2 May 1859, FO541\/2, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : A U.S. ship from Jacksonville was \"detained\" on the South Coast of Africa then let go; \"newspapers were also found on board containing accounts of indignation meetings held at Jacksonville, consequent of her detection by the authorities.\"\n\n56. Report from Howell Cobb, 3 March 1858, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7.\n\n57. Report from Howell Cobb, 22 May 1858, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7.\n\n58. **New York Times,** 17 August 1860.\n\n59. Letter from James Roosevelt, 22 August 1860, Roll 5, **Records of the Department of Interior.**\n\n60. Report, 17 October 1860, Roll 3, **Records of the Department of Interior.**\n\n61. Report, 31 October 1860, Roll 3, **Records of the Department of Interior.**\n\n62. Ronald T. Takaki, **A Pro-Slavery Crusade: The Agitation to Reopen the African Slave Trade,** New York: Free Press, 1971, 219, 220.\n\n63. Charles W. Thomas, **Adventures and Observations of the West Coast of Africa and its Islands,** New York: Derby & Jackson, 1860, 321.\n\n64. Ibid., Charles W. Thomas, 324, 325. See also Journal of Thomas A. Dornin, 1860\u20131861, _Huntington Library._\n\n65. Robert Edgar Conrad, **World of Sorrow: The African Slave Trade to Brazil,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1986, 142.\n\n66. See Edmund Gabriel to Lord Russell, 25 February 1860, FO 541\/3, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ :\n\n67. Lord Lyons to Lewis Cass, 5 December 1859, in Ibid., Ex. Doc.7. In same document see also Lyons to Cass, 3 December 1859. See also Lyons to Cass, 23 May 1859.\n\n68. Letter from Andrew Boyd Cummings, 4 October 1857, **Andrew Boyd Cummings Papers,** _U.S. Naval Academy\u2013Annapolis._\n\n69. Letter from Andrew Boyd Cummings, circa 1857, **Andrew Boyd Cummings Papers.**\n\n70. Letter from Andrew Boyd Cummings, 29 November 1858, **Andrew Boyd Cummings Papers.**\n\n71. Commodore George Eugene Belknap, ed., **Letters of Captain George Hamilton Perkins, USN,** Concord, New Hampshire: Ira Evans, 1886, 33, 34, 39, 224\u2013225.\n\n72. Letter to U.S. Navy, 20 April 1857, **William McBlair Collection,** _Mariners' Museum\u2013Newport News, Virginia._\n\n73. William McBlair to \"my dear wife,\" 16 November 1857, **William McBlair Papers.**\n\n74. Report from William McBlair, 23 September 1857, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7.\n\n75. Mrs. Charles E. B. Russell, **General Rigby, Zanzibar and the Slave Trade with Journals and Dispatches,** London: Allen & Unwin, 1935, 196, 175.\n\n76. Letter, 15 October 1860, Box 31, Folder 4, **Kimball Family Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n77. Letter, 7 September 1853, Box 27, Folder 2, **Kimball Family Papers.** \"I have done nearly $4000 worth of trade at this place with one man about a $1000 in cash & the rest in 2 months payable in oils. He is an Italian. . . . I sold him the remaining cloth I had on hand, also the tobacco.\"\n\n78. Letter, 4 September 1855, Box 27, Folder 2, **Kimball Family Papers.**\n\n79. Letter, 27 November 1855, Box 27, Folder 2, **Kimball Family Papers.**\n\n80. Letter, March 1856, Box 27, Folder 3, **Kimball Family Papers.**\n\n81. Letter, 5 March 1859, Box 27, Folder 4, **Kimball Family Papers.**\n\n82. Letter, 9 June 1859, Box 27, Folder 4, **Kimball Family Papers.**\n\n83. Charles Rich to \"Dear Sir,\" 7 May 1856, Box 1, Folder 8, **Robert Brookhouse Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n84. Letter from Robert Cunningham, 17 July 1859, Box 1, Folder 9, **Robert Brook-house Papers.**\n\n85. John Coker to \"Friend Augusto,\"22 October 1859, Box 1, Folder 9, **Robert Brookhouse Papers.**\n\n86. Letter to A. E. Govea, Esq., 19 April 1860, Box 1, Folder 9, **Robert BrookhousePapers**: \"I have only one American flag, therefore can not send you any.\"\n\n87. Letter from Simon Stodder, 6 November 1856, Box 1, Folder 2, **Simon Stodder Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n88. Clipping, circa 1858, [translation]: Correspondence of the Mixed Commission at the Cape of Good Hope, 1853\u20131859, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n89. Norman Robert Bennett, \"Americans in Zanzibar: 1845\u20131864,\" **Essex Institute Historical Collections,** 97 (Number 1, 1961): 31\u201356, 53.\n\n90. Letter to George Abbott, 13 March 1857, Box 1, Folder 1, **Charles Ward Papers,** _Peabody Essex Museum._\n\n91. George Howe, \"The Last Ship,\" 1860, Collection 503, #17, **Slave Manuscript Series,** _Tulane University\u2013New Orleans._\n\n92. Arthur Lyons, Galveston, to the Earl of Malmesbury, 21 December 1858, FO701\/27, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n93. Consul Thomas Miller to \"My Lord,\" 26 July 1856, FO84\/992, _Public Records Office._\n\n94. Report from U.K. Consul in the Azores, 12 November 1859, FO84\/1082, _Public Records Office._\n\n95. Ibid., **General Rigby, Zanzibar and the Slave Trade,** 198.\n\n96. \"Memo on State of Affairs of the Slave Trade,\" 23 June 1859, FO84\/1082, _Public Records Office._\n\n97. Joseph T. Crawford to Lord Russell, 5 February 1861, FO541\/5, _Public Records Office._\n\n98. Joseph T. Crawford to Earl of Malmesbury, 3 September 1858, FO541\/1, _Public Records Office._ See W. Edmonstone to Rear-Admiral Sir H. Keppel, Sierra Leone, 24 March 1861, FO541\/5, _Public Records Office._\n\n99. Edmund Gabriel to Earl of Clarendon, 25 February 1858, FO541\/3, _Public Records Office._\n\n100. Charles Wise to Fred Grey, 20 January 1859, FO541\/1, _Public Records Office._ See also G. Skelton to Earl of Malmesbury, 2 March 1859, FO541\/2. See also Rear Admiral Fred Grey to Secretary of Admiralty, 21 March 1859, FO541\/2. See also G. Skelton to Lord Russell, 3 February 1860, FO541\/2, _Public Records Office._\n\n101. Edmund Gabriel, Luanda, to Lord Russell, 20 September 1859, FO541\/2, _Public Records Office._\n\n102. H. V. Huntley to Lord Russell, 18 November 1860, FO541\/5, _Public Records Office._ See also Edmund Gabriel to Earl of Malmesbury, 15 April 1859, FO541\/2: \"The whole of this piratical trade on the African coast is now carried on under the disguise of the flag of the United States,\" even \"Spanish vessels\" were employing this banner and this had \"entirely frustrated\" London.\n\n103. H. V. Huntley to Lord Russell, 5 October 1860, FO541\/4, _Public Records Office._\n\n104. H. V. Huntley to Lord Russell, 31 October 1860, FO541\/4, _Public Records Office._\n\n105. Letter from Luanda, 4 September 1855, Caixa de Papeis Relativos a Escravatura, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon_ : Re: a U.S. barque, the \"Seamen,\" sailing for St. Thomas with ten enslaved Africans.\n\n106. Letter from the Governor General of Mozambique, 12 October 1855, Caixa de Papeis Relativos a Escravatura.\n\n107. Letter from Antonio Pedro de Carvalho, State Secretary of Foreign Affairs, 18 August 1856, Caixa de Papeis Relativos a Escravatura.\n\n108. J. A. Thomas to John Dobbin, 20 June 1856, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7. In same document see also Report from Thomas Crabbe, U.S. Navy, from Porto Praya, 18 April 1856.\n\n109. Report from John G. Willis, 9 January 1857, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7.\n\n110. Report from John G. Willis, 29 January 1859, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7. In the same document see Lord Lyons to Lewis Cass, 27 May 1859.\n\n111. Ibid., **General Rigby, Zanzibar and the Slave Trade,** 197.\n\n112. Fred Grey to Admiralty, 11 February 1858, FO541\/1, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n113. Report from British Consul in Zanzibar, 4 January 1861, FO54\/18, _Public Records Office._\n\n114. Lt. Col. Rigby to Sir C. Wood, 28 August 1860, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 47.**\n\n115. Report from Joseph T. Crawford, Havana, 5 February 1859, FO541\/2, _Public Records Office._\n\n116. Report from C. J. Helm, U.S. Consul in Cuba, 17 February 1860: \"the slave trade has been for some time upon the increase on the _eastern_ coast of Africa and that several large vessels under the American flag have shipped cargoes of slaves there . . . there are now indications of an intention on the part of the slave traders to resort still more extensively to the _eastern_ coast. This is doubtless to be accounted for the recent reinforcement of the United States Squadron on the western coast . . . on the _eastern_ coast of Africa there are no United States cruisers\" [emphasis-original].\n\n117. Charles Wise to Admiralty, 16 May 1859, FO541\/2, _Public Records Office._\n\n118. Report of John G. Willis, 19 November 1859, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7.\n\n119. Charles Wise to F. Grey, 20 July 1859, FO541\/2, _Public Records Office._\n\n120. See Lord Lyons to Lewis Cass, 4 May 1860, in Ibid., Ex. Doc. 7: \"A brig called the 'Delicia' fully equipped for the slave trade but without colors or papers to denote her nationality, was captured off [Cabinda]\" by a U.S. ship. Yet ship and crew were \"discharged from custody in the United States, on the ground that there is no act of Congress under which either vessel or crew can be prosecuted in the courts of law.\"\n\n121. Lewis Cass to Lord Lyons, 3 April 1860, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 47.**\n\n122. Ibid., Andrew C. McLaughlin, **Lewis Cass,** 336.\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 8\n\n1. Harral E. Landry, \"Slavery and the Slave Trade in Atlantic Diplomacy, 1850\u20131861,\" **Journal of Southern History,** 27 (Number 2, May 1961): 184\u2013207, 185, 192, 206, 207.\n\n2. Willis D. Boyd, \"The American Colonization Society and the Slave Recaptives of 1860\u20131861: An Early Example of United States\u2013African Relations,\" **Journal of Negro History,** 47 (Number 2, April 1962): 108\u2013126, 110. See also D. H. Hamilton to Lewis Cass, 24 November 1860, Record Group 48, Roll 3, **Records of the Department of Interior** : A \"vessel was brought into the port of Charleston . . . as a slaver captured upon the coast of Africa\"; \"discontinue proceedings\" since it was \"unlawfully seized. . . . she together with her cargo should be delivered to the Spanish Consul.\"\n\n3. Betty M. Kuyk, **African Voices in the African American Heritage,** Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 2003, 20, 22: \"Amelia Island was such a choice location that that notorious pirate Luis Aury moved his headquarters there from Galveston, Texas in 1817. Within two months he sent 1000 Africans inland.\"\n\n4. L. W. Spratt, **The Foreign Slave Trade: The Source of Political Power\u2014of Material Progress, of Social Integrity and of Social Emancipation to the South,** Charleston: Steam Power Press, 1858, 21\u201322, 25, 26.\n\n5. Cited in Joaquim Nabuco, **Abolitionism: The Brazilian Antislavery Struggle,** Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1977, 121\u2013122.\n\n6. Ibid., David Eltis, **Economic Growth and the Ending of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade,** 210.\n\n7. Report from Gabriel G. Tassara, Spanish Minister in Washington, circa 1860, Correspondencia entre La Capitania General de Cuba y La Primera Secretaria de Estado Sobre La Introduccion de Esclavos (1817\u20131873), Legajo 8048, _Archivo Historico Nacional\u2013Madrid._\n\n8. Hon. J. B. Clary, \"Speech on our Foreign Policy Delivered in the House of Representatives, February 7, 1859,\" Washington, D.C.: Lemuel Towers, 1859, F1438 C345, _New York Historical Society._\n\n9. Referring to the secessionist states by their chosen name is not intended to confer retrospective diplomatic recognition on this illegal breakaway formation.\n\n10. See Dean B. Mahin, **One War at a Time: The International Dimensions of the American Civil War,** Washington, D.C.: Brassey's, 1999, 17.\n\n11. Judah Benjamin to John Mason, 15 January 1863, in Allan Nevins, ed., **The Messages and Papers of Jefferson Davis and the Confederacy Including Diplomatic Correspondence, 1861\u20131865,** New York: Chelsea House, 1966, 403\u2013404.\n\n12. Judah P. Benjamin to L. Q. C. Lamar, 15 January 1863, in **The African Slave Trade: The Secret Purpose of the Insurgents to Revive It. . . . Judah P. Benjamin's Intercepted Instructions to L. Q. C. Lamar,** Philadelphia: C. Sherman, Son & Co. Printers, 1863, 244\u2013322, _Huntington Library._\n\n13. **Proceedings and Debates of the 1864 Constitutional Convention,** Volume 0102, Volume 1, Debates 0311, _Maryland State Archives\u2013Annapolis._\n\n14. Consul Robert Bunch to Lord Russell, 8 March 1861, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 47.**\n\n15. \"Folio 1,\" 1 January 1853, H1879, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n16. See Correspondence from Spanish Consul in Charleston, 5 November 1851, 15 August 1850, 31 October 1849, 15 October 1849, 24 September 1846, H179, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._ In same file see also \"Special Report\" on \"Confederate States of America Treasury Department Register's Office Richmond, Va. July 31, 1861,\" re: tariffs sent to Spanish Consul in Charleston.\n\n17. A. G. McGrath to Spanish Consul, 12 February 1861, H1879, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n18. See P. J. Rost to R. M. T. Hunter, 21 March 1862, Report and **New York Herald,** clipping, no date, reprinting Rost letter, H1471, 1862\/1864, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n19. Records Concerning the Cuban Expedition, 1850\u20131851, Record Group 48, Entry 142, Box 1, **Records of the Department of Interior,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n20. Report, 13 August 1859, [translation]: Legation of Spain in London, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n21. Samuel Flagg Bemis, **John Quincy Adams and the Foundations of American Foreign Policy,** New York: Knopf, 1965, 409.\n\n22. Report of Meeting, 1 June 1849, FO312\/2, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._ See also **National Era,** 8 July 1852. Earlier the **National Era** of 11 September 1851, cited the **British and Foreign AntiSlavery Reporter** to a similar effect.\n\n23. D. Trumbull and A. R. Hamilton to Lord Palmerston, 7 July 1849, FO312\/2, _Public Records Office._\n\n24. Ibid., **Proceedings and Debates of the 1864 Constitutional Convention,** Volume 0102, Volume 1, Debates 0718.\n\n25. Ibid., J. B. Clary, 1859.\n\n26. I. G. Collins, **Scinde & the Punjab, The Gems of India, in Respect to their Vast and Unparalleled Capabilities of Supplanting the Slave States of America in the Cotton Markets of the World: Or an Appeal to the English Nation on Behalf of its Great Cotton Interest, Threatened with Inadequate Supplies of the Raw Material,** Manchester: A. Ireland and Co., 1858, 11, 12.\n\n27. I. G. Collins, **An Essay in Favour of the Colonization of the North and Northwest Provinces of India, with Regard to the Question of Increased Cotton Supply andits Bearing on the Slave Trade,** London: W. H. Allen, 1858, 9; see also By an Indian Civil Servant, \"Usurers and Ryots: An Answer to the Question 'Why Does Not India Produce More Cotton?'\" London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1856, _British Library\u2013London._\n\n28. David Brion Davis, \"Impact of the French and Haitian Revolution,\" in David P. Geggus, ed., **The Impact of the Haitian Revolution in the Atlantic World,** Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 2002, 3\u20139, 5.\n\n29. David P. Geggus, \"Epilogue,\" in Ibid., **The Impact of the Haitian Revolution in the Atlantic World,** 274\u2013252, 251, 247.\n\n30. Madrid took note of an 1843 \"proclamation\" from Haiti that reminded all that \"'our Fathers heroically gained their liberty and country on the field of battle by making those bite the dust, who for years held them in a criminal and cruel slavery.'\" See **Jamaica Despatch,** 19 April 1843, H2523\/003, 1862, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._ See also Report, 23 March 1843, Del Consulado en Jamaica al Primer Secretario, Legado H2523\/003, File: \"Haiti,\" _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid_ : Haiti is said to be in a state of revolution, which was of great relevance to Cuba and Puerto Rico.\n\n31. Ibid., **Jamaica Despatch,** 13 April 1843, H2523\/003, 1862.\n\n32. John V. Lombardi, **The Decline and Abolition of Negro Slavery in Venezuela, 1820\u20131854,** Westport: Greenwood, 1971, 36.\n\n33. Report from Angel Calderon de la Barca, 8 December 1836, Correspondencia entre La Capitania General de Cuba y La Primera Secretaria de Estado Sobre La Introduccion de Esclavos, 1817\u20131873, Legado 8036, _Archivo Historico Nacional\u2013Madrid._ Concern was expressed here about the growth of abolitionism in the Northeast U.S. and the prospect of Cuban sugar was considered in light of the development of this crop in Florida and Louisiana.\n\n34. Report and **New York Daily Tribune,** 27 May 1861, H1470, 0046\/04, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n35. **British Packet and Argentine News,** 17 January 1857. See also **British Packet and Argentine News,** 3 August 1850. _Biblioteca Nacional de Argentina\u2013Buenos Aires._\n\n36. Report from Office of the American Colonization Society, 2 September 1835, Oficios, 1862, 233\/3\/2, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamary\u2013Rio de Janeiro_ : \"The committee . . . was referred to the application of Cavalcante Albuquerque, on behalf of his government, to the American Colonization Society, deciding to know whether said society will consent to receive, protect and accommodate in Liberia, their colony in Africa, such recaptured Africans as may be taken by Brazilian cruisers from such vessels as may be unlawfully carrying them from their native land, and deliver to the society agent in Liberia.\" See also [translation], Manifesto of the Brazilian Anti-Slavery Society, Rio de Janeiro: Reprinted from the 'Rio News,' 1880, _New York Historical Society._\n\n37. See John Cell, **The Highest Stage of White Supremacy: The Origins of Segregation in South Africa and the American South,** New York: Cambridge University Press, 1982.\n\n38. **National Era,** 23 September 1847.\n\n39. **National Era,** 17 August 1854.\n\n40. **National Era,** 31 August 1854.\n\n41. **National Era,** 29 June 1854.\n\n42. Ibid., Joaquim Nabuco, **Abolitionism,** 162.\n\n43. **National Era,** 11 May 1854.\n\n44. **New York Times,** 29 September 1865.\n\n45. **New York Times,** 27 May 1861.\n\n46. **New York Times,** 16 February 1858.\n\n47. See Notes on Richard Meade meeting with the Emperor, 6 July 1861, Group 683, Series I, Box 6, Folder 87, **James Watson Webb Papers,** _Yale University._\n\n48. James Watson Webb to William Seward, 24 October 1861, in **Papers Relating to Foreign Affairs, Part 2, Communicatedto Congress, 1 December 1862,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1862. _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n49. Ibid., **Proceedings and Debates of the 1864 Constitutional Convention,** Volume 0102, Volume 1, Debates 0718.\n\n50. **Liberator,** 3 February 1860.\n\n51. **De Bow's Review,** 1 July 1860.\n\n52. **Illustrated London News,** 22 December 1860.\n\n53. W. D. Christie to Lord Russell, 2 June 1860, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 64, Number 47.**\n\n54. **Charleston Mercury,** 6 December 1861.\n\n55. **New York Times,** 15 March 1862.\n\n56. **New York Times,** 9 May 1862, Washington, Oficios, 1863\u20131864, _Archivo Historico do Itamaraty\u2013Rio de Janeiro._\n\n57. Translation of Remarks, circa November 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n58. Thomas Adamson to William Seward, 12 July 1862, Roll 6, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco, 1817\u20131906.**\n\n59. W. Edmonstone to Rear-Admiral Sir H. Keppel, Sierra Leone, 24 March 1861, FO541\/5, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n60. Letter from Ascension Island to Rear-Admiral Sir B. Walker, 20 July 1861, FO541\/5, _Public Records Office._\n\n61. H. V. Huntley and Edmund Gabriel to Lord Russell, 10 October 1861, FO541\/5, _Public Records Office._\n\n62. H. V. Huntley to Lord Russell, 7 June 1861, FO541\/5, _Public Records Office_ : \"detention of the American brigantine 'Triton' by the U.S. ship 'Constellation' . . . in the River Congo\"; it had \"slave fittings.\"\n\n63. H. V. Huntley to Lord Russell, 9 August 1861, FO541\/5, _Public Records Office._\n\n64. W. H. McGrath, Consul, Maranham, Brazil to William Seward, 15 September 1861, FO9881\/2097, _Public Records Office._\n\n65. Lord Lyons to Foreign Office, 26 March 1861, in James J. Barnes and Patience P. Barnes, **Private and Confidential Letters from British Ministers in Washington to the Foreign Secretaries in London, 1844\u20131867,** Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania: Susquehanna University Press, 1993, 242.\n\n66. Her Majesty's Commissioners to Earl Russell, 21 November 1861, in **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n67. Commodore Edmonstone to Rear Admiral Sir B. Walker, 7 November 1861, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n68. **Lewiston Journal Magazine,** 11\u201314 May 1910, Box 3, Folder, \"Slavery\/Slave Trade,\" **African Americans in Maine Collection,** _Maine Historical Society\u2013Portland._\n\n69. Ibid., Anne Farrow, et al., **Complicity,** 123.\n\n70. **Maine Sunday Telegram,** 15 February 1987.\n\n71. Ibid., **Lewiston Journal Magazine,** 11\u201314 May 1910.\n\n72. U.S. States vs. Nathaniel Gordon, U.S. Circuit Court, Southern District, C 1-228a-229b, 1860\u20131861, _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013New York City._\n\n73. **New York Herald,** 21 September 1861.\n\n74. John R. Spears, **The American Slave Trade: An Account of Its Origin, Growth and Suppression,** New York: Scribner's, 1900, 221. See also **New York Times,** 21 February 1862; see also Ron Soodalter, **Hanging Captain Gordon: The Life and Trial of an American Slave Trader,** New York: Atria, 2006.\n\n75. E. Delafield Smith to Caleb Smith, 22 November 1861, Record Group 48, Roll 4, **Records of the Department ofInterior,** _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park._\n\n76. Charles H. Jenrich, \"An Error in Flag,\" **U.S. Naval Institute Proceedings,** January 1868, Vertical Files: Nathaniel Gordon, _U.S. Naval Academy\u2013Annapolis._\n\n77. \"Lincoln and the Negro,\" Box 3, Folder: Slavery\/Slave Trade, **African Americans in Maine Collection,** _Maine Historical Society\u2013Portland._\n\n78. Consul Archibald to Earl Russell, 24 February 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n79. Ibid., John R. Spears, **The American Slave Trade,** 221.\n\n80. R. F. Turing to Earl Russell, 16 January 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n81. Consul Archibald to Earl Russell, 17 November 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n82. E. Delafield Smith to Caleb Smith, 26 April 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.** See also Letter to Caleb Smith, February 1862, Record Group 48, Roll 4, **Records of the Department of Interior** : In New Bedford a \"slaver\" was \"seized\" that was \"ostensibly fitted for a whaling voyage.\"\n\n83. William Seward to C. B. Smith, Secretary of Interior, 19 April 1862, Record Group 48, Roll 3, **Records of the Department of Interior.**\n\n84. Robert Murray, U.S. Marshal, New York City, to E. Delafield Smith, 26 November 1861, Record Group 48, Roll 4, **Records of the Department of Interior.**\n\n85. E. Delafield Smith to Caleb Smith, 4 February 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.** See also **New York Daily Tribune,** 26 November 1861.\n\n86. W. D. Christie to Earl Russell, 15 November 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n87. Rear Admiral Sir B. Walker, Simon's Bay to Secretary to the Admiralty, 15 September 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n88. H. D. Hickley, Commander, to Vice-Admiral Sir A. Milne, 5 June 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n89. E. Delafield Smith to Caleb Smith, 19 May 1862, Record Group 48, Roll 4, **Records of the Department of Interior.**\n\n90. Letter from Manoel d'Oliviera Lima, 24 March 1862, Papeis Relativos a Escravatura, _Archivo Hist\u00f3ricoDiplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n91. Letter from Arthur Magenis, 23 May 1862, Papeis Relativos a Escravatura.\n\n92. Letter to \"Monsieur Le Minister,\"20 January 1862, Papeis Relativos a Escravatura.\n\n93. Letter from \"Gustav . . . Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary of Portugal,\" 21 January 1861, [translation]: Correspondence of the Consul General in New York, 1839\u20131888, A28, M8, Torre 4 Piso, Ensentell 6, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n94. Letter from Robert dos Santos, 31 July 1862, Correspondence of the Consul General in New York, 1839\u20131888.\n\n95. J. de Palma to A. M. da Cunha, 13 October 1865, Correspondence of the Consul General in New York, 1839\u20131888.\n\n96. H. W. Slocum, Major General-U.S., to General E. D. Townsend, 25 August 1866, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the U.S. Government, 1835\u20131869, A28, M17 Torre 4 Piso Estante 1, 15 _Archivo Hist\u00f3ricoDiplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n97. William Seward to William Figaniere, 25 August 1866, Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the U.S. Government, 1835\u20131869.\n\n98. Letter from A. M. da Cunha, 13 December 1864, Correspondence of the Consul General in New York, 1839\u20131888.\n\n99. William Seward to William Figaniere, 26 June 1862, Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the U.S. Government, 1835\u20131869.\n\n100. William Seward to William Figaniere, 28 January 1863, Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the U.S. Government, 1835\u20131869.\n\n101. U.K. Embassy to William Figaniere, 8 November 1862, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of Foreign Legations and Consulates in the United States, Torre 4 Piso Estante 1, I, A28, M10, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 9\n\n1. B. Lindsay to James Watson Webb, January 1862, Group 683, Series I, Box 10, Folder 111, **James Watson Webb Papers,** _Yale University._\n\n2. J. G. Benton to \"My Dear General,\" 28 February 1862, Group 683, Series I, Box 6, Folder 95, **James Watson Webb Papers.**\n\n3. James Watson Webb to Luther Bradish, 10 October 1838, **Miscellaneous Mss.,** _New York Historical Society._\n\n4. Hannibal Hamlin to James Watson Webb, 29 November 1862, Box 9, Folder 100, **James Watson Webb Papers.**\n\n5. Excerpt from Leonard Richard, **Gentlemen of Property and Standing,** 26\u201327, Box 3, **African-Americans in Maine Collection,** _Maine Historical Society._\n\n6. James L. Crouthamel, **James Watson Webb: A Biography,** Middletown: Wesleyan University Press, 1969, 24, 56, 57, 25\u201326, 22. See James Watson Webb to C. L. Lazarus, 23 February 1863, Group 683, Series I, Box 10, Folder 111, **James Watson Webb Papers** : \"I appointed you acting secretary of the legation; & you presumed upon the fact to introduce into my House a German Jew Pedlar without my sanction\" [emphasis-original].\n\n7. Elise Lemire, **'Miscegenation': Making Race in America,** Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2002, 59.\n\n8. Lerone Bennett, **Forced into Glory: Abraham Lincoln's White Dream,** Chicago: Johnson Publishing Company, 2000, 380.\n\n9. Dean B. Mahin, **One War at a Time: The International Dimensions of the American Civil War,** 131, 2.\n\n10. Clipping, circa August 1863, Washington, Oficios, 1863\u20131864, _Archivo Historico do Itamaraty\u2013Rio de Janeiro._\n\n11. Ibid., James L. Crouthamel, 173.\n\n12. Ibid., Dean B. Mahin, 197.\n\n13. Ibid., Najia Aarim-Heriot, **Chinese Immigrants, African Americans and Racial Anxiety in the United States, 1848\u20131882,** 65, 67, 71, 238.\n\n14. Speech by Hon. Francis Blair of Missouri on the Acquisition of Central America; Delivered in the House of Representatives, 14 January 1858, _Kansas State Historical Society\u2013Topeka._\n\n15. See [translation] Annex of Despatch Number 209 of the Spanish Legation in Washington, D.C., re: HR 576, 37th Congress, 2nd Session, House of Representatives, Report No. 148, H2523\/003, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n16. \"Outlines of a Plan for Providing a Settlement . . .\" September 1824, S10, C2, A1-3, _Archivo General de la Naci\u00f3n\u2013Buenos Aires._\n\n17. Ibid., Robert E. May, **Manifest Destiny's Underworld,** 153.\n\n18. Ibid., Najia Aarim-Heriot, 47.\n\n19. Ibid., William H. Edwards, **A Voyage up the River Amazon,** 204.\n\n20. Ibid., Lawrence Hill, **Diplomatic Relations Between the United States and Brazil,** 159\u2013160.\n\n21. Bridgett M. Williams, \"James Monroe: Consul to Rio, 1863\u20131869,\" M.A. thesis, Youngstown State University, 1991, 15, 30, 54, 57.\n\n22. **New York Times,** 28 December 1862.\n\n23. James Watson Webb to William Seward, May 1862, Box 8, Folder 99, **James Watson Webb Papers.** See also N. Andrew Cleven, \"Some Plans for Colonizing Liberated Negro Slaves in Hispanic America,\" **Journal of Negro History,** 11 (Number 1, January 1926): 35\u201349, 41, 43, 47.\n\n24. \"Confidential\" undated document, probably from James Watson Webb, Box 8, Folder 99, **James Watson Webb Papers.**\n\n25. Memo from Government of Brazil, circa 8 July 1862, Box 8, Folder 102, **James Watson Webb Papers.**\n\n26. Sir F. W. C. Murdoch to Sir F. Rogers, 14 July 1862, FO5\/934, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens._\n\n27. Report, 12 August 1862, FO5\/934, _Public Records Office._\n\n28. F. W. C. Murdoch to Sir F. Rogers, 19 August 1862, FO5\/934, _Public Records Office._\n\n29. From Government House, 22 August 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n30. Letter from British Honduras, 15 October 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n31. Letter from British Honduras, 14 December 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n32. Memo, 22 September 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n33. Memo, 4 September 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n34. To \"My Lord,\" 18 October 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n35. Report, 15 September 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n36. William Seward to \"Sir,\" 30 September 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n37. Report, 18 October 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n38. Lord Lyons to \"My Lord,\" 27 January 1863, FO5\/934.\n\n39. Lord Lyons to London, 26 December 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n40. Lord Lyons to \"My Lord,\" 27 April 1863, FO5\/934.\n\n41. Letter to Lord Russell from London Legation in Washington, D.C., 28 September 1862, FO5\/934.\n\n42. **Jamaica Guardian,** 18 September 1862, 19 September 1862, FO 5\/934.\n\n43. Letter from Lord Lyons, 19 June 1863, FO5\/934.\n\n44. Report from [translation]: Consul General of Spain in Haiti, 8 April 1863, H2523\/003, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n45. Annual Report of President Abraham Lincoln, H1984, _Ministerio de Asuntos Exteriores\u2013Madrid._\n\n46. William Seward to James Watson Webb, 21 July 1862, Box 8, Folder 103, **James Watson Webb Papers.**\n\n47. Richard Parsons to James Watson Webb, 24 August 1862, Box 9, Folder 105, **James Watson Webb Papers.**\n\n48. William Seward to James Watson Webb, 21 July 1862, in George Baker, ed., **The Works of William Seward: The Diplomatic History of the War for the Union,** Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1884, 334\u2013337.\n\n49. Ibid., James L. Crouthamel, 174.\n\n50. W. Vredenburg to Capt. Bythesea, 21 December 1863, in **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n51. \"Her Majesty's Commissioner to Earl Russell,\" in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n52. E. M. Archibald, Her Majesty's Judge on the Mixed Commission to Earl Russell, 31 December 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n53. Commodore Wilmot to Rear Admiral Sir B. Walker, 31 December 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n54. Report, 21 February 1865, **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 75, Number 50.**\n\n55. Andrew Foote to Gideon Welles, 13 June 1862, **Miscellaneous Mss.,** _New York Historical Society._\n\n56. \"Treaty Between Her Majesty and the United States of America for the Suppression of the African Slave Trade,\" 7 April 1862, HT1322 G7, _Louisiana State University\u2013Baton Rouge._\n\n57. Frederick J. Blue, \"Oberlin's James Monroe: Forgotten Abolitionist,\" **Civil War History,** 35 (Number 4, December 1989): 285\u2013301, 285, 286.\n\n58. Catherine M. Rokicky, **James Monroe: Oberlin's Christian Statesman & Reformer, 1821\u20131898,** Kent: Kent State University Press, 2002, 97.\n\n59. Ibid., Bridgett M. Williams, 39.\n\n60. Minister of Justice, Brazil, to Brazilian Legislature, 18 May 1864, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n61. W. G. Lettsom, U.K. Consul in Montevideo, to Earl Russell, 22 September 1864, in Ibid., **Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n62. James Watson Webb to Marquis d'Abrantes, 7 March 1863, in **Papers Relating to Foreign Affairs, Accompanying the Annual Message of the President to the First Session of the Thirty-Eighth Congress, Part I,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1864, _National Archives and Records Administration\u2013College Park, Maryland._\n\n63. See e.g. **Correio Mercantil,** 8 November 1861, 9 November 1861.\n\n64. W. D. Christie to Earl Russell, 26 February 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n65. William B. Wilson to Earl Russell, 30 September 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n66. John V. Crawford, Havana, to Earl Russell, 14 January 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.** In same volume see R. Edwards, Madrid, to Maquis of Miraflores, 2 May 1863: \"The 'Island Queen' was fitted out in the United States at Havana in March 1862 with [U.S.] colors and papers and was commanded by R. Ducham a noted slave captain.\" It was on its way to Angola. \"Mr. Murray\" to J. M. Brackenbury, 26 March 1863: Re: capture of a slaver, \"formerly the 'Island Queen' of Washington\" which \"changed ownership at Cadiz.\" J. M. Brackenbury to Earl Russell, 22 April 1864: This ship was built in Providence, Rhode Island in 1854.\n\n67. G. Skelton, Judge on Mixed Commission, Sierra Leone, to Earl Russell, 30 September 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n68. J. M. Brackenbury to Earl Russell, 5 February 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n69. Rear Admiral Sir B. Walker to the Secretary of the Admiralty, 17 November 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n70. Commander Fred Richards to Commodore Wilmost, 7 July 1864, in ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49.**\n\n71. See e.g. Commissioner of Customs, Thomas Freemantle and J. Goulburn to Lords Commissioner of the Treasury, 25 July 1863, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49** : Britain captures a New York ship \"Marquita\" near Luanda with \"471 slaves on board; the principal was \"of Spanish or Portuguese birth but is a naturalized citizen of the United States of America and resides in New York.\" He was \"named Lima Vianni or Viana.\"\n\n72. Edmund Gabril and H. V. Huntley, 28 February 1862, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 71, Number 48.**\n\n73. **New York Times,** 19 December 1863.\n\n74. Thomas Adamson, Jr., Consul, to William Seward, 14 November 1864, Record Group 59, Roll 7, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco.**\n\n75. William Richard Williams to William Seward, 10 August 1862, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para.**\n\n76. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 10 January 1862.\n\n77. William Seward to James Watson Webb, 13 April 1862, Box 8, Folder 97, **James Watson Webb Papers.**\n\n78. **New York Times,** 17 November 1864.\n\n79. Biography of Raphael Semmes, no date, Box 4, Folder 70, **Hughes-Folsom Papers,** _Georgia Historical Society\u2013Savannah._\n\n80. Edward Boykin, **Ghost Ship of the Confederacy: The Story of the Alabama and her Captain,** New York: Funk & Wagnalls, 1957, 298, 299. See also Charles Robinson III, **Shark of the Confederacy: The Story of the CSS Alabama,** Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1995, 87.\n\n81. Raphael Semmes, **The Cruise of the Alabama and the Sumter,** New York: Carleton, 1894, 35, 36.\n\n82. James Tertius de Kay, **The Rebel Raiders: The Astonishing History of the Confederacy's Secret Navy,** New York: Ballantine, 2002, 169.\n\n83. Eric Rosenthal, **Stars and Stripes in Africa: Being a History of American Achievements in Africa by Explorers, Missionaries, Pirates, Adventurers, Hunters, Miners, Merchants, Scientists, Soldiers, Showmen, Engineers, and Others with Some Account of Africans who Have Played a Part in American Affairs,** London: Routledge, 1938, 134, 140, 133. See also **South African Advertiser and Mail,** 5 August 1863. See also Alan R. Booth, \"Americans in South Africa, 1784\u20131870,\" Ph.D. dissertation, Boston University, 1964.\n\n84. John S. Wise, **The End of an Era,** Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1899, 191.\n\n85. Duke of Newcastle to Sir Philip E. Wodehouse, 4 November 1863, GH 1\/299\/141, _State Archives\u2013Cape Town._\n\n86. Sir Philip E. Wodehouse to Duke of Newcastle, 19 August 1863, GH 23\/29\/104, _State Archives\u2013Cape Town._\n\n87. Walter Graham, U.S. Consul, to London, 17 August 1863, GH 1\/300\/156, _State Archives\u2013Cape Town._\n\n88. Elizabeth Catherine Bott, \"Admiral Semmes, CN,\" **Louisiana State University Bulletin,** 2 (Number 2, February 1911): 1\u20138, 1, 2.\n\n89. Ibid., James Tertius de Kay, 135.\n\n90. Edna and Frank Bradlow, **Here Comes the Alabama: The Career of a Confederate Raider,** Cape Town: A. A. Balkema, 1958, 53.\n\n91. Rafael Semmes, **Memoirs of a Service Afloat During the War Between the States,** Baltimore: Kelly, Piet & Co., 1869, 599, 602, 611, 616, 620, 638. See also Journal and Scrapbook from Civil War, Box 1, **William P. Brooks Papers,** _Georgia Historical Society\u2013Savannah._\n\n92. Ibid., James Tertius de Kay, 149.\n\n93. John McIntosh Kell, **Recollections of a Naval Life,** Washington: Neale, 1900, 219.\n\n94. James Monroe, \"Special Duties of Consuls of the United States During the Civil War,\" no date, Box 24, **James Monroe Papers,** _Oberlin College._ See also Statement taken by Thomas Adamson, Jr., 27 April 1863, Record Group 59, Roll 7, **Dispatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco.**\n\n95. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 10 August 1863.\n\n96. James Watson Webb to Brazilian Government, 10 December 1861, Box 7, Folder 92, **James Watson Webb Papers.**\n\n97. Ibid., Dean B. Mahin, 146, 158.\n\n98. Thomas Wilson, U.S. Consul, to William Seward, 30 May 1863, Record Group 59, Roll 3, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n99. Letter from \"Palace of the Government of Bahia,\" 12 May 1863, Record Group 59, Roll 3, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n100. Thomas Wilson to William Seward, 14 November 1864, Record Group 59, Roll 3, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n101. William Richard Williams to William Seward, 14 June 1862, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para.**\n\n102. Circular from James Watson Webb, 9 October 1864, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n103. James Monroe, \"Consular Experiences in Brazil,\" no date, Box 24, **James Monroe Papers.**\n\n104. Letter from Raphael Semmes, 16 June 1864, **London Times,** Mss1 Se535a, 147\u2013170, **Raphael Semmes Papers,** _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._\n\n105. \"From Palace of the Government,\" Pernambuco, 8 May 1863, Record Group 59, Roll 7, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco.**\n\n106. Letter from Jo\u00e3o Silveira e de Souza, 9 May 1863, Record Group 59, Roll 7, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco.**\n\n107. Thomas Adamson to William Seward, 23 July 1863, Record Group 59, Roll 7, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Pernambuco.**\n\n108. Thomas Wilson to James Watson Webb, 31 October 1864, Record Group 59, Roll 3, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n109. David F. Long, **Gold Braid and Foreign Relations: Diplomatic Activities of U.S. Naval Officers, 1798\u20131883,** Annapolis: Naval Institute Press, 1988, 328.\n\n110. Thomas Wilson to William Seward, 14 November 1864, Record Group 59, Roll 3, **Despatches of U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n111. **Diary of Gideon Welles, Volume 2, April 1, 1864\u2013December 31, 1866,** Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1911, 184\u2013186. See also Colonel W. de Raasloff, Peruvian Navy, to John Ericsson, 24 May 1862, **John Ericsson Letters,** _New York Historical Society_ : Ericsson was a Swede toiling for the Union and his correspondent offered to \"construct for your Government an Armor Clad Iron Steam Vessel of war, with revolving turret on the Monitor system. This vessel to be precisely similar to the six vessels of this class, which I am now building for the United States government. . . . for the sum of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars. . . . also willing to procure an experienced sea captain and crew to take the vessel to any port of Peru that you shall name, provided your Government agrees to pay all expenses connected with the voyage.\"\n\n112. Statement by William Seward, 23 February 1865, Washington, Oficios, 1865, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty\u2013Rio de Janeiro_\n\n113. Ibid., William Seward to Government of Brazil, 26 December 1864, Washington, Oficios, 1865.\n\n114. Frank Lawrence Osley, **King Cotton Diplomacy: Foreign Relations of the Confederate States of America,** Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1959, 255.\n\n115. William K. Scarborough, ed., **The Diary of Edmund Ruffin, Volume 3: A Dream Shattered, June 1863\u2013June 1865,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1972, 664, 1 December 1864.\n\n116. C. M. Morris to President of Brazil, Box 1, Folder 3, **Confederate States of America Collection,** _Yale University._\n\n117. James Dwyer to C. M. Morris, 13 October 1864, Box 1, Folder 3, **Confederate States of America Collection.**\n\n118. CSA Resolution \"In Relation to the Seizure of the Confederate war-steamer Florida,\" 30 November 1864, **Catalogued Broadsides,** _University of Virginia\u2013Charlottesville._ See also **Confederate Imprint 238:** \"Report of the Committee on Foreign Relations,\" CSA, 30 November 1864, _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._ See also \"Journal of the Congress of the Confederate States of America, 1861\u20131865,\" Volume 4, 58th Congress, 2nd Session, Senate. Document No. 234, Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 30 November 1864, _Huntington Library\u2013San Marino, California._\n\n119. Ibid., James Monroe, \"Special Duties of Consuls of the United States During the Civil War.\" Ignacio de Avellar Barboza da Silva to William Seward, 22 December 1864, FO 881\/2011, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : This file contains a huge batch of correspondence on this incident.\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 10\n\n1. Thomas Wilson to William Seward, 14 July 1862, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Bahia.**\n\n2. William Seward to Manoel Garcia da Rosa, 15 February 1868, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence of the U.S. Government, 1835\u20131869, A28, M17, Torre 4 Piso Estante 1, 15, _Archivo Hist\u00f3ricoDiplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n3. Her Majesty's Commissioner to Lord Russell, 18 August 1865, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 75, Number 50.**\n\n4. Clipping, 22 July 1865, [translation]: Correspondence of Legation and Consulates of Portugal in U.S., 1852\u20131867, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n5. **Philadelphia Inquirer,** 13 July 1865. For more on possible Portuguese connections to the Lincoln murder, see e.g. James Harvey, U.S. Minister to Portugal, to William Seward, 1866, in **Message of the President of the United States and Accompanying Documents to the Two Houses of Congress at the Commencement of the Second Session of the Fortieth Congress, Part I, Ex. Doc., No. 1,** Washington, D.C: Government Printing Office, 1868, 686.\n\n6. C. Vann Woodward and Elizabeth Muhlenfeld, eds., **The Private Mary Chesnut: The Unpublished Civil War Diaries,** New York: Oxford University Press, 1984, 244, 15 May 1865.\n\n7. **New York Times,** 30 October 1864.\n\n8. **New York Times,** 22 November 1864.\n\n9. James Bond to U.S. Government, 15 October 1864, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para.**\n\n10. Douglas Audenreid Grier, \"Confederate Emigration to Brazil, 1865\u20131870,\" Ph.D. dissertation, University of Michigan, 1968, 53, 59.\n\n11. Captain Frederick N. Colston, \"Recollections of the Last Months in the Army of Northern Virginia,\" **Southern Historical Society Papers,** 37 (January-December 1910): 1\u201315, 12.\n\n12. Undated Memo, **Edwin James Papers,** _University of South Carolina\u2013Columbia._ See also Frank J. Merli, ed., \"Alternatives to Appomattox: A Virginian's Vision of an Anglo-Confederate Colony on the Amazon, May 1865,\" **The Virginia Magazine of History and Biography,** 94 (Number 2, April 1986): 210\u2013219.\n\n13. Eugene C. Harter, **The Lost Colony of the Confederacy,** Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1985, ix. See undated clipping, Vertical Files: Immigration and Emigration, _Georgia Historical Society\u2013Savannah_ : \"nearly half of the eight or ten thousand Southerners who emigrated to foreign lands after the Civil War went to Brazil.\" See also Alfred Jackson Hanna and Kathryn Abbey Hanna, **Confederate Exiles in Venezuela,** Tuscaloosa: Confederate Publishing Company, 1960, 13: the authors estimate a total emigration globally of about 10,000. See Ibid., Douglas Audenreid Grier, 21, 22: 4000 rebels migrate to Brazil though \"some writers have put the figure as high as ten thousand.\" See undated Memo, **Edwin James Papers** : 4000 Southerners came to Brazil and 60 percent did not stay. See also David P. Werlich, **Admiral of the Amazon: John Randolph Tucker, His Confederate Colleagues and Peru,** Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1990; Margaret Amanda Pattison, **The Emigrant's VadeMecum or Guide to the 'Price Grant' in Venezuelan Guyana,** London: Trubner, 1868; Robert May, **The Southern Dream of a Caribbean Empire, 1854\u20131861,** Baton Rouge: Louisiana State University Press, 1973; John Codman, **Ten Months in Brazil,** Boston: Lee and Shephard, 1867.\n\n14. Letter from Henry Shipley Stevens, 17 December 1865, F2513 S844, _Western Reserve Historical Society\u2013Cleveland._\n\n15. See undated Memorandum, **Edwin James Papers** : The settlements were Hastings at Santarem; Gunter on the Rio Doce; Iguape led by Ballard Dunn; Near Iguape led by Frank McMullen; Gaston's colony in Xiririca; William Norris's colony at Santa Barbara D'oeste.\n\n16. James Monroe, \"Special Duties of Consuls of the United States During the Civil War,\" Box 24, **James Monroe Papers,** _Oberlin College._\n\n17. See [translation]: Letters Received from the Legation and Consulate of Brazil in 1865 from U.S. Nationals after the Civil War, re: Emigration, 1865\u20131866, Washington Oficios, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty\u2013Rio de Janeiro._\n\n18. Manuscript of \"Hunting a Home in Brazil,\" by James Gaston, 55, _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n19. Cyrus B. Dawsey and James M. Dawsey, **The Confederados: Old South Immigrants in Brazil,** Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1995, 174.\n\n20. **New York Herald,** 3 September 1865.\n\n21. Richard Maury to John Perkins, 8 July 1866, Series 1.4, Folder 19, **John Perkins Papers,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n22. Unclear correspondent to John Perkins, 6 June 1866, **John Perkins Papers.**\n\n23. W. Ferguson to Edwin James, June 1984, **Edwin James Papers.**\n\n24. **Yorkville Enquirer,** 2 July 1868, **Edwin James Papers.**\n\n25. George Barnsley to Father, August 1865, **Edwin James Papers.**\n\n26. Ibid., Lawrence Hill, **Diplomatic Relations Between the United States and Brazil,** 251.\n\n27. David W. Blight, **Race and Reunion: The Civil War in American Memory,** Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 2001, 36\u201337.\n\n28. J. D. Porter to Charles Nathan, 14 October 1867, **J. D. Porter Letters,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n29. J. McF. Gaston, **Hunting a Home in Brazil,** Philadelphia: King & Baird, 1867, 227.\n\n30. **New York Times,** 25 December 1865.\n\n31. Lawrence F. Hill, \"The Confederate Exodus to Brazil,\" F2569, A5, H66 (\"verbatim reprint from the October 1935\/January\u2013April 1936 issues of the **Southwestern Historical Quarterly** \"), _Library of Virginia\u2013Richmond._ See e.g. **Edgefield Advertiser,** 2 May 1866, re: Report on trip to Brazil by delegation of \"Southern Colonization Society.\"\n\n32. Ibid., Douglas Audenreid Grier, 67, 68, 69.\n\n33. **New York Times,** 16 December 1866.\n\n34. Edward Thornton to Earl Russell, 2 November 1865, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 75, Number 50.**\n\n35. Blanche Henry Clark Weaver, \"Confederate Immigrants and Evangelical Churches in Brazil,\" **Journal of Southern History,** 18 (Number 4, November 1952): 446\u2013468; Blanche Henry Clark Weaver, \"Confederate Emigration in Brazil, **Journal of Southern History,** 27 (Number 1, February 1961): 33\u201353, 50: \"Difficulties would arise\" for Confederates, which were \"accentuated by the fact that many law enforcement officers were of African descent.\"\n\n36. Ibid., Eugene C. Harter, 53\u201354.\n\n37. Letter from James Bond, 4 June 1868, Record Group 59, Roll 2, **Despatches from U.S. Consuls in Para.**\n\n38. Herbert H. Smith, **Brazil: The Amazons and the Coast,** New York: Scribner's, 1879, 468.\n\n39. **Yorkville Enquirer,** 23 August 1867, **Edwin James Papers.**\n\n40. **New York Times,** 22 February 1867.\n\n41. John Codman, **Ten Months inBrazil: With Notes on the Paraguayan War,** New York: John Miller, 1872, 79, 132.\n\n42. J. D. Porter to \"My Dear Cousin,\" 5 July 1867, MSS 2P8342a1, **J. D. Porter Papers,** _Virginia Historical Society\u2013Richmond._ This focus on Africans in South America also arose in Venezuela. See Ibid., Alfred Jackson Hanna and Kathryn Abbey Hanna, **Confederate Exiles in Venezuela,** 58, 75. See William B. Hessletine and Hazel C. Wolf, **The Blue and Gray on the Nile,** Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1961, 62, 103, 132.\n\n43. Alfredo Cordiviola, **Richard Burton, a Traveler in Brazil, 1865\u20131868,** Lewiston, Maine: Mellen, 2001, 80.\n\n44. Whitaker to F. O. Adams, 11 November 1874, Box 2, **Adams (Israel L. and Family) Papers,** _Louisiana State University\u2013Baton Rouge._\n\n45. Dr. Henry Price to Lafayette McLaws, 20 April 1866, Folder 18, **Lafayette McLaws Papers,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._ At the same site, see also Folder 204: \"Latin American Projects,\" **Duff Green Papers.**\n\n46. Edward Thornton to Earl of Clarendon, 6 December 1865, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 75, Number 50.**\n\n47. Robert Brent Toplin, **The Abolition of Slavery in Brazil,** New York: Atheneum, 1972, 119.\n\n48. Ibid., Robert Edgar Conrad, ed., **Children of God's Fire: A Documentary History of Black Slavery in Brazil,** 417.\n\n49. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 24 January 1866.\n\n50. Charles Sumner to Louis Agassiz, 30 March 1865, in Beverly Wilson Palmer, **The Selected Letters of Charles Sumner, Volume 2,** Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1990, 275\u2013276.\n\n51. Charles Sumner to Francis Lieber, 24 December 1869 in Ibid., Beverly Wilson Palmer, 497\u2013498.\n\n52. Letter from Henry Shipley Stevens, 30 January 1866, _Western Reserve Historical Society._\n\n53. \"Confidential memorandum,\" circa 1865, Washington, Oficios, 1865, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty\u2013Rio de Janeiro._ See also Henry M. Price to Sir Frederick Bruce, 24 May 1865, FO 5\/1019, _Public Records Office\u2013Kew Gardens_ : This rebel asked London to sponsor a Confederate colony in Brazil as a spearhead against the U.S. (later he organized a colony in Venezuela). Frank J. Merli, **Great Britain and the Confederate Navy, 1861\u20131865,** Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1970.\n\n54. Gary Gallagher, ed., **Fighting for the Confederacy: The Personal Recollections of General Edward Porter Alexander,** Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1989, 547\u2013548.\n\n55. Undated Memorandum, **Edwin James Papers.**\n\n56. George Barnsley to Father, August 1865, **Edwin James Papers.**\n\n57. Matthew Fontaine Maury to \"Corbin,\" 18 May 1861, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Virginia Military Institute\u2013Lexington._\n\n58. Ibid., Lawrence Hill, **Diplomatic Relations Between the United States and Brazil,** 254.\n\n59. **New York Times,** 15 January 1868.\n\n60. Ibid., Manuscript by James Gaston, \"Hunting a Home in Brazil,\" 55.\n\n61. **New York Times,** 10 December 1865.\n\n62. **New York Times,** 3 December 1865.\n\n63. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 7 September 1865.\n\n64. William Van Vleck Lidgerwood to William Seward, 1867, in **Papers Relating to Foreign Affairs, Accompanying the Annual Message of the President to the Second Session, Thirty-Ninth Congress, Part II,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1867, 300.\n\n65. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 9 October 1865.\n\n66. **New York Herald,** 22 February 1866.\n\n67. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 4 November 1865.\n\n68. **New York Times,** 26 February 1866.\n\n69. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 24 November 1865.\n\n70. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 24 December 1865.\n\n71. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 23 June 1866.\n\n72. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 7 February 1867.\n\n73. Ibid., John Codman, **Ten Months in Brazil,** 79, 131\u2013132, 187, 189, 195\u2013196.\n\n74. Matthew Fontaine Maury to \"My Dear Corbin,\"22 October 1860, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n75. Matthew Fontaine Maury to \"Corbin,\" 18 May 1861, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n76. Hon. John Bell on \"Lieut. M. F. Maury[,] Speech . . . Delivered in the Senate of the United States, April 28 and 29, 1856.\" \"Congressional Globe, 1856,\" GC M45 B4.\n\n77. \"Captain Maury's Letter on American Affairs,\" August 1861, _American Antiquarian Society._\n\n78. Matthew Maury to Editor, 'London Times,' 22 December 1862, Scrapbook, **Richard Maury Papers,** _Duke University._\n\n79. Matthew Maury to Corbin, 1 May 1863, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n80. Richard Maury, **A Brief Sketch of Matthew Fontaine Maury During the War, 1861\u20131865,** Richmond: Whittet & Shep-person, 1915, 30.\n\n81. Matthew Maury to \"My Dear Nannie,\" 7 July 1863, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n82. Matthew Fontaine Maury to Captain de la Marche, Paris, 15 March 1862, Box 15, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n83. Ferdinand Maxmilian to Matthew Maury, 4 September 1863, Box 18, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n84. Matthew Maury to the Archduke, 9 October 1863, Box 18, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n85. The Archduke to Matthew Maury, 24 October 1863, Box 18, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n86. Matthew Maury to the Archduke, 10 November 1863, Box 19, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n87. Matthew Maury to the Archduke, 22 December 1863, Box 19, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n88. J. M. Maury to Matthew Maury, 12 April 1865, Box 1, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Duke University._\n\n89. Letter from Matthew Fontaine Maury, 19 May 1865, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n90. Russian Minister to Matthew Fontaine Maury, 25 June 1860, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n91. Russian Grand Duke to Matthew Maury, 8 August 1861, Box 14, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Library of Congress._\n\n92. Letter from Matthew Fontaine Maury, 5 September 1865, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._ See, Ibid., David W. Blight, **Race and Reunion,** 78. See also \"Decrees for the Encouragement of Immigration and Colonization. Office of Colonization. Mexico. November 1865.\" Series 1.4, Folder 16, **John Perkins Papers,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n93. Matthew Maury to Corbin, 31 October 1865, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n94. Matthew Maury to \"My Dear Wife,\"27 November 1865, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n95. Matthew Maury to \"My Dear Sweet Brave Nannie,\" 7 December 1865, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n96. Undated Letter from Richard Maury, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n97. Matthew Maury to \"My Dear Children,\" 1 March 1866, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n98. Matthew Maury to \"Corbin,\"21 May 1866, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n99. Matthew Maury to \"Corbin,\" 19 May 1867, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n100. Richard Maury to John Perkins, 8 July 1866, Series 1.4, Folder 19, **John Perkins Papers.**\n\n101. Matthew Maury to Corbin, 29 January 1868, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _VMI._\n\n102. Matthew Fontaine Maury to Dear Ruston, 7 September 1870, Box 1, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Duke University._\n\n103. Richard Maury to Matthew Maury, 9 September 1870, Box 1, **Matthew Fontaine Maury Papers,** _Duke University._\n\n104. Ibid., Richard Maury, **A Brief Sketch of Matthew Fontaine Maury,** 30.\n\n105. F. H. Farrar to John Perkins, 21 September 1866, Series 1.4, Folder 19, **John Perkins Papers.**\n\nNOTES TO CHAPTER 11\n\n1. William Clark Griggs, **The Elusive Eden: Frank McMullan's Confederate Colony in Brazil,** Austin: University of Texas Press, 1987, 127.\n\n2. Bell Wiley, \"Confederate War Exiles in Brazil,\" **Civil War Times Illustrated,** 15 (Number 9, January 1977): 22\u201332, 27, 30. See also Ibid., Eugene C. Harter, **The Lost Colony of the Confederacy,** 54.\n\n3. Ibid., Cyrus B. Dawsey and James M. Dawsey, **The Confederados,** 174.\n\n4. \"Additional Convention Between the United States and Great Britain,\" on the Slave Trade, \"Concluded June 3, 1870,\" Record Group 48, Roll 3, **Records of the Department of Interior.**\n\n5. See e.g. Ibid., Najia Aarim-Heriot, **Chinese Immigrants, African Americans and Racial Anxiety in the United States, 1848\u20131882.** See also \"Lista Dos Navios Americans\" with \"bandeira Portugeza\" carrying hundreds of \"coolies,\" 20 February 1864, \"[translation]: Correspondence of the Mixed Commission at the Cape of Good Hope, _Archivo Hist\u00f3ricoDiplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._\n\n6. W. C. Knight, Acting Consul Cape Town, to Chevalier Duprat, 18 January 1864, [translation]: Consul of Portugal, Cape of Good Hope, 1846\u20131876, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._ In the same file see also Thomas Watson to Chevalier Duprat, 8 April 1864. See also George Frere and E. L. Layard, Cape Town, to Earl Russell, 26 January 1864, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 66, Number 49** : \"two large vessels have touched conveying coolies from Hong Kong . . . American vessels [with] Portuguese flag and papers.\"\n\n7. David Birmingham, **Portugal and Africa,** Athens: Ohio University Press, 1999, 18.\n\n8. From \"Ordnance Office War Department\" of U.S. to A. da Cunha, Charges d'Affaires of Portugal in U.S., 10 March 1871, [translation]: Legation of Portugal in Washington, Correspondence Received from Various Authorities and American Establishments, 1837\u20131888, Torre, 4 Piso, Estante 1, 17, A38, M19, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico-Diplom\u00e1tico, Minist\u00e9rio dos Negocios Estrangeiros\u2013Lisbon._ In same file, see also E. G. Wines, U.S. Commissioner to A. da Cunha, 22 May 1871, re: invitation to \"International Penitentiary Congress.\"\n\n9. See e.g. U.S. Congress. House. Committee on Government Reform. Subcommittee on Human Rights and Wellness. **The Ongoing Tragedy of International Slavery and Human Trafficking: An Overview: Hearing Before the Subcommittee on Human Rights and Wellness of the Committee on Government Reform,** 108th Congress, 1st Session. October 29, 2003. Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 2004; Christian van den Anker, ed., **The Political Economy of New Slavery,** New York: Palgrave, 2004. Anna M. Troubnikoff, ed., **Trafficking in Women and Children: Current Issues and Developments,** Hauppauge, New York: Nova Science Publishers, 2003.\n\n10. Main Catalogue File, Description of \"Godfrey Barnsley Papers,\" _Duke University._\n\n11. C. Berrien to Godfrey Barnsley, 22 February 1867, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers,** _Duke University._\n\n12. George Barnsley to \"Dear Father,\" 23 May 1867, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.**\n\n13. F. H. Farrar to John Perkins, 21 September 1866, Series 1.4, Folder 16, **John Perkins Papers.**\n\n14. J. D. Porter to Charles Nathan, 30 August 1867, 892-z, Folder 1, **J. D. Porter Papers,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._ For more on the rebel migration to South America, see **Missouri Republican,** 17 June 1867; **The Daily Picayune,** 19 May and 9 June 1867; **Charleston Mercury,** 17 September 1867; **New Orleans Times,** 1 December and 8 December 1867.\n\n15. J. D. Porter to Charles Nathan, 29 November 1867, 892-z, Folder 1, **J. D. Porter Papers.**\n\n16. \"Biography of James McFadden Gaston,\" no date, 1469-(B)-z, Folder 1, _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n17. J. Marshall McCue to Cyrus H. McCormick, 11 April 1857, 454-z, **J. Marshall McCue Letters,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n18. Cyrus H. McCormick to J. Marshall McCue, 22 June 1867, **J. Marshall McCue Letters.**\n\n19. J. Marshall McCue to Cyrus H. McCormick, 22 June 1867, **J. Marshall McCue Letters.**\n\n20. Lucita Hardie Wait, \"Memories of a Childhood Spent in Brazil,\" 1937, M1879, Reel 1, **Hardie Family Papers,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n21. **Columbia** [Ga.] **Sun and Times,** 5 February 1867.\n\n22. **New York Times,** 15 August 1867; **Montgomery Advertiser,** 10 August 1867.\n\n23. **New York Times,** 28 March 1867.\n\n24. George Barnsley to \"Father,\" 14 June 1867, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.**\n\n25. George Barnsley to Father, 23 April 1868, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.**\n\n26. George Barnsley to Father, 17 February 1872, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.**\n\n27. \"Our Life in Brazil,\" circa 1867, 1672-z, Folder 1, **Julia Louisa Hentz Keyes Papers,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n28. J. D. Porter to unnamed correspondent, undated, 892-z, Folder 1, **J. D. Porter Papers.**\n\n29. Joseph Weed to \"Dear Sarah,\" 5 August 1874, 2109-z, Folder 1, **Joseph W. Weed Letters,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n30. Robert S. Merriwether to \"My Dear Brother,\" circa 1872 and Affadavit, 14 September 1872, MSS 1 D 1124a 1-42, **Dabney Family Papers,** _Virginia Historical Society._ See also Betty Antunes de Oliveira, \"North American Immigration to Brazil: Tombstone Records of the 'Campo' Cemetery; Santa Barbara D'Oeste-Sao Paulo State-Brazil, 1978,\" F2513 O4, _Virginia Historical Society._\n\n31. Carolyn Smith Ward, **An American Brazilian Odyssey,** Charlotte: CSW, 1979, 35.\n\n32. Ibid., Gary Gallagher, ed., **Fighting for the Confederacy,** 530\u2013531. See also E. L. Jeffers, \"Brazil's American Confederates: 'Once a Rebel, Twice a Rebel, Always a Rebel,'\" **Virginia Country,** July-August 1986, 53\u201355, _Virginia Historical Society._\n\n33. Thomas L. Whigham, **The Paraguayan War: Causes and Early Conflict, Volume 1,** Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 2002, iv.\n\n34. Vitor Izecksohn, \"War, Reform and State-Building in Brazil and in the United States: Slavery, Emancipation and Decision-Making Processes in the Paraguayan and Civil Wars (1861\u20131870),\" Ph.D. dissertation, University of New Hampshire, 2001, 181, 335, 336. See also **Savannah** **Daily Morning News,** 21 November 1868: The President of Paraguay charges the U.S. Minister to Paraguay with being part of a conspiracy to assassinate him, joined by that nation's Foreign Minister. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 29 October 1869: U.S. Minister to Paraguay says he is evacuating Asuncion as Brazilian troops plunder this capital, destroying and looting and ransacking archives. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 29 November 1870: \"Americans are said to have fought with Brazil against Paraguay. . . . one historian notes, however, that the Brazilian army court-martialed and shot two American boys for signing on as mercenaries with Paraguay.\"\n\n35. **New York Times,** 25 November 1866.\n\n36. Clipping, no date, Washington, Oficios, 1865, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty._\n\n37. Reverend Ballard S. Dunn, **Brazil, the Home for Southerners,** New York: George B. Richardson, 1866, 40.\n\n38. John A. Salmond, **The Conscience of a Lawyer: Clifford J. Durr and American Civil Liberties, 1899\u20131975,** Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 1990, 2.\n\n39. Dispatch from Ignacio Barboza da Silva, 22 May 1865, Washington, Oficios, 1865, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty._\n\n40. \"Letter from the Provincial President of Para to the Minister of Justice,\" 8 July 1865, in Robert Edgar Conrad, ed., **Children of God's Fire.**\n\n41. Ibid., **Children of God's Fire,** 232.\n\n42. Henry Thayer Mahoney and Marjorie Locke Mahoney, **Mexico and the Confederacy, 1860\u20131867,** San Francisco: Austin & Winfield, 1998, 101.\n\n43. Ibid., Reverend Ballard S. Dunn, 19.\n\n44. Minister of Agriculture to General Wood, no date, in Ibid., **British Parliamentary Papers: Correspondence Relative to the Slave Trade, Volume 75, Number 50.**\n\n45. **New York Times,** 25 July 1867.\n\n46. Diary of James M. Gaston, 29 November 1865, 1470, Box 2, Folder 18, **James M. Gaston Papers,** _University of North Carolina\u2013Chapel Hill._\n\n47. Ibid., \"Biography of James McFadden Gaston.\" But see Ibid., J. McF. Gaston, **Hunting a Home in Brazil,** 123: \"extractions from the Negro are greater, and the provision for his subsistence and comfort less than was experienced formerly in the United States.\"\n\n48. Ibid., Gaston, **Hunting a Home in Brazil,** 228.\n\n49. Ibid., Julia Louisa Hentz Keyes, \"Our Life in Brazil.\"\n\n50. \"The Last Confederates Live in Brazil,\" 1991, **Edwin James Papers,** _University of South Carolina\u2013Columbia._\n\n51. Ibid., Gaston, **Hunting a Home in Brazil,** 134.\n\n52. **Chester Reporter,** 6 May 1906, **Edwin James Papers.**\n\n53. Ibid., Julia Louisa Hentz Keyes, \"Our Life in Brazil.\"\n\n54. Undated Memorandum, **Edwin James Papers.**\n\n55. Ibid., Lucie Hardie Wait, \"Memories of a Childhood Spent in Brazil.\"\n\n56. Ibid., Bridgett M. Williams, \"James Monroe: Consul to Rio, 1863\u20131869,\" 90.\n\n57. Ibid., Gaston, **Hunting a Home in Brazil,** 55.\n\n58. Ibid., Joseph W. Weed to \"Dear Sarah,\" 5 August 1874, **Joseph W. Weed Letters.**\n\n59. Ibid., Diary of James M. Gaston, 29 November 1865, **James M. Gaston Papers.**\n\n60. Ibid., Joseph W. Weed to \"Dear Sarah,\" 5 August 1874, **Joseph W. Weed Letters.**\n\n61. Louis and Elizabeth Agassiz, **A Journey in Brazil,** New York: Praeger, 1969, 128\u2013129.\n\n62. Ibid., Julia Louisa Hentz Keyes, \"Our Life in Brazil.\"\n\n63. Ibid., \"Biography of James McFadden Gaston.\"\n\n64. **New York Times,** 15 August 1867.\n\n65. J. D. Porter to Charles Nathan, 29 November 1867, Folder 1, **J. D. Porter Letters.**\n\n66. O. Whitaker to Frank Adams, 12 June 1876, Box 2, **Adams (Israel L. and Family) Papers,** _Louisiana State University\u2013Baton Rouge._\n\n67. Ibid., Gaston, **Hunting a Home in Brazil,** 52.\n\n68. **New York Times,** 15 August 1867.\n\n69. **New York Times,** 25 February 1870.\n\n70. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 2 July 1866.\n\n71. Memo from A. Foster Elliott, 5 May 1866, Washington, Oficios, 1865, _Archivo Hist\u00f3rico do Itamaraty._\n\n72. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 23 April 1867.\n\n73. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 7 August 1868.\n\n74. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 8 May 1867.\n\n75. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 26 April 1867.\n\n76. Henry Sanford to U.S. Grant, 18 February [year unclear], in John Y. Simon, ed., **The Papers of Ulysses S. Grant, Volume 24, 1873,** Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2000, 375\u2013376.\n\n77. **New York Times,** 19 April 1876.\n\n78. James Watson Webb to William Seward, 3 May 1867, in **Message to the President of the United States and Accompanying Documents to the Two Houses of Congress at the Commencement of the Second Session of the Fortieth Congress, Part II,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1868, 251\u2013253\n\n79. **New York Times,** 14 July 1877.\n\n80. **New York Times,** 21 May 1871.\n\n81. George Barnsley to Editor, **New Orleans Times,** 20 August 1871, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.**\n\n82. George Barnsley to Father, 20 August 1871, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.**\n\n83. George Barnsley to Father, 17 February 1872, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.** Barnsley's complaints were not atypical and thus are worthy of quotation at length: See e.g. George Barnsley to Father, 30 October 1870, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.**\n\n84. George Barnsley to Father, 9 March 1868, Box 5, **Godfrey Barnsley Papers.**\n\n85. James R. Partridge to Hamilton Fish, 8 September 1871, in **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States, Transmitted to Congress with the Annual Message to the President, December 4, 1871,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1871, 64.\n\n86. James R. Partridge to Hamilton Fish, 2 December 1872, in **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States, Transmitted to Congress with the Annual Message of the President, December 2, 1872,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1873, 90. See also James Partridge to Hamilton Fish, 22 January 1872, in John Y. Simon, ed., **The Papers of Ulysses S. Grant, Volume 22: June 1, 1871\u2013January 31, 1872,** Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 1998, 333.\n\n87. Report from Henry T. Blow, 5 November 1870, in Ibid., **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States . . . 1871,** 43.\n\n88. **Savannah Daily Morning News,** 21 November 1868.\n\n89. **New York Times,** 31 December 1875.\n\nNOTES TO THE EPILOGUE\n\n1. Ibid., Eugene C. Harter, **The Lost Colony of the Confederacy,** 55.\n\n2. Ibid., Robert Brent Toplin, **The Abolition of Slavery in Brazil,** 212\u2013213. See also **Rio News,** 24 February 1888; **Jornal do Recife,** 21 February 1888; **Revista Illustrada,** 17 March 1888. See also **New York Times,** 16 April 1876.\n\n3. Ibid., John Codman, **Ten Months in Brazil,** 75.\n\n4. Isaac Myers, et al. to President Grant, April 1869, in **The Papers of Ulysses S. Grant, Volume 19,** 1995.\n\n5. **New York Times,** 4 December 1877.\n\n6. **New York Times,** 5 August 1877.\n\n7. **New York Times,** 6 August 1877.\n\n8. **New York Times,** 20 December 1880.\n\n9. Thomas J. Jarvis to John D. Whitford, 22 September 1885, 89.2, **John D.Whitford Papers,** _North Carolina State Archives._\n\n10. Thomas J. Jarvis to John D. Whitford, 3 August 1888, 89.2, **John D. Whit-ford Papers.**\n\n11. Thomas J. Jarvis to William L. Saunders, 27.1, **William Laurence Saunders Papers,** _North Carolina State Archives._\n\n12. John C. White to Mr. Evarts, 1879, in **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States, Transmitted to Congress, with the Annual Message of the President, December 1, 1879,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1879, 133\u2013134.\n\n13. Henry Hilliard to Mr. Evarts, 4 September 1879, in **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States, Transmitted to Congress, with the Annual Message of the President, December 6, 1880,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1880, 86.\n\n14. **New York Times,** 3 July 1878.\n\n15. **New York Times,** 31 May 1878.\n\n16. **New York Times,** 31 December 1877.\n\n17. **New York Times,** 16 April 1878.\n\n18. **Anglo-Brazilian Times,** 8 March 1878.\n\n19. **New York Times,** 6 May 1878.\n\n20. **New York Times,** 15 June 1886.\n\n21. **New York Times,** 25 January 1888.\n\n22. Letter from Stephen W. Hill to T. F. Bayard, 31 January 1888, in **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States, Transmitted to Congress, with the Annual Message of the President, December 3, 1888,** Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1889, 58.\n\n23. **Rio Daily News,** 5 March 1888, in Ibid., **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States . . . 1888,** 59.\n\n24. **Rio Daily News,** 24 March 1888, in Ibid., **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States . . . 1888,** 62.\n\n25. **Revista do Brasil,** 15 December 1907.\n\n26. **New York World,** 1 December 1907.\n\n27. Report from U.S. Vice Consul in Bahia, 1 December 1907, Box 12, **Richard Harding Davis Papers,** _University of Virginia\u2013Charlottesville._\n\n28. Department of State to Richard Harding Davis, 19 March 1908, Box 12, **Richard Harding Davis Papers.**\n\n29. **Baltimore Sun,** 25 October 1972.\n\n30. **Christian Science Monitor,** 3 June 1977.\n\n31. **New York Times,** 22 April 1972.\n\n32. **New York Times,** 3 November 1985.\n\n33. Interview with Elizabeth McAlpine MacKnight, 20 May 1978, Box 1, Folder 2, _Americana (Brazil) Oral History Project Collection\u2013Emory University._\n\n34. Sheila S. Walker, \"Africanity vs. Blackness: Race, Class and Culture in Brazil,\" **NACLA Report on the Americas,** 35 (Number 6, May\/June 2002): 16\u201320, 17, 19.\n\n35. Thomas J. Jarvis to T. F. Bayard, 14 May 1888, in Ibid., **Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States . . . 1888,** 72.\n\n36. **New York Times,** 4 July 1888.\n\n37. **Der Spiegel,** 19 May 2002.\n\n38. **Estado de S\u00e3o Paulo,** 28 April 2002; Fernando Henrique Cardoso, **The Accidental President of Brazil: A Memoir,** New York: Public Affairs, 2006, 257.\n\n39. **Los Angeles Times,** 23 June 2005.\n\n40. **New York Amsterdam News,** 22 December 2005.\n\n41. Louis Harlan, ed., **The Booker T. Washington Papers, 1860\u20131889, Volume 2,** Champaign-Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1972, 237.\n\n42. David J. Hellwig, **African-American Reflections on Brazil's Racial Paradise,** Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1992.\n\n43. Eugene Robinson, **Coal to Cream: A Black Man's Journey Beyond Color to an Affirmation of Race,** New York: Free Press, 1999, 184, 31\u201332, 145.\n\n44. **Guardian** [London], 30 December 2005.\n\n## **Index**\n\nAbbot, Joel,\n\nAbbott, George, \u2013144\n\nAbolitionism: anti-abolitionist riot in New York City (1834), \u2013173\n\nBaquaqua and,\n\nin Brazil, \u201313, , , , , , \u2013245,\n\nBrazil's impact on Americans' attitude toward,\n\nCalifornia Gold Rush's impact on, , \u201388, \u201398\n\nin Great Britain, , ,\n\nin Haiti,\n\nhostility toward,\n\nin New York,\n\nSpain and, ,\n\nin Texas, n74\n\nWebb and, \u2013173\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) on,\n\nAbranches, Almeida and Co.,\n\nD'Abrantes, Marquis,\n\nAckerman, J. L.,\n\nAdams, John H.,\n\nAdams, John Quincy: on African Slave Trade, \u201321\n\nBrazilian slave trade, \u201328\n\non Portugal,\n\nRay and,\n\non search\/seizure of U.S.-flagged ships,\n\nsupport for Latin American independence,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and,\n\nAdams, Samuel,\n\nAdamson, Thomas,\n\nAfrica: decline in proportion of world's population,\n\nnearness to Brazil, , \u201334\n\nU.S. trade with, . _See also_ East Africa; West Africa\n\nAfrican Americans: emigration to Argentina,\n\nemigration to Brazil, \u2013250\n\nAfrican Labor Supply Association,\n\nAfrican Methodist Episcopal (AME) Church, ,\n\nAfrican Slave Trade, \u2013149\n\nAdams (John Quincy) on, \u201321\n\nAmerican involvement in, , , , , \u201334, \u201365, \u2013138, , \u2013163, ,\n\nAmerican Negroes involved in, \u201342\n\naverage number of slaves taken per year,\n\nbackers of, __\n\nbranding of slaves,\n\nBrazil in, \u201334\n\ncalls to reopen, \u2013134, ,\n\nchief site of,\n\nCivil War, influence on, \u2013171\n\nCivil War's ending,\n\nConfederate States of America (CSA), ,\n\ndecline in Africa's proportion of the world's population,\n\ndeportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin as a substitute for,\n\ndiplomacy in the Western hemisphere, , \u2013158\n\nexternal forces' effects on, , \u2013158\n\nfederal laws prohibiting U.S. citizens from participating in, , , , , , , n48\n\nfree trade,\n\nillicit trade in late 1850s, \u2013149,\n\nJefferson and,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and, ,\n\nnorthward movement of, \u2013147,\n\nnumber of Africans shipped to Brazil, \u20133, , \u201354,\n\nnumber of Africans shipped to the New World, , n3, n34\n\nofficial closure of,\n\nopenness of,\n\nparticipation by Confederate expatriates in Brazil,\n\npeak period, \u20133,\n\nPortugal and, ,\n\nprice of slaves in Africa, , \u2013131\n\nprofitability of, , , , , , , n7\n\nprosecutions under slave trade acts,\n\nprovision of ships for, , , , , , , n34\n\nRoyal Navy's effect on, \u201364\n\nrunaways, \u201346\n\nin 1840s,\n\nsecessionists and, , ,\n\nswitching flags, \u201337, , , , n27\n\nThirteenth Amendment, \u201313\n\nas a transnational business,\n\ntwin towers of,\n\nviolence in West Africa,\n\nwaxing and waning of,\n\nbetween West Africa and South America,\n\nwhalers' role, \u201310, \u201337, \u201348,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and,\n\nZanzibar in,\n\nAfrican Society (London),\n\nAfrican Squadron (U.S. Navy's Anti-Slavery Squadron), \u2013142\n\navoidance of Cabinda,\n\nbase,\n\nchaplain to,\n\nConrad on,\n\nCSA privateers, , \u2013196\n\nCummings and,\n\nDavis (Jefferson) and,\n\nDouglass on,\n\nin East Africa, n116\n\neffectiveness, , , \u2013141,\n\nLawrence and,\n\npurpose,\n\nsize, ,\n\nslavers captured by,\n\nWebster-Ashburton Treaty of 1842,\n\nin West Africa, n116\n\nAgassiz, Elizabeth,\n\nAgassiz, Louis, ,\n\n\"Agnes\" (American ship), , ,\n\nAguiar, Luis Henrique Ferreira,\n\n\"Alabama\" (Confederate ship): in Bahia,\n\ncapture of the \"Tuscaloosa,\"\n\nflying Portuguese flag to avoid capture by,\n\nowner,\n\nAlexander, Edward Porter, , \u2013229\n\nAmazon River: free navigation of, , . _See also_ Deportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin\n\nAME (African Methodist Episcopal) Church, ,\n\n\"Amelia\" (American ship),\n\nAmerican Anti-Slavery Society,\n\nAmerican Colonization Society, n36\n\nThe Americas, slave population of,\n\nAmory, Thomas,\n\n**Anglo-Brazilian Times** (newspaper),\n\nAnglo-Spanish treaty (1835),\n\nAngola: Cummings in, \u201350\n\nCummings on,\n\nLuanda ( _see_ Luanda, Angola); slave trading in, , , , , , \u2013146, , , n52\n\nwealth\/prosperity in,\n\nAngolans: in Brazil,\n\nin Virginia,\n\nArgentina: Buenos Aires (once Buenos Ayres), , n74\n\nemigration of Blacks to,\n\nArnold, Benedict,\n\n\"Atilla\" (American slaver), n78\n\n\"Atlantic\" (American ship),\n\n\"Aunt Sylvy\" (a slave),\n\nAzores, slave trading in, \u2013145\n\nBahia, Brazil: burning of American ships in,\n\nillicit slave trade,\n\nSemmes's \"Alabama\" in,\n\nslave revolt in, \u201312,\n\n\"strict neutrality\" in,\n\nBailey, Adams, Jr.,\n\nBaltimore, privateers from,\n\nBanks, J. H., ,\n\nBaptista, Augusto Lopes, n57\n\nBaquaqua, Mahommah Gardo,\n\nBarnsley, George, expatriation to Brazil, , \u2013209, \u2013224, \u2013227\n\nBarnsley, Godfrey, , \u2013241\n\nBates, Edward,\n\nBeauregard, Pierre Gustave Toutant,\n\nBeckett, Henry, ,\n\nBeeckman, John H, ,\n\nBenjamin, Judah,\n\nBennett, James,\n\nBennett, Lerone, \u2013174\n\nBennett, Thomas,\n\nBento (a Brazilian slave),\n\nBetts, Samuel Rossiter,\n\nBlack, Jeremiah,\n\nBlair, Francis, Jr.,\n\nBlair, Montgomery,\n\nBlanco, Pedro,\n\nBlandy, A. A., \u2013200\n\nBlue, J. H.,\n\nBlumberg, Rhoda,\n\n\"Bonito\" (American slaver),\n\nBowen, William,\n\nBrackenridge, H. M.,\n\nBradbury, Captain,\n\nBradley, Henry, \u201326\n\nBrazil: abolitionism in, \u201313, , , , , , \u2013245,\n\nin African Slave Trade, \u201334\n\n\"Africanization\" of, ,\n\nalliance\/relations with the South, \u20132, , , , ,\n\nalliance with the United States, ,\n\nAmazon River, free navigation of, , 122 ( _see also_ Deportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin); American business interests in, \u2013110\n\nAmerican legation in,\n\nAmericans' attitudes toward Brazil, \u201328, \u2013105\n\nAngolans in,\n\nappointment of Southerners as Minister to Brazil, \u2013160, \u2013247\n\narmy\/police in, \u201393,\n\narrest\/imprisonment of American slavers,\n\nBahia ( _see_ Bahia, Brazil); black population of, ,\n\nCalhoun (John C.) on, ,\n\nCape S\u00e3o Roque,\n\nCatholicism in, \u2013103\n\nCivil War's effect on, , , \u2013230, n81\n\nclimate, , , , ,\n\ncoffee production, , , , n2\n\nConfederate expatriates in ( _see_ Confederate expatriates in Brazil); Confederate States of America (CSA) and, , , , \u2013197\n\nconfrontations between U.S. nations and Brazilians, \u201394\n\ncotton growing, , \u2013188, , n6\n\ndemise of the Confederate States of America,\n\ndemographic makeup of,\n\nDouglass on, , \u2013104,\n\nDutch in, ,\n\neconomic growth, \u201326\n\neducation in,\n\nelephantiasis in,\n\nemigration of Blacks to Brazil, \u2013250\n\nfear of foreign invasion,\n\nfear of slave revolts in, , \u201330,\n\nfears of American expansionism, , , \u2013119, \u2013123\n\nfilibustering by U.S. nationals,\n\nas a firewall protecting U.S. slavery,\n\nForeign Ministry,\n\nfree Blacks in, , , ,\n\nHilliard and, \u2013247\n\nindependence, \u201323\n\nlabor needs during American Civil War,\n\nLusophone culture of, ,\n\n\"Male revolt\" (1835), ,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) on, ,\n\nMeade (Richard Kidder,, Sr.) in,\n\nmechanics in,\n\nmiscegenation\/\"amalgamation\" in, , , ,\n\nmortality of foreigners in,\n\nnearness to Africa, , \u201334\n\nNew Yorkers in, \u2013205\n\nPara, , , \u2013200\n\nPernambuco ( _see_ Pernambuco, Brazil); plans for American seizure of its territory, , ,\n\nPortuguese in,\n\nprivateers in Brazilian waters,\n\nprofessionals in,\n\n\"race rules\" in, \u201395\n\nas \"racial\" horror and paradise, \u201314,\n\nracial prejudice, absence of, , \u2013104, \u2013161, , \u2013231, , n61\n\nRecife ( _see_ Pernambuco, Brazil); relations with Great Britain, , , \u201351, , ,\n\nrelations with Peru, \u2013123\n\nrelations with United States, \u201329, \u201377, \u201384, , , , \u2013209, \u2013237, \u2013247\n\nrelations with Uruguay, , \u2013229\n\nas a safety valve, ,\n\nS\u00e3o Paulo, \u2013212, ,\n\nsearch\/seizure of its ships by Royal Navy,\n\nSemmes and,\n\nskilled craftsmen in,\n\nslave population of, , , , n76\n\nslave revolts in, \u201312, , \u201382,\n\nslave trading ( _see_ Brazilian slave trade; Slave trading by Brazilian nationals); slave-holders in,\n\nslavery in ( _see_ Slavery in Brazil); slaves in ( _see_ Slaves in Brazil); Southern nationalists,\n\nto Southern secessionists, , ,\n\nSoutherners in,\n\n\"um pen a cozinha\" in,\n\nto U.S. Negroes, \u2013125\n\nWebb and, , , ,\n\nwhites in, , , ,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) in, , , \u201371, , \u201379\n\nwomen in, \u2013102\n\nWright (William) in, , , \u201380,\n\nyellow fever in, ,\n\nBrazil Squadron (U.S. Navy), \u201350,\n\nBrazilian slave trade: by 1856,\n\nAmerican involvement in, , , \u201358, \u201363, \u201373\n\nCalifornia Gold Rush, \u201314\n\nCivil War's effect on, , , n81\n\ncredit system supporting,\n\ndecline of, n2\n\nearly th century,\n\neffect on Brazilian agriculture,\n\nEuropeans in, \u201365\n\nheadquarters of,\n\nlast introduction of slaves, n2\n\nMozambique in,\n\nin New York,\n\nNortheastern merchants in,\n\nnumber of Africans shipped to Brazil, \u20133, , \u201354,\n\npeak period, \u201336, , , \u2013131, n9\n\nprofitability of, \u20134, , \u201376, n13\n\nin 1830s, \u201324\n\nin 1850s,\n\nthrowing slaves overboard to escape importation tax, ,\n\nU.S. nationals in, , ,\n\nusual course of, n13\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) on, \u201365, \u201369, \u201374\n\nBrazilians: Americans' view of, , ,\n\nCatholicism of, \u2013103\n\nEwbank on,\n\nreligiosity of,\n\nBritain. _See_ Great Britain\n\nBritish Foreign Office,\n\nBritish Honduras, deportation of American Negroes to, \u2013180\n\nBritish Honduras Company,\n\nBritish Navy. _See_ Royal Navy\n\nBritish Squadron, ,\n\nBritish West Indies, deportation of American Negroes to,\n\nBrookhouse, Robert, , n52\n\nBrown, Edward,\n\nBrown, John: to Euro-Americans, \u201368\n\nexecutioner,\n\nPrice and, \u2013207\n\nSpanish interest in,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and, , ,\n\nBrown, John Henry,\n\nBryan, Edward,\n\nBuchanan, James: Calhoun (John C.) and, \u201383\n\non interference with slavery in the South,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and, ,\n\nBuenos Aires (once Buenos Ayres): American diplomat in,\n\nmurder of whites in, n74\n\nBunch, Robert,\n\nBurton, Richard,\n\nBush, George W.,\n\nCabinda, the Congo, slave trading in, \u201364, \u2013149\n\nCalhoun, James Edward,\n\nCalhoun, John C.: on Brazil,\n\non British suppression of the slave trade, , \u201356\n\nBuchanan and, \u201383\n\ndefense of slavery,\n\nFiganiere and, n13\n\ninfluence on U.S. foreign policy, ,\n\nIrving and,\n\nJollivet and,\n\non usual course of Brazilian slave trade, n13\n\nWebb and,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and, , , ,\n\nCalifornia Gold Rush, \u2013105\n\nabolitionism, , \u201388, \u201398\n\nAmericans' attitude toward Brazil, \u2013105\n\nBrazilian slave trade, \u201314\n\nconfrontations between U.S. nations and Brazilians, \u201394\n\nexpansionist sentiments,\n\nGold Rushers in Rio de Janeiro, \u201399\n\nhardening of regional differences in the U.S.,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and, ,\n\nnormalcy of slavery,\n\nRio de Janeiro, Americans in,\n\nroutes to California,\n\nCallbreath, John,\n\nCape S\u00e3o Roque, Brazil,\n\nCape Town, Semmes in, \u2013190\n\nCardoso, Fernando Henrique, ,\n\n\"Carolina\" (American schooner),\n\nCarshaw, William L.,\n\nCarter, Jimmy,\n\nCarter, Rosalynn,\n\nCarvalho, Rafael Antonio de, \u201324\n\nCass, Lewis, ,\n\nCathcart, Captain,\n\nCathcart, Robert S., n90\n\nCatholicism in Brazil, \u2013103\n\nCazzam, A. H., ,\n\nCelestina, John,\n\nCemeterio dos Prietos Novos (Cemetery of the New Blacks), \u2013254\n\nCentral America, deportation of American Negroes to,\n\nChapman, Horatio,\n\n\"Charles F. A. Cole\" (American schooner), n57\n\n**Charleston Mercury** (newspaper),\n\nChase, Salmon,\n\nChestnut, Mary,\n\nChristie, W. D.,\n\nCitizenship, fluidity of,\n\nCivil War: African Slave Trade, influence of, \u2013171\n\nBritain's retreat from demanding right to search\/seize U.S.-flagged ships,\n\nburning of American ships off Brazil,\n\ncauses of, ,\n\ndamage done to U.S. commerce by Semmes,\n\neffect on Brazil, , , \u2013230, n81\n\nemigration of Confederates during,\n\nending of,\n\nimpact on South Africa,\n\nlabor needs in Brazil,\n\nMaryland Constitutional Convention (1864), , ,\n\nrestoration of California to Mexico, , , \u2013215\n\nsearch\/seizure of U.S.-flagged ships, ,\n\nslave trading by U. S. nationals during, \u2013168, \u2013187\n\nslavery's fate,\n\nsuppression of the slave trade, , \u2013185\n\nU.S. trade with Africa prior to, . _See also_ Confederate States of America (CSA)\n\nClary, J. B., \u2013153,\n\nClay, J. B., \u201347\n\nClayton-Bulwer Treaty (1850),\n\nClemson, Thomas G.,\n\nCleveland, Grover,\n\nCliffe, Jose, n13\n\nClink, John Jackson,\n\nCobb, Howell,\n\nCobden, Richard,\n\nCodman, John, , ,\n\nCoffee production in: Brazil, , , , n2\n\nCuba,\n\nSanto Domingo (now Dominican Republic),\n\nCoggeshall, George,\n\nCohen, Joshua,\n\nCole, John,\n\nCollantes, Calderon,\n\nCollins, Napoleon, \u2013196\n\nColonization of Blacks: of Africa,\n\nAmerican Colonization Society, n36\n\nof Latin America, , \u2013250\n\nLincoln and, \u2013174\n\npolitical rights for blacks, n34\n\nas a remedy for slavery, \u2013173. _See also_ Deportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin\n\nColston, Frederick N.,\n\n\"Columbia\" (American frigate),\n\nColumbus Wasson (later Vass\u00e3o), Steve,\n\nCompanhia Portuguesa. _See_ Portuguese Company\n\nConant, Roger,\n\nConfederate expatriates in Brazil (\"Confederados\"), \u2013245\n\nBrazilian expatriation scheme,\n\nBrazilian planters' response to,\n\nBrazil's war with Uruguay, \u2013229\n\nclass origins of,\n\nconduct of,\n\nconflicts with Northerners in Brazil,\n\ncrimes committed by, ,\n\ndesire to continue African slavery, \u2013203, \u2013207,\n\ndisappointment\/disillusionment, , , \u2013235, \u2013240\n\ndiscrediting of slaveholders and slavery,\n\ndownward social mobility among, \u2013241\n\neconomic and social capital of, \u2013213\n\nemigration during the Civil War,\n\nfear of being murdered in Brazil,\n\nfinancial ruin in U.S., \u2013209\n\nhatred of federal government, \u2013203\n\nhatred of Yankees,\n\nill-fatedness of the adventure, \u2013242\n\nlanguage barriers, , , ,\n\nlonesomeness,\n\nLusophone culture,\n\nmilitary service in Brazil,\n\nmodern-day,\n\nmotives for expatriation, \u2013203, \u2013228, \u2013207\n\n**New York Times** on, \u2013210, , \u2013239\n\nnumber of, \u2013201, , n13\n\nopposition to ending of slavery in Brazil, \u2013245\n\nin Para, \u2013200\n\nparticipation in slave trading,\n\npessimism about prospects for the U.S., \u2013206,\n\nprofessionals among,\n\nprohibition of importing slaves into Brazil, ,\n\nprosperity among,\n\nracial equality in Brazil,\n\nracial _vs._ ethnic bias among,\n\nreligious issues,\n\nremaining in 1876,\n\nrepatriation\/return to U.S., , , \u2013222, , , \u2013243\n\nsettlements of, ,\n\nslaveholding by, ,\n\nslaves brought by,\n\nsocieties promoting expatriation,\n\nin th century, \u2013251,\n\nas threats to security of the U.S.,\n\nU.S.\u2013British relations, \u2013209\n\nwelcome extended to, , \u2013212,\n\nConfederate States of America (CSA): African Slave Trade, ,\n\nBrazil and, , , , \u2013197\n\nBritish shipbuilding for,\n\nburning of American ships in Brazil,\n\nConfederate generals and militarists serving in Mexico, \u2013209\n\ndemise's effect on Brazil,\n\ndetachment of Texas from,\n\ndiplomatic recognition of, , ,\n\nexistence of slavery in Brazil,\n\nexpatriates in Brazil ( _see_ Confederate expatriates in Brazil); Great Britain and, \u2013154,\n\ngroundwork for,\n\nMaury as ambassador for,\n\nPortugal and,\n\nprivateers from, , ,\n\nslave-trading operatives, \u2013187, 188\u2013189; South African support for, \u2013190\n\nSpain and, \u2013155\n\nsympathy in Brazil, ,\n\nsympathy in Portugal,\n\nWise's (Henry Alexander) role,\n\n\"Congo\" (American schooner),\n\nConrad, Robert,\n\nConvention of 1824,\n\nConway, Chaplin,\n\n\"Cora\" (American slaver),\n\nCornwallis, Charles,\n\nCosta Soares, Samuel da, n52, n4\n\nCotton growing in: Brazil, , \u2013188, , n6\n\nIndia, \u2013157\n\nCrampton, John, \u2013117\n\nCratonick, Vincent,\n\nCrawford, Joseph T., \u2013148\n\nCuba: alliance\/relations with the South, ,\n\nAmerican expansionism, ,\n\ncoffee production,\n\nfears of slave revolts in,\n\nas a firewall protecting U.S. slavery,\n\nMaxwell, Wright and Co. in,\n\nprice of slaves in,\n\nprosperity in, n6\n\nslave trading in, \u2013146, n25, n6\n\nslavery in, ,\n\nSouthern filibustering expeditions to,\n\nSouthern nationalists,\n\nThirteenth Amendment,\n\nCummings, Andrew Boyd, \u201350, ,\n\nCunha, A. M. da,\n\nCunha, Antonio de Luis da,\n\nCunha Reis, Figaniere and Co. (aka Figaniere, Reis & Co.), ,\n\nCunha Reis, Manuel Bazilio da,\n\nCurrier, Nathaniel,\n\n\"Cyrus\" (American ship),\n\nDahlgren, J. A.,\n\nDahomey, King of, ,\n\nDavis, David Brion,\n\nDavis, Jefferson: African Squadron, opposition to,\n\ncapture of,\n\nemigration of bodyguard to Brazil,\n\nHilliard and,\n\nLouis Napoleon and,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) on,\n\nDavis, Margaret Lockhard,\n\nDe Bow, J. D. B., ,\n\n**De Bow's Review** (magazine), ,\n\nDe Villiers, Lord,\n\n\"Decatur\" (American ship),\n\nDelany, Martin,\n\nDeportation of American Negroes: to the Amazon River basin ( _see_ Deportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin); to British Honduras, \u2013180\n\nto British West Indies,\n\nto Central America,\n\nClayton-Bulwer Treaty (1850),\n\nto Guatemala,\n\nto Guyana,\n\nLincoln and, \u2013174, \u2013177, , \u2013182\n\nRadical Republicans, ,\n\nto San Salvador,\n\nSeward and, \u2013181, \u2013183\n\nSpain's view,\n\nDeportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin, \u2013127, \u2013197\n\nAmerican business interests, \u2013110\n\nBrazil's climate, ,\n\nBrazil's response,\n\nChase and,\n\nCongressional support for, \u2013176\n\nDouglass on,\n\neconomic boom in the basin,\n\nexclusion of France and England from the Amazon,\n\nManifest Destiny,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and, , \u20136, , , , , \u2013127, , , , \u2013248\n\nprecedents, \u2013176\n\nright to emigrate,\n\nas a safety valve, ,\n\nas a substitute for suppressing the African Slave Trade,\n\nSumner and,\n\nTreaty of Union (1856),\n\nU. S. foreign policy, \u20136, \u2013112\n\nWebb and, , , \u2013179, \u2013183, , . _See also_ Colonization of Blacks\n\nDewing, Sammuel,\n\nDistrict of Columbia, slave trading in, __\n\n\"Dolphin\" (American brig), , n65\n\nDoolittle, James,\n\nDouglas, Stephen,\n\nDouglass, Frederick: on American attempts to suppress the slave trade,\n\non Brazil, , \u2013104,\n\non deportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin,\n\nMonroe and,\n\nas proposed Minister to Brazil,\n\non Wise (Henry Alexander),\n\nDow (owner of the \"Amelia\"),\n\nDrain, F. P.,\n\nDrinker, Sandwith, \u201362\n\nDu Bignon, John,\n\nDu Bois, W. E. B., ,\n\nDuchow, John, \u201387\n\nDumas, P. C.,\n\nDunn, Ballard S., \u2013230,\n\nDurr, Clifford, \u2013230\n\nDyer (a judge),\n\nEast Africa: African Squadron in, n116\n\nAmerican influence in,\n\nprofitability of slave trading in,\n\nRoyal Navy in, , \u2013148, , , n55\n\nslave trading by Portuguese nationals, \u201348\n\nslave trading by U. S. nationals, \u201348, , \u201362, \u2013145, , \u2013168,\n\nslave trading in,\n\nas a source of slaves, \u201343. _See also_ Mozambique\n\nEast India Cotton Company,\n\n\"Echo\" (American slaver),\n\nEcuador, response to colonization of Latin America,\n\nEdmonstone, Commodore,\n\nEdwards, Monroe, \u2013109\n\nEdwards, William H., ,\n\nEldridge, George, n45\n\n\"Eleanor\" (American slaver), n78\n\nEmancipation Proclamation (1863): Lincoln and, \u2013175\n\nSemmes on,\n\nslavery in the U.S., , \u2013175\n\nWebb on,\n\nEmigration: of Blacks to Argentina,\n\nof Blacks to Brazil, \u2013250\n\nof Confederates to Brazil ( _see_ Confederate expatriates in Brazil); right of,\n\nEngerman, Stanley,\n\n\"Erie\" (American corvette),\n\n\"Evangeline\" (American schooner), \u201335\n\nEwbank, Thomas: on Brazilians,\n\non race relations in Brazil,\n\nshackles in Brazil,\n\nsympathy for Brazilian slaves,\n\n_Excellent_ (brig),\n\n\"Fame\" (American whaler), \u201363, n67\n\nFarrar, F. H.,\n\nFehrenbacher, Don E.,\n\nFenton, Reuben E., \u2013159\n\nFerguson, Green,\n\nFiganiere, Reis & Co. (aka Cunha Reis, Figaniere and Co.), ,\n\nFiganiere, William: Calhoun (John C.) and, n13\n\nas Consul General,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and,\n\nslave trading by, , n57\n\nSmith (James) and, n57\n\nFillmore, Millard,\n\n\"Fire-eaters,\"\n\n\"Firefly\" (American slaver), \u2013141\n\n\"Fleet Eagle\" (American slaver),\n\nFlores, Francisco Antonio, n2\n\nFlorida, slave trading in,\n\n\"Florida\" (Confederate cruiser), capture of, \u2013196\n\nFogel, Robert,\n\nFonseca, Manuel Pinto de: Cunha (Antonio de Luis da) and,\n\nfinancing of U.S. slave ships,\n\nMaxwell, Wright and Co., \u20139,\n\nParris and,\n\n_Porpoise_ and, \u201341\n\nPotter and,\n\nSa and,\n\nslave trading, \u20139, , , n4\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) on,\n\nFoot, Solomon, \u2013159\n\nFoote, Andrew,\n\nForbes, Lieutenant,\n\nFrance: exclusion from the Amazon River basin,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and, ,\n\n_Freedom's Journal,_ , ,\n\nGabriel, Edmund, ,\n\nGabriel's Rebellion,\n\nGardner, Charlotte, \u201386\n\nGarrison, William Lloyd, ,\n\nGaston, James McFadden: on Brazilian cotton,\n\nexpatriation to Brazil, \u2013203, \u2013225, \u2013235\n\nGeggus, David,\n\n\"Georgia\" (Confederate ship), \u2013193\n\nGhent, Treaty of (1814),\n\n\"Glencliff\" (American slaver), n78\n\n**Godey's Lady Book,** \u2013100\n\nGordon, George: candidacy for Governor of Massachusetts,\n\neducation, n38\n\nParris and,\n\nin Rio de Janeiro, ,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and, ,\n\nGordon, Nathaniel, execution of, \u2013167,\n\nGraham, John, \u201322\n\nGraham, William, , \u2013119,\n\nGrant, Ulysses S., , ,\n\nGreat Britain: abolitionism in, , ,\n\ncolonization of Latin America,\n\nConfederate States of America (CSA) and, \u2013154,\n\nCuba falling into American hands,\n\ndeportation of American Negroes by Americans, \u2013117, \u2013181\n\ndeportations by, \u2013176\n\nequipment clause in anti-slave treaties,\n\nexclusion from the Amazon River basin,\n\nForeign Office ( _see_ British Foreign Office); relations with Brazil, , , \u201351, , ,\n\nrelations with Portugal, \u201318,\n\nrelations with Spain,\n\nrelations with United States, , , \u201331, \u201358, , , , , \u2013160, , , \u2013197\n\nretreat from demanding right to search\/seize U.S.-flagged ships,\n\nshipbuilding for Confederate States of America,\n\nsuppression of the slave trade, \u20138, , , , , , \u201351, \u201356, , \u201372, , , , , \u2013147, \u2013156, ,\n\nWebster-Ashburton Treaty of 1842, . _See also_ Royal Navy\n\nGreeley, Horace,\n\nGreen, Duff, , \u201356,\n\nGregg, Maxcy,\n\nGuatemala, deportation of American Negroes to,\n\nGuinea, price of slaves in, n5\n\nGuyana, deportation of American Negroes to,\n\nHaiti, abolitionism in,\n\nHall, Charles,\n\nHall, L. J.,\n\nHall, Robert,\n\nHamilton, Joseph,\n\nHamlin, Hannibal, , n39\n\nHarper, Robert,\n\nHarris, William, , n45\n\nHarrison, Pegram,\n\nHarvey (U.S. Minister in Lisbon),\n\nHawthorne Hotel (Salem, Massachusetts),\n\nHayden, Daniel S.,\n\nHaynes, Samuel B.,\n\n\"Hazard\" (American slaver), n78\n\nHelper, Hinton,\n\nHenderson (purchasing agent for Federal Government),\n\nHendricks, Charles,\n\n\"Henry Clay\" (American pilot boat),\n\nHenshaw, Edward,\n\nHerndon, William, \u2013116,\n\n\"Herschel\" (American vessel),\n\nHesketh, Robert,\n\nHigginbotham, A. Leon,\n\nHill, Pasco G.,\n\nHilliard, Henry W., \u2013246\n\nHodge (agent of British Honduras Company),\n\nHolden, Levi,\n\nHopkins, Edward,\n\nHotchkiss, Jedediah,\n\nHouston, Sam, , , \u2013135\n\nHowden, Lord (British Minister to Brazil),\n\nHowe, George,\n\nHudson, James, ,\n\nHunter, Mary Robinson, , \u201383,\n\nHunter, William,\n\nIrving, Washington,\n\n\"Itacas\" in Mozambique, n53\n\n\"J. J. Cobb\" (American slaver), \u2013164\n\nJackson, Donald,\n\nJackson, Stonewall: blockade-running fellow officer,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) compared to, ,\n\ntopographer of,\n\nJamaica, sugar production in, \u2013156\n\n_Jane_ (Netherlands barque),\n\nJansen (an American in Surinam),\n\nJarvis, Thomas J., ,\n\nJay, John,\n\nJefferson, Thomas, ,\n\nJefferson College Medical School,\n\nJim Crow laws,\n\nJohnson, Captain,\n\nJohnson, James,\n\nJohnson, Peter, \u201342\n\nJohnson, Robert, \u2013139\n\nJollivet, Thomas,\n\nJones, A. A.,\n\nJones, James T.,\n\nJudkins, James Henry, \u2013230\n\n\"Julia Moulton\" (American brig), n57\n\nKansas-Nebraska Act (1854), ,\n\nKarasch, Mary Catherine,\n\nKeefe, C. H.,\n\nKell, John McIntosh,\n\n\"Kentucky\" (American slaver),\n\nKeyes, Julia Louisa Hentz, , ,\n\nKimball family (of Northeast U.S.), \u2013143\n\nKing, Martin Luther, Jr.,\n\nKnights of the Golden Circle, ,\n\nKnow-Nothing Party, ,\n\nKrafft, Lewis,\n\nLamar, L. Q. C.,\n\nLatrobe (General Longstreet's A.A.G.),\n\nLavallette, Commodore,\n\nLawrence, John C., ,\n\n\"Leader\" (American merchant ship),\n\nLee, Robert E.: emigration of fellow officer to Brazil,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) compared to, , , , ,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and,\n\nLesseps, Ferdinand de,\n\nLewis, Oscar,\n\nLibby, Cyrus, \u201343, n38\n\n**The Liberator** (abolitionist organ), _52_\n\nLidgerwood, William Van Vleck, \u2013211\n\nLincoln, Abraham: assassination of,\n\ncolonization of Blacks, \u2013174\n\ndeportation of American Negroes, \u2013174, \u2013177, , \u2013182\n\nEmancipation Proclamation, \u2013175\n\nforeign policy,\n\nGordon's (Nathaniel) execution for slave trading,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and,\n\nSemmes's tombstone for, \u2013191\n\non suppression of the African Slave Trade,\n\nwar against Mexico,\n\nLisboa, Mr. (Brazilian minister in Washington),\n\n**London Times** (newspaper),\n\nLong, R. S.,\n\nLuanda, Angola: American business community in, n52\n\nslave trading in, , \u2013184,\n\nas a twin tower of the African Slave Trade,\n\n\"Lucy Penniman\" (American barque),\n\nLyman, Albert, ,\n\nLyons, Lord, , , \u2013181\n\nMacaulay, Thomas,\n\nMace, Daniel, \u2013159\n\nMachado, J. A., n4\n\nMacKnight, Elizabeth McAlpine,\n\nMadiera and Mamore Railroad project, \u2013248\n\nMaia, Joaquim Jose Moreira,\n\nMaine: ship building for slave trading,\n\nslave trading tradition,\n\nManifest Destiny: deportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin,\n\nexpansion of the Navy, \u2013122\n\nMann, W. Grayson,\n\nManning, George,\n\nMansfield, Charles, n95\n\nMarcy, William, ,\n\nMartinez, Domingo,\n\nMartinique, slave revolt in,\n\n\"Mary Adeline\" (American brig), \u201345\n\n\"Mary Cushing\" (American vessel), n65\n\n\"Mary E. Smith\" (American schooner), , n2\n\nMaryland Constitutional Convention (1864), , ,\n\nMas, Ventura Buona,\n\nMaury, Dabney Herndon,\n\nMaury, J. M.,\n\nMaury, Matthew Fontaine, \u2013127, \u2013221\n\nAfrican Slave Trade, ,\n\nagent for,\n\non the Amazon River,\n\nannexation of Santo Domingo,\n\nanti-Washington sentiments,\n\nautodidacticism,\n\non Brazil,\n\nbrother-in-law,\n\nCalifornia Gold Rush, ,\n\ncitizenship, fluidity of,\n\nas Confederate ambassador,\n\nin Confederate Navy, _,_ ,\n\nconquest of Mexico and Central America,\n\non Davis,\n\ndefense of slave-exporting states, \u2013132, n26\n\ndeportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin, , \u20136, , , , , , \u2013127, , , , \u2013248\n\nexclusion of France and England from the Amazon, 122; expansion of the Navy, \u2013122\n\nexpatriation and, \u2013217\n\nFiganiere and,\n\nFrance and, ,\n\nfree navigation of the Amazon River,\n\nGraham and, , \u2013119\n\nGreat Britain and,\n\nhatred of the U.S.,\n\nHerndon and, \u2013116,\n\nhonors,\n\nHouston (Sam) and,\n\nas \"Inca,\"\n\nJackson (Stonewall) compared to,\n\nJefferson and,\n\nlameness,\n\nLee (Robert E.) compared to, , , , ,\n\nLincoln and,\n\nin London, , \u2013219\n\nManifest Destiny,\n\nManning and,\n\nMaximilian and, , , \u2013216\n\nin Mexico, \u2013218\n\nNapoleon and,\n\nNaval Academy, ,\n\nnephew,\n\noceanography, , ,\n\nodyssey of,\n\nas a plotter,\n\nportrait, __\n\nPortugal and, \u2013126\n\nrepresentativeness of,\n\nrestoration of California to Mexico, , , \u2013215\n\nRussian and, \u2013218\n\nseizure of Brazilian territory, , , ,\n\nslavery,\n\nsocial network of,\n\nson, , ,\n\nstatue of,\n\nstature of,\n\ntorpedoes,\n\ntreaty with Bolivia, \u2013120\n\ntreaty with Peru, \u2013120\n\nUSS Vincennes,\n\nVirginia Military Institute,\n\nVirginia State Library,\n\nWise (Henry) and,\n\nMaury, Richard, \u2013220\n\nMaximilian, Archduke Ferdinand: Blue on,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and, , , \u2013216\n\nneed for military officers,\n\nMaxwell, Wright and Co.: in Cuba,\n\nFonseca and, \u20139\n\nParris and,\n\n_Porpoise_ and, \u201341\n\nin Rio de Janeiro, , \u201330,\n\nslave trading by, \u201341\n\nin West Indies,\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and,\n\nWright (William) and,\n\nWright (William) on,\n\nMayo, Isaac, n55\n\nMcBlair, William, \u2013142\n\nMcCormick, Cyrus,\n\nMcCue, J. Marshall, \u2013227\n\nMcCullen, Frank,\n\nMcFalan, John R.,\n\nMcIntyre, Duncan,\n\nMcIntyre, Major,\n\nMcKinney, Bruce,\n\nMcLaughlin, Andrew,\n\nMcLaws, Lafayette,\n\nMeade, Richard Kidder, Jr.,\n\nMeade, Richard Kidder, Sr., \u2013160, ,\n\nMerriwether, Robert S.,\n\nMessrs. E. Lapitt & Co.,\n\nMessrs. Farham & Fry (Salem, Massachusetts),\n\nMexican War (1846-1848), ,\n\nMexico: Confederate generals and militarists serving in, \u2013209\n\nfears of U.S. seizing its territory,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) in, \u2013218\n\nneed for military officers,\n\nrelations with United States,\n\nrestoration of California to, , , \u2013215\n\nSemmes in, \u2013191\n\nMiles, William Porcher,\n\nMiller, James W.,\n\nMiller, John,\n\nMixed Commission (at Cape of Good Hope),\n\nMonroe, James (Ohio diplomat): as Consul, ,\n\nDouglass and,\n\non Semmes's destruction of Northern ships,\n\nslaves brought by Confederate expatriates in Brazil,\n\ntrip to Rio, \u2013194\n\nwelcome extended by Brazilians to Confederate expatriates,\n\nMorris, C. M.,\n\nMorton, Richard: Brazilian compared to American slaves,\n\non Brazilian women,\n\nin Rio de Janeiro, \u201395,\n\nMozambique: \"Itacas\" in, n53\n\nRoyal Navy in,\n\nslave trading in, , ,\n\nas source of slaves, \u201339\n\nNalle, Thomas,\n\nNapoleon: exile, n35\n\nflight of Portuguese king,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and,\n\nSpanish struggle against,\n\nNapoleon, Louis, , ,\n\nNash, Ruth, \u201388,\n\nNationality, ease of,\n\nNew Orleans, slave trading in, , , n25\n\nNew York City: anti-abolitionist riot (1834), \u2013173\n\nNew Yorkers in Brazil, \u2013205\n\nslave trading in, \u2013129, \u2013132, , \u2013136, \u2013139, ,\n\nNew York City Anti-Slavery Society,\n\n**New York Herald** (newspaper),\n\n**New York Times** (newspaper) on: attractions of life in Brazil,\n\nBrazilian slaveholders,\n\nCivil War's effect Brazil,\n\nConfederate expatriates in Brazil, \u2013210, , \u2013239\n\nConfederate privateers,\n\ncotton trade, \u2013188\n\nduty on slave-grown products,\n\nemigration of Confederates during the Civil War,\n\nrepatriated Southerners, , \u2013243\n\nSoutherners in Brazil,\n\nU.S. alliance with Brazil,\n\nWood's reception in S\u00e3o Paulo, \u2013212\n\n**New York Tribune** (newspaper),\n\nNew York Vigilance Society,\n\nNicholson, William H., n45\n\n\"Nightingale\" (American slaver),\n\n\"Noc Daqui\" (American slaver),\n\n**North Star** (newspaper), \u2013104\n\nOgilvie (British merchant in Brazil),\n\nO'Hara, Charles,\n\nOrton, James,\n\nP. J. Farnham & Co. (New York),\n\nPalma, Joaquim de, \u2013170\n\nPanama, Brazilian Negro workers in, \u2013248\n\nPangburn, James Lamoureaux,\n\n\"Panther\" (American ship),\n\nPara, Brazil, , , \u2013200\n\nParker, William H., \u201386\n\nParris, Pedro: capture and enslavement of, \u201343,\n\nreversal of journey made by,\n\nship brought to America in, n39\n\nParris, Virgil, n39\n\nParsons, R. C.,\n\nPartridge, James R.,\n\nPatten, Lincoln, \u2013145\n\nPaula Souza, Antonio Francisco de,\n\nPaulo, Captain,\n\nPedro, Don, ,\n\nPendleton, Ralph Cross,\n\nPercival, Captain, \u201312\n\nPerkins, George Hamilton, \u2013141\n\nPernambuco, Brazil (now Recife): American business interests in, \u2013111\n\ncotton trade,\n\ndirt in, n95\n\nsympathy for Confederate States of America,\n\nPerry, Matthew Calbraith,\n\nPeru, relations with Brazil, \u2013123\n\nPhelan, Jack,\n\nPhillips, Richard, n61\n\nPhillips, Wendell,\n\nPickett, John F.,\n\nPierce, Hayward, estate of, n45\n\nPike, Nicholas,\n\nPinto, Manoel,\n\nPittman, Booker,\n\nPittman, Captain,\n\nPius IX, Pope,\n\nPolk, James K.: first cousin of,\n\nU.S. relations with Brazil, \u201384\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and, ,\n\nPomeroy, Samuel Clarke, , n34\n\n\"Porpoise\" (American slaver), \u201342, , n38\n\nPorter, A. A.,\n\nPorter, J. D.: on Brazilians,\n\non destinations of Confederate expatriates,\n\nexpatriation to Brazil, , , \u2013228\n\nPortugal: Adams (John Quincy) on,\n\nAfrican Slave Trade, ,\n\nalliance\/relations with the South,\n\nAmerican slave traders,\n\nBritish enforcement of anti-slave statutes,\n\nBritish search\/seizure of Portuguese-flagged ships,\n\nConfederate States of America (CSA) and, ,\n\nemissaries in U.S.,\n\nJefferson and,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and, \u2013126\n\nrefusal to abandon slave trading,\n\nrelations with Great Britain, \u201318,\n\nrelations with United States, \u201347, , , \u2013171\n\nsearch\/ seizure of its ships by Royal Navy,\n\nslave trading ( _see_ Slave trading by Portuguese nationals); sympathy for Confederate States of America,\n\nPortuguese Company (Companhia Portuguesa),\n\nPotter, James,\n\nPratt, Julius Howard, \u201389\n\nPrice, Henry, \u2013207\n\nPringle, John J.,\n\n**Provincial Freeman** (weekly newspaper), \u2013124\n\nPuerto Rico: slave revolt in,\n\nThirteenth Amendment,\n\nQuintuple Treaty of 1841,\n\nRaguet, Condy,\n\nRamirez, Salvador, ,\n\nRandall, M. J.,\n\nRay, Joseph,\n\nRaymond, Henry J.,\n\nReboucas, Andre,\n\nRecife, Brazil. _See_ Pernambuco, Brazil Reconstruction: emigration of Blacks to Brazil, \u2013250\n\nfilibustering by U.S. nationals in Brazil,\n\nReemlin, Chr.,\n\nRemsen, Peter, ,\n\nRepublican Association of Washington,\n\nRepublican Party: deportation of American Negroes, ,\n\nregional tensions,\n\nrun-up to ascension to power,\n\nsubsidization of black colonization of Latin America,\n\nRibeiro, Jose Luiz Whitaker,\n\nRice, Condoleezza,\n\nRichard, C. B.,\n\nRichardson, George, \u201341, n38\n\n**Rio Daily News** (newspaper), \u2013250\n\nRio de Janeiro: American Charg\u00e9s des Affaires in,\n\nAmerican Consul,\n\nAmerican emissary in,\n\nAmerican riot in,\n\nattempted insurrection in, \u201382\n\nblack corpses in, \u2013254\n\nBrazilian army\/police in, \u201393\n\nBritish Consul in,\n\nCalifornia Gold Rushers in, , \u201399\n\nCemeterio dos Prietos Novos (Cemetery of the New Blacks), \u2013254\n\nconfrontations between U.S. nations and Brazilians, \u201394\n\nfree Negroes in,\n\nharbor entrance, n29\n\ninternment of slaves in,\n\nMaxwell, Wright and Co. in, , \u201330,\n\nMonroe in,\n\nNash (Ruth) on,\n\nprostitutes in,\n\nroads in,\n\nrunaway slaves in,\n\nsale of U.S. ships in, , n48\n\nslave population of,\n\nslave trading in, , , , ,\n\nslaves in,\n\nsympathy for Confederate States of America,\n\nas a twin tower of the African Slave Trade,\n\nU.S. flagged ships in, n15\n\nwhite population of,\n\nWhitman on, \u2013101\n\nWright (William) in,\n\nRobinson, Eugene,\n\nRocha, Jose da Cosat de,\n\nRosas, Juan Manuel de, \u201390,\n\nRost, P. J.,\n\nRoyal Navy: British Squadron, ,\n\ndemands made on, n35\n\nin East Africa, , \u2013148, , , n55\n\neffect on African Slave Trade, \u201364\n\nenforcement of anti-slave statutes, , , ,\n\nrelations with U.S. Navy,\n\nsearch\/seizure of Brazilian-flagged ships,\n\nsearch\/seizure of Portuguese-flagged ships,\n\nsearch\/seizure of Spanish-flagged ships,\n\nsearch\/seizure of U.S.-flagged ships, , \u20138, , , \u201364, ,\n\ntactics used to deceive the,\n\nin West Africa, , , ,\n\nRuffin, Edmund,\n\ncapture of the \"Florida,\"\n\non reopening the slave trade,\n\non slave trading in Florida,\n\non slavery in Brazil,\n\nRuggles, David,\n\nRummels, Hardin R.,\n\nRuschenberger, W. S. W.,\n\nRussell, Lord,\n\nRussell, R. W.,\n\nSa, Bernardino de, , , n4\n\nSabino (Sabino Vieira),\n\n\"Sacramento\" (American vessel),\n\nSt. Croix, slave revolt in,\n\nSalem, Massachusetts: Brazilian slave trade,\n\nEast African slave trade, , , \u201362\n\nWest African slave trade,\n\n**Salem Register,**\n\n\"San Jacinto\" (American vessel),\n\nSan Salvador, deportation of American Negroes to,\n\nSanto Domingo (now Dominican Republic): American expansionism, ,\n\ncoffee production,\n\ndestruction of slavery in,\n\nSantos, Robert dos,\n\nS\u00e3o Paulo: Confederate expatriates in, ,\n\nWood's reception in, \u2013212\n\n**Savannah Daily Morning News** (newspaper),\n\nSchaeffer, L. M.,\n\nSchleiden, Rudolph,\n\nSchurz, Carl,\n\nScott, Robert G.,\n\n\"Sea Eagle\" (American ship),\n\nSemmes, Raphael, as a privateer, \u2013195\n\n\"Senator\" (American slaver), n47, n50\n\nSeward, William: cotton growing,\n\ndeportation of American Negroes, \u2013181, \u2013183\n\nseizure of U.S.-flagged ships,\n\nSouthern privateers, , \u2013196\n\nU.S. relations with Portugal,\n\non U.S. as an asylum for foreign slaves,\n\nWebb and, \u2013178, ,\n\nWilson (Thomas) and,\n\nSheriff, Abdul,\n\nSherman, William Tecumseh, \u2013170\n\nSierra Leone, slave trading in,\n\nSilva, Augustus Archer da, n52\n\nSilva, Ignacio Barboza da,\n\nSimmons, Dr.,\n\nSlave imperialism, ,\n\nSlave revolts: aboard the _Kentucky,_\n\nin Brazil, \u201312, , \u201382\n\nGabriel's Rebellion,\n\n\"Male revolt\" (1835), ,\n\nin Martinique,\n\nNat Turner's,\n\nin Puerto Rico,\n\nin St. Croix,\n\nSteno's Revolt,\n\nSlave ships: conditions aboard, \u201344, \u201361, n47, n50\n\nselling of American ships in foreign ports,\n\nSlave trading: in Angola, , , , , , \u2013146, , , n52\n\nin Azores, \u2013145\n\nbranding of slaves,\n\nby Brazilian nationals ( _see_ Slave trading by Brazilian nationals); in Cabinda, the Congo, \u201364, \u2013149\n\nas a cause of the Civil War, ,\n\nby Confederate expatriates in Brazil,\n\nby Confederate operatives, \u2013187, \u2013189\n\nin Cuba, \u2013146, n25, n6\n\nby diplomats, , ,\n\nin District of Columbia, _32_ ; in East Africa, , \u201349\n\nequipment clause in anti-slave treaties,\n\nexternal forces' effects on, \u2013158\n\nfederal laws prohibiting participation by U.S. citizens, ,\n\nFonseca and, \u20139, , , n4\n\nin Guinea, n5\n\nhourly limits on pursuing slavers,\n\nby joint stock companies,\n\nby King of Dahomey,\n\nby Maxwell, Wright and Co., \u201341\n\nin Mozambique, , ,\n\nin New Orleans, , , n25\n\nin New York City, \u2013129, \u2013132, , \u2013136, \u2013139, ,\n\nby Northeasterners, , \u2013143\n\nby Portuguese nationals ( _see_ Slave trading by Portuguese nationals); profitability of African Slave Trade, , , ,\n\nprofitability of Brazilian slave trade, \u20134, , \u201376\n\nprosecutions under slave trade acts,\n\nprotection provided by U.S. citizenship,\n\nprotection provided by U.S. flag,\n\nrunaways, \u201346\n\nin Sierra Leone,\n\nslavery distinguished from, ,\n\nsovereignty and,\n\nsuppression by Great Britain, \u20138, , , , , , \u201351, \u201356, , \u201372, , , , , \u2013147, \u2013156,  ( _see also_ Royal Navy); suppression by United States, , \u201331, , \u201350, , , , \u2013185, , n64\n\nU.S. courts and,\n\nby U.S. nationals ( _see_ Slave trading by U. S. nationals); Virginians' hostility toward,\n\nin West Africa, \u2013143, ,\n\nWright (William) and, \u20139\n\nin Zanzibar, \u201362, , , n59. _See also_ African Slave Trade; Brazilian slave trade\n\nSlave trading by Brazilian nationals: by Fonseca, \u20139, , , n4\n\nintroduction of yellow fever,\n\nSlave trading by Portuguese nationals: during the Civil War, \u2013169\n\nin East Africa, \u201348\n\ngovernment acquiescence in,\n\nline of demarcation,\n\nSlave trading by U. S. nationals, \u201365\n\narrest\/imprisonment of American slavers in Brazil,\n\nin the Azores, \u2013145\n\nin Brazil, , ,\n\nin Cabinda, \u201364, \u2013149\n\ncaptaining slave ships,\n\nduring Civil War, \u2013168, \u2013187\n\nconvictions for, , , \u2013167\n\ncunning\/deviousness\/guile of, ,\n\nDu Bois on,\n\nin East Africa, \u201348, , \u201362, \u2013145, , \u2013168,\n\nby expatriates in Brazil,\n\nfederal laws prohibiting, ,\n\nfederal officers involved in slave trading,\n\nGordon's (Nathaniel) execution for, \u2013167,\n\nby naturalized citizens, ,\n\nby naturalized Portuguese, , ,\n\nnorthward shift in focus from Brazil to Cuba, \u2013147,\n\nPortugal and,\n\nprovision of ships for slave trading, , , , , , , , n34, n48\n\nwar with Britain and,\n\nby whalers\/slave traders disguised as whalers, , \u201337, \u201348, , n63\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) on, \u201378\n\nSlavery: Americans' response to slavery in Brazil,\n\nin Brazil ( _see_ Slavery in Brazil); Brazil's impact on Americans' attitude toward,\n\nas a cause of the Civil War, ,\n\ncolonization as a remedy, \u2013173\n\nin Cuba, ,\n\ndefense of, , , ,\n\ndiscrediting of,\n\nexternal forces' effects on, \u2013158\n\nfate of,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and,\n\nnormalcy of,\n\nslave trade distinguished from, ,\n\nslaves today,\n\nin United States ( _see_ Slavery in the United States)\n\nSlavery in Brazil: abolition of (1888), , \u2013245,\n\nambitions of Confederate States of America,\n\napplicability of slavery to California,\n\nCivil War's effect on, \u2013230\n\ndemand for slaves, \u201328, , \u2013109, ,\n\ndevolutionary spiral of,\n\nemancipation through \"free birth,\"\n\nMacaulay on,\n\nprohibition of importing slaves, , , n80\n\nRuffin on,\n\nshackles,\n\nSlavery in the United States: abolition of,\n\nbeing sold \"down the river,\" __\n\nBrazil and Cuba as firewalls protecting,\n\nBrazil as \"racial\" horror and paradise, \u201314\n\nconstitutional power to prohibit,\n\ndeath-note of,\n\ndiscrediting of,\n\nin the District of Columbia,\n\nearly th century,\n\nEmancipation Proclamation, , \u2013\n\nhemispheric understanding of, , , , , \u2013158,\n\ninterference with slavery in the South,\n\nkidnapping of free Negroes, \u201320\n\none drop rule,\n\nundermining of, \u201314\n\nU.S. as an asylum for foreign slaves,\n\nwestward expansion and,\n\nSlaves: in Brazil ( _see_ Slaves in Brazil); price in Africa, , \u2013131\n\nprice in Cuba,\n\nprice in Guinea, n5\n\nprice in the South,\n\nin United States ( _see_ Slaves in the United States)\n\nSlaves in Brazil: children of,\n\ncoffee production,\n\neating habits, n84\n\nethnic diversity among,\n\nEwbank on,\n\nJefferson on,\n\nmechanics among,\n\nparenthood among,\n\npopulation, , , , n76\n\nprice of, , , , ,\n\nin Rio de Janeiro,\n\nrunaways,\n\nskilled craftsmen among,\n\nslaves in the United States compared to, , , , , n124\n\nas vehicles for transporting goods, , \u201399\n\nSlaves in the United States: Chinese laborers as a replacement for, \u2013127,\n\ncolonization ( _see_ Colonization of Blacks); jump in population (1790-1820), n25\n\nplans to deport them to Brazil ( _see_ Deportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin); price of,\n\nslaves in Brazil compared to, , , , , n124\n\nSmith, E. Delafield,\n\nSmith, Herbert H.,\n\nSmith, James, n57\n\nSmith, Mary, ,\n\nSmith, Samuel, n45\n\n\"Solitaire\" (American vessel), n93\n\n\"The Sooy\" (American ship), , n19\n\nThe South: alliance\/relations with Brazil, \u20132, , , , ,\n\nalliance\/relations with Cuba, ,\n\nalliance\/relations with Portugal,\n\nappointment of Southerners as Minister to Brazil, \u2013160\n\ncessation of the slave trade,\n\nfilibustering expeditions to Cuba,\n\nneutralization of the North's advantages,\n\nprice of slaves in,\n\nsecessionists, ,\n\nseizure of Texas, ,\n\nslaves arriving from Cuba,\n\nSouthern nationalism,\n\nSpain and, \u2013155. _See also_ Confederate States of America (CSA)\n\nSouth African support for Confederate States of America, \u2013190\n\nSouth America, North American slave traders in, \u201319\n\nSouthern nationalism and search\/seizure of U.S.-flagged ships,\n\n**Southern Standard** (newspaper), ,\n\nSouto, Domingo Rodrigues, n55\n\nSouza, Jo\u00e3o Silveira e de,\n\nSouza Pinto, Bernadino de,\n\nSpain: abolitionism and, ,\n\nabolitionism in the U.S.,\n\nBritish enforcement of anti-slave statutes,\n\nBritish search\/seizure of Spanish-flagged ships,\n\ncolonization of Latin America,\n\nConfederate States of America (CSA) and, \u2013155\n\ndeportation of American Negroes by Americans,\n\nrelations with Great Britain,\n\nrelations with United States,\n\nsearch\/seizure of its ships by Royal Navy,\n\nstruggle against Napoleon,\n\nSpanish Foreign Ministry,\n\nSparhawk, John, n52\n\nSpratt, Leonidas W., , ,\n\nStapp, Walter,\n\nSteno's Revolt,\n\nSteve (freed slave),\n\nStevens, Henry Shipley, \u2013201,\n\nStevens, Milton, ,\n\nStevens, Thaddeus, n34\n\nStewart, C. S., , ,\n\nStillman, J. D. B.,\n\nStodder, Simon,\n\nStone, John,\n\nStoner, George,\n\nStory, Joseph,\n\nStuart, Charles,\n\nStuart, Edward Lewis,\n\nSugar production in Jamaica, \u2013156\n\nSumner, Charles, \u2013208\n\n\"Susan\" (American slaver),\n\nTakaki, Ronald,\n\nTanner, Mark, \u201342\n\nTappan, Arthur,\n\nTappan, Lewis,\n\nTavares, Francisco dos Santos,\n\nTemple, William,\n\nTempleton, John D.,\n\nTexas: abolitionism in, n74\n\ndetachment from the Confederacy,\n\nseizure of, ,\n\nslave trading in, n41\n\nThirteenth Amendment, \u201313\n\nThomas, Charles W.,\n\nThomas, James A.,\n\n\"Thomas Watson\" (American ship),\n\nThornton, Edward, ,\n\nTod, David,\n\nToplin, Robert,\n\nTotten (Commander of African Squadron),\n\nTrist, N. P., n55, n6\n\nTucker family of South Carolina, \u201346\n\nTurner, Nat, ,\n\n\"Tuscaloosa\" (American barque),\n\nTwain, Mark,\n\nTyler, John, ,\n\nTyrawley, Lord,\n\n\"Um pen a cozinha\" in,\n\n**Uncle Tom's Cabin** (Stowe),\n\nUnited States: coffee imports,\n\nslave trading ( _see_ Slave trading by U. S. nationals); slavery in ( _see_ Slavery in the United States); slaves in ( _see_ Slaves in the United States)\n\nU.S. Congress,\n\nU.S. courts, international slave trade and,\n\nU.S. foreign policy: African Slave Trade,\n\nalliance with Brazil, ,\n\nAmerican legation in Brazil,\n\nappointment of Southerners as Minister to Brazil, \u2013160\n\narrest\/imprisonment of American slavers in Brazil,\n\nBrazilian fears of American expansionism, , , \u2013119, \u2013123\n\nBritish enforcement of anti-slave statutes,\n\nCalhoun's (John C.) influence on, ,\n\ndeportation of American Negroes to the Amazon, \u20136, \u2013112\n\nfears of U.S. seizing Mexican territory,\n\nfederal laws prohibiting U.S. citizens from participating in African Slave Trade, , , , , , , n48\n\nLincoln and,\n\nprevention of the abuse of the American flag,\n\nprotection of commerce,\n\nrelations with Brazil, \u201329, \u201377, \u201384, , , \u2013160, , \u2013209, \u2013237, \u2013247\n\nrelations with Great Britain, , , \u201331, \u201358, , , , , , , \u2013197\n\nrelations with Mexico,\n\nrelations with Portugal, \u201347, , , \u2013171\n\nrelations with Spain,\n\nsearched\/ seizure of U.S.-flagged ships, , \u20138, , , , \u201364, , ,\n\nseizure of Texas, ,\n\nsuppression of the slave trade, , \u201331, , \u201350, , , ,\n\nU.S. Navy: ability to monitor slave trade, \u201361\n\nAfrican Squadron ( _see_ African Squadron); Anti-Slavery Squadron ( _see_ African Squadron); Brazil Squadron, ,\n\nexpansion of, \u2013122\n\nFiganiere and,\n\nillness aboard ships, \u201361\n\ninternational slave trade and,\n\nprimary mission, n64\n\nrelations with Royal Navy,\n\nsuppression of the slave trade, n64\n\nUniversity of Coimbra,\n\nUpham, Samuel, , ,\n\nUpshur, Abel P., , ,\n\nUruguay, war with Brazil, , \u2013229\n\nU.S.-flagged ships: African attacks on, \u201345\n\nin Rio de Janeiro, n15\n\nsale of, , n48\n\nsearch\/seizure of, , \u20138, , , , \u201364, , , , , , ,\n\nselling of American ships in foreign ports,\n\nswitching flags, \u201337, , , , n27\n\nUSS Bainbridge,\n\nUSS Boston,\n\nUSS Raritan, n38\n\nUSS Saratoga,\n\nUSS Vincennes,\n\nVass\u00e3o, Steve (previously Steve Columbus Wasson),\n\nVirginia: Angolans in,\n\nGabriel's Rebellion,\n\nslave exporting, \u2013132\n\nVirginia Military Institute,\n\nWade, Benjamin F., n34\n\nWait, Lucita Hardie, ,\n\nWalker, George D.,\n\nWalker, William, ,\n\nWalsh, Robert, \u201327\n\n\"Wanderer\" (American vessel), \u2013145\n\nWard, Charles,\n\nWarne, James Ox,\n\nWarren, John Esaias,\n\nWarwick, Dionne,\n\nWashington, Booker T.,\n\n\"Washington Barge\" (American schooner), n78\n\nWebb, James Watson: abolitionism, \u2013173\n\nBrazil, , , ,\n\nBrazil's complicity in Semmes' burning of American ships,\n\nCalhoun (John C.) and,\n\ncolonization of Africa,\n\ncolonization of Latin America,\n\ndeportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin, , , \u2013179, \u2013183, ,\n\non the Emancipation Proclamation,\n\non ending slavery in Brazil,\n\nHamlin and,\n\nhealth,\n\nMeade (Richard Kidder,, Sr.) and,\n\npersonality,\n\nSeward and, \u2013178, ,\n\nWebster, Daniel, ,\n\nWebster-Ashburton Treaty of 1842,\n\nWeed, Joseph W., ,\n\nWelles, Gideon: capture of the \"Florida,\"\n\ndeportation of American Negroes to the Amazon River basin,\n\nFoote and,\n\non Lincoln,\n\nWest Africa: African Squadron in, n116\n\nRoyal Navy in, , , ,\n\nslave trade between it and South America,\n\nslave trading in, \u2013143, ,\n\nviolence in, . _See also_ Angola\n\nWest Indies, Maxwell, Wright and Co. in,\n\nWestervelt, Minthone,\n\nWestward expansion: expansion of the Navy, \u2013122\n\nslavery in the United States,\n\nWestwood, J. J. C.,\n\nWetman, Mr. (British broker in Rio de Janeiro),\n\nWhaling: decline of American fleet, n63\n\nslave trading by whalers\/persons disguised as whalers, , \u201337, \u201348,\n\nWhitaker, Joseph, ,\n\nWhite, John C.,\n\n\"White Cloud\" (American barque),\n\nWhiting, Samuel,\n\nWhitman, Walt, \u2013101\n\nWigfall, Louis Trezevant,\n\n\"Wildfire\" (American slaver), __\n\n\"William\" (American schooner),\n\n\"William L. Coggeswell\" (American slaver),\n\nWilliams, George (\"Guilheme\"),\n\nWilliams, John,\n\nWilliams, Thomas: on Brazilian women,\n\ncharacter of,\n\nin Rio de Janeiro, , \u201399\n\nWilliams, William Richard,\n\nWillis, John, n52\n\nWillis, John G., ,\n\nWilmot, David,\n\nWilson, Henry, \u2013133\n\nWilson, J. Leighton,\n\nWilson, Thomas, \u2013195\n\nWilson, Woodrow,\n\nWinslow, Bradley,\n\nWise, Charles, \u2013137, \u2013146,\n\nWise, Henry Alexander, \u201384\n\nAdams (John Quincy) and,\n\nappearance,\n\nin Brazil, _,_ , \u201371, , \u201379\n\nBrazilian hostility towards,\n\non British suppression of the slave trade, \u201372\n\nBrown (John) and, , , _,_\n\nBuchanan and, ,\n\nCalhoun (John C.) and, , , ,\n\nin Confederacy,\n\nin Confederate Army,\n\ncongressional seat,\n\ncriticism of Brazilian slave trade, \u201365, \u201369, \u201374\n\ncriticism of slave trading by U. S. nationals, \u201378\n\ndefense of slave-exporting states, \u2013132\n\ndefense of slavery, , ,\n\nDouglass on,\n\nfear of slave revolts in Brazil,\n\non Fonseca,\n\nGordon (George) and, ,\n\nhealth,\n\nKnow-Nothing Party, ,\n\nLee (Robert E.) and,\n\nMaia on,\n\nMaury (Matthew Fontaine) and,\n\nMaxwell, Wright and Co.,\n\nNortherners despised by,\n\nopposition to African Slave Trade,\n\npolitical connections, ,\n\nPolk and, ,\n\nportrait, __\n\npresidential candidacy,\n\non slavery in the District of Columbia,\n\nthreats against Brazil,\n\nTyler and,\n\non war with Britain,\n\nWright (William) and, \u201378\n\nWood, Wallace, , \u2013212, \u2013236\n\nWoods, James, \u201397,\n\nWright, Robert, \u201380\n\nWright, William: in Brazil, , , \u201380,\n\non Maxwell, Wright and Co., ,\n\nslave trading, \u20139\n\nslaves belonging to, n54\n\nWise (Henry Alexander) and, \u201378\n\nWright family of Maryland,\n\nYancey, William L., , ,\n\nZanzibar: in African Slave Trade,\n\nAmerican influence in,\n\nslave trading in, \u201362, , , n59\n\n\"Zanzibar Room,\"\n\n\"Zete de Abril\" (Portuguese schooner), n65\n\n## **About the Author**\n\nGerald Horne is Moores Professor of History and African-American Studies at the University of Houston. His books include _Race Woman: The Lives of Shirley Graham Du Bois_ ; _Race War! White Supremacy and the Japanese Attack on the British Empire_ ; _Black and Brown: African Americans and the Mexican Revolution, 1910\u20131920_ ; _Red Seas: Ferdinand Smith and Radical Black Sailors in the United States and Jamaica_ ; and _The Color of Fascism: Lawrence Dennis, Racial Passing, and the Rise of Right-Wing Extremism in the United States_ ; all available from NYU Press.\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":" \n# **Contents**\n\n  1. Cover\n  2. Contents\n  3. Dedication\n  4. Title Page\n  5. Copyright\n  6. Acknowledgements\n  7. Introduction: Why Feminism?\n  8. 1 Generations of Feminism\n    1. Acts of Memory\n    2. Dubious Contrasts\n    3. Rowbotham's 'Seventies' Feminism\n    4. The Collapse of a Vision\n    5. A New Fundamentalism\n    6. The Turn to 'Theory'\n    7. Political Agendas\n  9. 2 Gender to Queer, and Back Again\n    1. The Rise of Gender Theory\n    2. The Allure of Difference\n    3. The Romance of Otherness\n    4. The Joys of Queer\n    5. Transgender Dialogues\n    6. Back to Gender?\n    7. The Future of Gender\n  10. 3 Genes and Gender: The Return to Darwin\n    1. Science versus Culture?\n    2. Survival and Sexual Selection\n    3. Evolutionary Psychology: The New Contender\n    4. The Tale of the Female Ape\n    5. Theoretical Pluralists: The Enemy Within\n    6. Gene Talk versus Social Change\n    7. For Epistemic Diversity\n  11. 4 Psychic Life and its Scandals\n    1. Tricks of Memory\n    2. Dilemmas of Science\n    3. Troubled Vision\n    4. Feminist Denunciations\n    5. Fantasy versus Trauma\n    6. Models of Memory\n    7. Memory as Narrative\n    8. Betrayal versus Abuse?\n    9. Narratives in Context\n  12. 5 Gender Anxieties at the Limits of Psychology\n    1. Feminism Enters the Academy\n    2. Still Searching for Sex Differences\n    3. Feminist Psychology and Social Constructionism\n    4. Openness to Gender Heterodoxy\n    5. The Predicament of Men\n    6. Projects for Reforming Masculinity\n    7. Deconstructing Gender\n    8. Subjectivity and Change\n  13. 6 Cautionary Tales: Between Freud and Feminism\n    1. Opening Skirmishes\n    2. Imagining the Void\n    3. Oedipal Dramas and the Crisis of Paternal Authority\n    4. The First Bond and its Consequences\n    5. Retrenchment versus Renewal?\n    6. Sexual Difference versus Gender: Accepting Ambiguity\n  14. 7 Only Contradictions on Offer: Feminism at the Millennium\n    1. Snapshots of Gender\n    2. The Subject of Dependency\n    3. Family Values\n    4. Sweeping Anti-statism\n    5. Switching to the Subject\n    6. Activist Challenges\n    7. Disciplinary Feminism\n    8. Cultural Imperatives\n    9. Feminism without Politics\n    10. Political Futures\n  15. Notes\n  16. Index\n  17. Wiley End User License Agreement\n\n## Pages\n\n  1. ii\n  2. iii\n  3. iv\n  4. viii\n  5. \n  6. \n  7. \n  8. \n  9. \n  10. \n  11. \n  12. \n  13. \n  14. \n  15. \n  16. \n  17. \n  18. \n  19. \n  20. \n  21. \n  22. \n  23. \n  24. \n  25. \n  26. \n  27. \n  28. \n  29. \n  30. \n  31. \n  32. \n  33. \n  34. \n  35. \n  36. \n  37. \n  38. \n  39. \n  40. \n  41. \n  42. \n  43. \n  44. \n  45. \n  46. \n  47. \n  48. \n  49. \n  50. \n  51. \n  52. \n  53. \n  54. \n  55. \n  56. \n  57. \n  58. \n  59. \n  60. \n  61. \n  62. \n  63. \n  64. \n  65. \n  66. \n  67. \n  68. \n  69. \n  70. \n  71. \n  72. \n  73. \n  74. \n  75. \n  76. \n  77. \n  78. \n  79. \n  80. \n  81. \n  82. \n  83. \n  84. \n  85. \n  86. \n  87. \n  88. \n  89. \n  90. \n  91. \n  92. \n  93. \n  94. \n  95. \n  96. \n  97. \n  98. \n  99. \n  100. \n  101. \n  102. \n  103. \n  104. \n  105. \n  106. \n  107. \n  108. \n  109. \n  110. \n  111. \n  112. \n  113. \n  114. \n  115. \n  116. \n  117. \n  118. \n  119. \n  120. \n  121. \n  122. \n  123. \n  124. \n  125. \n  126. \n  127. \n  128. \n  129. \n  130. \n  131. \n  132. \n  133. \n  134. \n  135. \n  136. \n  137. \n  138. \n  139. \n  140. \n  141. \n  142. \n  143. \n  144. \n  145. \n  146. \n  147. \n  148. \n  149. \n  150. \n  151. \n  152. \n  153. \n  154. \n  155. \n  156. \n  157. \n  158. \n  159. \n  160. \n  161. \n  162. \n  163. \n  164. \n  165. \n  166. \n  167. \n  168. \n  169. \n  170. \n  171. \n  172. \n  173. \n  174. \n  175. \n  176. \n  177. \n  178. \n  179. \n  180. \n  181. \n  182. \n  183. \n  184. \n  185. \n  186. \n  187. \n  188. \n  189. \n  190. \n  191. \n  192. \n  193. \n  194. \n  195. \n  196. \n  197. \n  198. \n  199. \n  200. \n  201. \n  202. \n  203. \n  204. \n  205. \n  206. \n  207. \n  208. \n  209. \n  210. \n  211. \n  212. \n  213. \n  214. \n  215. \n  216. \n  217. \n  218. \n  219. \n  220. \n  221. \n  222. \n  223. \n  224. \n  225. \n  226. \n  227. \n  228. \n  229. \n  230. \n  231. \n  232. \n  233. \n  234. \n  235. \n  236. \n  237. \n  238. \n  239. \n  240. \n  241. \n  242. \n  243. \n  244. \n  245. \n  246. \n  247. \n  248. \n  249. \n  250. \n  251. \n  252. \n  253. \n  254. \n  255. \n  256. \n  257. \n  258. \n  259. \n  260. \n  261. \n  262. \n  263. \n  264. \n  265. \n  266. \n  267. \n  268. \n  269. \n  270. \n  271. \n  272. \n  273. \n  274. \n  275. \n  276. \n  277. \n  278. \n  279. \n  280. \n  281. \n  282. \n  283. \n  284. \n  285. \n  286. \n  287. \n  288. \n  289. \n  290.\n\nFor Peter\n\n# WHY FEMINISM?\n\nGender, Psychology, Politics\n\nLYNNE SEGAL\n\nPolity Press\nCopyright \u00a9 Lynne Segal 1999\n\nThe right of Lynne Segal to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.\n\nReprinted 2002, 2005\n\nPolity Press  \n65 Bridge Street  \nCambridge CB2 1UR, UK\n\nPolity Press  \n350 Main Street  \nMalden, MA 02148, USA\n\nAll rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher.\n\nExcept in the United States of America, this book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher's prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.\n\nISBN 0-7456-2346-8\n\nISBN 0-7456-2347-6 (pbk)\n\nA catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.\n\nTypeset in 11 on 13 pt Berling\n\nby Ace Filmsetting Ltd, Frome, Somerset\n\nPrinted and bound in Great Britain by Marston Book Services Limited, Oxford\n\nThis book is printed on acid-free paper.\n\nFor further information on Polity, visit our website: www.polity.co.uk Contents\n\n# Acknowledgments\n\nFewer people than usual helped me with this book, which says something about these times. As pressures to publish from within the administration of academic space encounter the shrinking possibilities for cross-over writing with mainstream publishers, and the fractiousness between feminists is matched by the decline in collective political engagements, I wasn't confident I could manage to write at all any more: no longer sure of whom I would be writing for, or why. But I am still lucky enough to find myself within networks in which feminism, and often even socialism, are lifetime commitments, which continue to inspire me. I would like to thank John Fletcher, Catherine Hall, Katherine Johnson, Cora Kaplan, Loretta Loach, Mandy Merck, David Newson, Sheila Rowbotham, Alan Sinfield, Barbara Taylor, Ruth Thackeray and Leonore Tiefer for advice, assistance or encouragement. I am very grateful for the support of my editor David Held. Above all, I value the love, generosity and rigorous red pen of Peter Osborne, without whom...\n\n# Introduction: Why Feminism?\n\nWhy is feminism still so contentious? Feminism grew too big for its marching boots in the closing years of the 1970s; since then, many of its exponents have taken a more reflexive turn. But the anxiety it generates has far from dissipated. Indeed, feminists even frighten each other. Today, maverick voices emerge on all sides, rebuking a politics they claim to espouse. 'Many a monster can march about flying the banner of \"freedom\" or \"feminism\"', philosopher Jean Bethke Elshtain alleges from the USA \u2013 condemning women who do not subordinate their own rights to the welfare of their children. In these pages, I try to make sense of the _m\u00e9lange_ of contemporary feminism. I wonder whether we can still look to it for a confrontational and broadly transformative politics and culture, or whether it has become little more than a blip in the march of economic neo-liberalism.\n\nIt is hard to avoid either idealizing or trashing one's past, feeding the unruly envy between and within political generations. It is harder still, and obviously foolhardy, to engage in any form of futurology. In all social movements, once the excitement of finding a new collective identity begins to ebb, everyday politics becomes a more discouraging, even tedious affair; a matter of competing interests and conflicting alliances. It never remains the revelation which first inspired new levels of self-confidence and hope, as it was when women's liberation erupted into the lives of many women at the close of the 1960s. Yesterday's visionaries are today's scapegoats, when not newly tamed and domesticated.\n\nThe declining passion for politics evident in many veteran feminists, accompanying the frank rejection of feminism by many young women, is part of a wider 'exhaustion of utopian energies' since the 1980s, a time often described as 'post-socialist', if not 'post-political'. There is a firm consensus at the close of the twentieth century that little, if anything, remains of a socialist left capable of winning popular support for its vision of a more egalitarian future. The verdict on feminism, and its now diverse aspirations, is more ambivalent. Its promotion of women's interests is usually endorsed in mainstream politics, while still anxiously traduced on every side. But the inequalities and divisions between women themselves have dramatically deepened, while many of the problems which energized feminists into collective action in the 1970s everywhere persist. This is both despite, and because of, the many gains achieved by women throughout the century. Some were consciously fought for; others were the more ambiguous, unintended consequences of changes in capitalism \u2013 pushing women into the future first, as exemplary low-paid, flexible workers.\n\nIndeed, current debates are obsessed with gender contrasts and conflicts, often packaged as slanging matches between feminists themselves: 'movement' feminists, like British old-timer Bea Campbell, are pitted against American 'celebrity' feminists\/anti-feminists, like Camille Paglia. Here women's political differences can be made to service antithetical desires: serious interest in gender issues _and_ the satisfaction of misogynist expectation. However dubious its delivery, though, there is no doubting the continuing social centrality of gender anxieties \u2013 whether triggered by family breakdown, new 'laddism', teenage pregnancy or some other form of sexual or social panic. This means that as a feminist it is hard to remain detached from the political arena, whether or not one feels able to preserve or refashion one's political visions or, harder still, one's collective engagements.\n\nYet, we must persist, why _feminism?_ Is the time for the renewal of feminism not long past, given the remarkable shifts in gender relations? Gender disruptions are indeed ubiquitous, as I illustrate throughout this book, but surely men are now often its victims, whether in the classroom, the workplace or the divorce courts. Moreover, publishers (especially feminist ones) have been suggesting that 'there is no market any more for specifically feminist books'. But that is only part of the story. Books about women? That is quite another matter. They are in huge demand. Never has more been written about the concerns of women. Nor has so much anxiety been manifest on the threat they pose to the serenity of men. At a time when gender distinctions have been disrupted and denaturalized everywhere, through the combined forces of economic, political and quite literal biomedical interventions, the question of women's difference and distinctive dispositions remains paramount. The dismantling of gender archetypes provokes their perpetual rearticulation, as I show in chapter 2. With feminism posed against women, and gender posed against politics, what in the world do we make of 'feminism' today?\n\nA mere generation ago, it caused little surprise when the American poet Adrienne Rich declared feminism a renaissance 'far more extraordinary and influential' in shifting perspectives than the effects of the move from theology to humanism in the European Renaissance. Partisan, for sure. But the decades of resurgent feminism did fundamentally transform our perceptions of both present and past. They threw up some revolutionary conceptions of the future in the process. Today, that word \u2013 the new 'f-word' \u2013 is in free fall, often arousing little more than a yawn. 'Feminism is boring', the British journalist Polly Toynbee moans, summing up the abiding apprehensions of her peers, women influential in the mainstream media. Boring, perhaps, but still capable of stirring up enormous animosity, and never left to rest in peace.\n\nSuitably distanced from feminism's supposedly dour defenders, Toynbee herself proceeds to produce a thoughtful summary of why women need feminism: continuing inequalities in their earnings, the difficulties of being torn between careers and children, their greater vulnerability to domestic violence and rape, especially when most financially dependent on a man \u2013 as the mothers of young children. Pass\u00e9, predictable, prosaic; yet the common sense of our age. Who wants yesterday's slogans? Who wants yesterday's woman? In fact, it is not just feminism, but participation in the public terrain of politics itself which is now commonly dismissed as 'boring', or assumed to be motivated by an exclusive self-interest, in a world where individualism has intensified with an awesome vengeance, demolishing most of its erstwhile critics; or at least, those whose politics cannot be reduced to the vivid provocation of rebellious lifestyles. The irony is that current forms of feminism display an extraordinary endurance and diversity; so varied, indeed, that common ground can be hard to find.\n\nWhat is feminism? Who is a feminist? Contention rather than accord is what we must explore in answering such questions today. This is a perplexing situation for those who identified with a movement which, during its activist peak, preferred to operate through consensus. Moving on from the burning questions, bonfires and street parades, the change in the self-conception of the women's movement was the beginning of an always ambivalent slide into the cultural mainstream: goodbye to 'Women's Liberation', with its clenched fist, its militant slogans and joyful songs ('The Women's Army is Marching'); hello to 'feminism', with its diffuse theoretical underpinnings and performative uncertainties ('doing feminism', 'doing gender'). 'Could you please say a few sentences without using the word \"struggle\"?', interviewers of feminists in the mid-1970s used to ask, when we held forth on our goals and aspirations, believing that we could work to better the lives of women everywhere. 'Could you please tell me what your struggle for health, housing, clean water, union recognition [or some other bread-and-butter issue], has to do with feminism?', one might easily hear today.\n\nThe difference is context. As I explore in my opening chapter, the women's liberation movement emerged at the close of the 1960s in critical dialogue with a broader left movement fighting for a more egalitarian world. Even in the USA, where more conventionally liberal movements, like the National Organization of Women, were always stronger than in Britain, one prominent wing of the movement was militantly leftist and radical. In the three decades of second-wave feminism, as I trace out in subsequent chapters, one can discern the successive dominance of three distinct styles and viewpoints, although earlier outlooks continue \u2013 often angrily \u2013 to contest more modish replacements. During the foundation and spread of the women's movement in the 1970s, there was an emphasis on women's shared needs, and struggles to end gender inequalities and cultural subordination. This turned into a dual and contradictory prioritizing of women's distinct 'difference' alongside recognition of multiple differences between women in the 1980s, accompanying the entrenchment of divisions within feminism itself. Subsequently, there has been a shift towards discursive analyses of the instability of _all_ identities and differences, as feminist theory found a home in the post-structuralist academy of the 1990s.\n\nOne explanation of the shift in feminist consciousness and priorities suggests that the early women's liberationist search for social transformation came up against women's own subjective resistance to change. Women's internalized submissiveness or nurturing sensitivities may, or may not, prove genuine enough. But the turn inward, often to psychoanalysis, was part of something wider. It was never going to be easy to persuade individual men to change, but it was going to be far harder to undermine the interconnecting worlds of home, jobs and cultural and public life which overwhelmingly reflect the principle of male authority. Nevertheless, in my view, feminism's distinct legacy still lies in its potential, however complex and difficult, to connect personal and cultural issues to economic and political affairs. This is why in this book I move back and forth between explorations of gender dynamics at the social and political level and attempts to theorize differences, identities and subjectivities in the psychological and symbolic domains. Throughout, I am seeking ways of negotiating the increasingly bitter tension between feminist activisms and academic feminisms \u2013 often misleadingly reduced to clashes between the economic versus the cultural; maldistribution versus misrecognition.\n\nIn my lifetime, feminists have always been interested in the autobiographies of women, hunting down the words of their foremothers and constructing their own tales of personal struggle and survival, whether in the quest for self-enlightenment or for solidarity with other women. In the most recent flowering of the genre, women academics have taken to writing their memoirs. And if their narratives display somewhat less disadvantage and hardship than many that preceded them, their proliferation carries its own story of the contradictions of feminism at the close of the twentieth century. These are times in which a woman \u2013 even, or perhaps especially, a fem-inist \u2013 can be accused of abusing her institutionalized power: an authority which she wields, not so much in the familiar female sphere of the family, as in the once seamlessly male world of the academy, or some other public position. The autobiographical writing of that most ostentatiously undutiful daughter of feminism, Jane Gallop, _Feminist Accused of Sexual Harassment_ (1997), springs immediately to mind. But she is joined by a host of other women memoirists of the 1990s, whose world is the university: today's most prestigous stronghold of feminist practice. What the feminist academic memoir brings to that world is a focus on the personal. Ironically, the more some women seem to be winning old gender battles, power-dressing for their jobs in the professional world, and narrowing the gender differences affecting their daily lives, the stronger the affirmation of women's unique affiliation to personal life. As Calista Flockhart \u2013 pocketing her millions from portraying the winsome, emotionally wobbly, lawyer, Ally McBeal \u2013 assures us, women can't 'have it all': 'I don't think there's an answer here, just anxiety and conflict'.\n\nWomen can't have it all, no doubt; and the political never did reduce to such dreams of personal transcendence. But in exploring the paradoxes of gender in this book I seek to promote a combination of theoretical questioning and political engagements which might enable more women to share in the self-questioning, the pleasures and, above all, the solidarities and egalitarian settlements that feminism, at its most generous, regards as the birthright of women everywhere.\n\nUsing conflicts over 'gender' as my key symbolic site, I see the cultural fluidities of sexual and gender identity celebrated in recent post-structuralist and queer feminist readings mocked by the return of a Darwinian fundamentalism and the rise of genetic determinism in popular culture and much of the social sciences. Fierce controversies over memory and trauma return us to the promise and the perils of relying upon the light that Freud seemed to shine on the strange working of the mind: rarely matched, however, by attention to the power relations and normative frames in which the language of desire is acquired, suppressed and distorted. In the 1970s feminists demanded public recognition of the extent of child sexual abuse; today, saturated with sensationalized tales of victimhood and abuse, some now deplore the curiously depoliticized fate of their protests when exploited by the media, or used to consolidate the need for expert advice and healing.\n\nMainstream culture has found many ways of accommodating feminism, ranging from the endorsement of women as sexually vulnerable and abused, through the managerial appropriation of equal opportunities to hypocritical applause for women's supposed caring virtues and values. What we have yet to see is movement towards fairer and more caring societies, whatever the rhetoric of New Labour in Britain or the machinations of Clinton in Washington. Approaching the millennium, media outlets select their favourite figures to assess the impact of three decades of feminism, hoping for simple messages which can be repackaged as new and contentious. They are easy to find. From one side, Germaine Greer wades in to announce that women today are regularly, even increasingly, demeaned and damaged, especially in sex with men: 'For all our liberation talk, rich, modern, western woman is continually, repeatedly mutilated'. She echoes the enthusiastically embraced gloom of another populist, white, Western feminist, drowning us in her rhetoric of the destruction of women's achievements in the twenty-first century: 'Feminists will be visible only in pornographic scenarios as stereotypically cartoonish uppity women, made happy and normal through rape'. From the opposite side, Rosalind Coward contends that it is time for Western feminists to stop viewing women as oppressed, because she sees instead 'situations where men are really becoming vulnerable and women potent'. In fact, feminism could still offer us something far richer than such simplistic gender-polarizing polemic.\n\nAs funding for welfare shrinks, the working day lengthens, inequality deepens and political protest is everywhere muted, it is women and children in particular who remain at the cutting edge of the contradictions between work and welfare markets and morality. Certain groups of men are known to be 'failing' today, both at school and in the job market, with destructive consequences. These consequences are all the more destructive because of the effects of gender: the assumption that men should always be the dominant sex. When wider questions of social inequality and gender justice are posed alongside problems of identities and belonging, the domain of feminism immediately expands. It is such a feminism which I believe we still need: we need the continuing provocation which its inquiries can still arouse; we need its collective efforts to find solutions when the dreams and realities of specific groups of women and men are most awry; we need its potential, at its most thoughtful, to embrace complexity and conflict in the experiences of individual women and men, as the resilience of images of masculinity as power are shaken by the actualities of shifting gender dynamics and the fragilities of gendered and sexual identities. Drawing primarily on the Anglo-American experience, _Why Feminism?_ attempts to lay out the potentialities and pitfalls of feminist consciousness for the century ahead.\n\n# 1  \nGenerations of Feminism\n\n> Politics makes comics of us all. Or we would weep.\n> \n> Sheila Rowbotham, _Dreams and Dilemmas_\n\nI have been thinking for some time now about relations between political generations and the enduring impact of those formative moments which first enable us to make some sense of the world, and our place within it \u2013 an unjust and shabby world, whatever our personal circumstances. Such moments remain all the more powerful if, like many of my own generation who became students in the 1960s, you have hoped \u2013 with whatever levels of scepticism and self-mockery \u2013 to participate in the making of history. They leave their mark, even as changing times cause one to rethink, perhaps even to renounce, one's former political presumptions. Yet what often leaves erstwhile political crusaders with little more than mournful and confusing feelings of loss and regret \u2013 whatever our capacities for irony \u2013 is the way in which new narratives emerge as collective memories fade, writing-over those which once incited our most passionate actions.\n\nSo it has been with Women's Liberation, that second wave of feminism which arose out of the upsurge of radical and socialist politics in the late 1960s. It grew rapidly as a mass social movement, peaking in the mid-1970s before dissolving as a coherent organization by the end of that decade. It affected the lives of millions of women. Over a quarter of a century later, however, the sparse amount of thoughtful scholarship analysing the distinctiveness of that upsurge of feminist activism must struggle for attention amidst a glut of texts delineating its contemporary academic progeny \u2013 largely scornful of its rougher parent, and the motley basements, living-rooms, workplaces and community centres in which it was hatched. This is not just a female Oedipal tale, as disobedient daughters distance themselves from their mothers' passions, seeking recognition for themselves. It is also a sibling affair, as feminists contend with each other; fearful, perhaps, of being overlooked should we fail to keep abreast of new theoretical fashions, or else unable to admit the inadequacies and contradictions of past attachments.\n\n## _Acts of Memory_\n\nA small band of feminist historians, mostly in the USA, who _are_ trying to recapture the diversity of the movement in which they participated, declare that they cannot recognize themselves, or others, in what they see as the distorting accounts of Women's Liberation circulating in contemporary feminism. Rosalyn Baxandall and Linda Gordon, for example, are gathering material for a multi-volume collection of literature from the movement in the USA. They are joined by others interested in archiving the local histories of Women's Liberation, such as Patricia Romney, documenting a group of fifty women of colour based in New York and Oakland, California, who \u2013 along with other black activists in the sixties and seventies \u2013 became the forgotten women who 'fell down the well' (as Carolyn Heilbrun puts it) in subsequent rewritings of women's liberation as exclusively white. These historians are well aware of the dangers of their proximity to their own research, of how memories are muted or reshaped by subsequent perspectives and interests, whether one's own or those of younger recorders. At a recent symposium on the history of women's liberation in the USA, Margaret Strobel recounted that even when rereading her _own_ diaries and letters she is amazed at their failure to match her current recollections of the events she recorded there.\n\nReading our own histories through the interpretations of others can be more unsettling still. Awareness of the tricks of memory, and the dearth of thoughtful reflections on a remarkable period of feminist activism fast being forgotten, prompted two other veteran US feminists, Rachel DuPlessis and Ann Snitow, to embark upon their own memoir project: not in search of 'truth unmodified', but to seek out the ambiguities and ambivalences with which those who gave birth to the movement would now recall their engagement in its past. Open, questioning and self-critical, as they introduce the rich and varied collection which ensues, they nevertheless argue compellingly that caricature and forgetting is the greater danger haunting women's political actions: 'For amnesia about political movements is not only an innocent effect of general forgetfulness, but is socially produced, packaged, promulgated, and perpetuated.' I agree. It is extraordinary \u2013 exciting and troubling in equal measure \u2013 to read these distinct and divergent accounts from women whose lives were shaped by their belief that collective action could (and, for a while, did) transform everything, from personal lives to workplace conditions, social policy, the law and almost every aspect of culture. It is important, if only to realize quite how strange their rhetoric and sensibilities appear in the current political climate; the words not so much of another generation, with less sophisticated ideas, as of another species.\n\nAs if foreseeing this impression, Meredith Tax mourns: 'I feel like one of the last surviving members of a nearly extinct species \u2013 the committed left-wing feminist'. Although still working successfully to promote women's writing and struggles through the international forum Women's WORLD (Women's World Organization for Rights, Literature and Development) which she helped to found in the 1990s, Tax knows she can no longer make her own voice heard at home. A pointed reminder of changing times, at least for those aware that it was she who published one of the earliest underground classics of women's liberation, _Woman and her Mind: The Story of Everyday Life_ (1970), which sold 150,000 copies in pamphlet form around the world. I could quote from it to this day.\n\nContemporary texts reviewing recent feminist history provide sobering examples of how the past is read through the concerns of the present: invalidating earlier meanings and projects as well as erasing their heterogeneity. Moreover, the displacement of former struggles and perspectives is all the more disconcerting when contemporary theorists, starting off from an abhorrence of binary logics and a scepticism about all attempts to generalize, go on to draw false contrasts and make reckless generalizations of their own. It is this which startles me when I read accounts of the distance self-proclaimed 'nineties' feminism has travelled from women's liberation, and what now appears neatly homogenized as 'seventies' feminism.\n\n## _Dubious Contrasts_\n\nA distinguished British collection of feminist thought, edited by Mich\u00e8le Barrett and Anne Phillips, _Destabilizing Theory_ (1992), highlights what it refers to as 'the gulf between feminist theory of the 1970s and 1990s'. It opens with the assertion: 'In the past twenty years the founding principles of contemporary western feminism have been dramatically changed, with previously shared assumptions and unquestioned orthodoxies relegated almost to history'. Quite so. But just what is being dispatched here? Was it all of a piece? And is it equally anachronistic for contemporary feminists?\n\n'Seventies' feminism is criticized for its 'false certainties'; its search for structural causes of women's oppression (indeed for its very notion of 'oppression'); its belief in women's shared interests (indeed, its very attachment to the notion of 'women' or 'woman'), and so forth. 'Nineties' feminism, in contrast, has replaced what is seen as the naive search for the social or material causes of women's oppression by complex elaborations of the discursively produced, hierarchical constitution of an array of key concepts: sexual difference in particular, binary oppositions in general, and the hetero\/sexualized mapping of the body as a whole. _Destabilizing Theory_ rejects what it proclaims to be the assumptions of 'Enlightenment' thought: 'a notion of a powerful and self-conscious political subject, a belief in reason and rationality, in social and political progress, in the possibility of grand schemes of social reform'. It is impressively cautious about the 'ambiguous status of theory', yet it still risks a few generalizations of its own: tending towards a totalizing dismissal of 'seventies' feminism, and the reduction of _dissimilar projects_ to common ground: 'Feminists have moved from grand theory to local studies, from cross-cultural analysis of patriarchy to the complex and historical interplay of sex, race and class, from notions of a female identity or the interests of women towards the instability of female identity and the active creation and recreation of women's needs and concerns.'\n\nA comparable tension can be found in an American collection aiming 'to call into question and problematize the presumptions of some feminist discourse': _Feminists Theorize the Political_ (1992), edited by Judith Butler and Joan Scott. Its introductory essay is also cautious about drawing comparisons between different phases of feminism, aware that contrasting 'post-modern' feminism with an earlier 'modernist' feminism buys into precisely the conceits of modernity itself, sharing all its enthusiasm for identification with the 'new' and over-confident renunciation of the 'old'. (Although it is surely a strange hostage to fortune to insist, on its opening page, that '\"post-structuralism\" indicates a field of critical practices that cannot be totalized'.) Circumspect and equivocal as Butler characteristically is, habitually preferring the interrogative to the more vulnerable affirmative mode, her influential writing is always _read_ as primarily deconstructive, privileging regulatory semiotic or semantic issues around 'subjectivity', 'identity' and 'agency'. Here, she insists that: 'To recast the referent as the signified, and to authorize or safeguard the category of women as a site of possible resignifications is to expand the possibilities of what it means to be a woman and in this sense to condition and enable an enhanced sense of agency'. Butler is certainly right to stress that 'what women signify has been taken for granted for too long'. But, in calling for 'the conditions to _mobilize the signifier_ in the service of an alternative production', she delineates a project which is distinctly different from the close attention to social _structures, relations_ and _practices_ which an earlier feminist project prioritized in pursuit of political-economic restructuring, and the transformation of public life and welfare.\n\nWhen women joined campaigns in support of demands for nurseries, reproductive rights, education and skill training; to assist women fighting low pay, discrimination and 'harassment' at work, violence and sexual abuse at home, militarism worldwide; to fight racism, legacies of imperialism and work within Third World development projects; found the women's health movement, and so on and so forth, they were engaged in 'an alternative production'. The sudden collectively confident embrace, or alarming display, of hitherto demeaned descriptions of womanhood \u2013 gaudily paraded on countless banners, T-shirts and badges \u2013 was certainly very much part of the process: 'The category \"women\", so fresh and surprising on that fictive but evocative Day One of the Second Wave, is familiar now, to some an oversimplication, to others banality'. The way representation carves out reality and moulds action is central to all political activity. None the less, a feminism which _begins_ with the textual practice of re-theorizing signifiers of subjectivity is one which is _incommensurate_ with, as well as distanced from, the perspectives and practices of Women's Liberation. It is simply not the same project, however sympathetic to many of those earlier goals someone like Butler clearly is. As others have noticed, the commitment to heterogeneity, multiplicity and difference underlying recent feminist theorizing can anomalously disguise a hegemonizing dismissal of theoretical frameworks not _explicitly_ informed by post-stucturalism. Joan Scott, at times, seems to exemplify this form of exclusion of theoretical diversity when she attacks 'resistance to poststructuralist theory' as resistance to 'theory' itself: 'Since it is in the nature of feminism to disturb the ground it stands on, even its own ground, _the resistance to theory_ is a resistance to the most radical effects of feminism itself'.\n\nHere is the problem: contemporary feminist theorizing rarely acknowledges the time and the place of political ideas. It addresses only abstract _theories_ and their refutation. It operates with an idea of the history of feminism as the evolution of academic theory and debate. Tellingly, both the British and North American feminist collections I have mentioned offer their readers a full index of _names_ \u2013 in which, incidentally, extraordinarily few of the influential feminist names of the 1970s appear \u2013 but no index of _topics._ In the Blackwell textbook _Feminist Thought,_ by Patricia Clough, dedicated to 'Women around the World Resisting Oppression, Domination, and Exploitation', there _is_ a context index, but interestingly neither hint nor whisper of abortion or reproductive rights, housework, childcare, nurseries, welfare provision, immigration, marriage, the family, poverty, the state, employment, trade unions, healthcare or violence against women. There is pornography, autobiography, film theory, literary criticism, Woman, Native, Other. However you cross-reference it, just a few aspects of women's actual resistance 'around the world' seem to have gone missing in this nineties text. Almost no effort is made to refer back to the activities and goals of Women's Liberation in these books, only an attempt to contrast theoretical positions as ideal types.\n\nThe reason is, of course, that this is an easy way to _teach_ feminism as an academic topic. But you cannot translate the time of theory and its fashions into political history, without absurd caricature: concealing conflicting perceptions and nuances with each categorical tag. Thus early Women's Liberation becomes, for example, a 'feminism of the subject', when it was not a theory about subjectivity at all \u2013 however much it concerned women struggling to make themselves visible in quite new ways. It is almost always described as a theory of 'equality', rather than of 'difference', when it was neither of these things \u2013 the one usually presented as merely an inversion of the other. Both of these descriptions miss the point. Women's Liberation in its heyday was a _theory and practice of social transformation_ : full of all the embroiled and messy actions, hostilities and compromises of collective political engagement. For the most part, it manoeuvred within a broader culture of the left: refusing to separate women off from wider struggles against inequality and subordination, but fighting the perpetual marginalization or neglect of what were often women's most specific interests and concerns. It endlessly debated questions of priorities, organization and alliances in the attempt to enrich women's lives and connect with other radical projects (heatedly discussing the varied \u2013 often opposed \u2013 interests of different groups of women, especially the most vulnerable). In the process, it transformed the very concept of the 'political', giving women a central place within it.\n\nMy sense of the recent history of feminism, in particular of the socialist-feminist strand of Women's Liberation flourishing in Britain in the early seventies, conflicts with Julia Kristeva's often cited stagist mapping of three generations of feminist thought, in her famous essay 'Women's Time', first published in 1979. There she depicts the first wave of feminism as a time when women, using a 'logic of identification', pursued liberal, egalitarian ends, followed by the emergence of a militant second phase, which rejected all 'patriarchal' thought and practice, attempting to create 'counter-societies' constructed around mythical notions of womanhood. This is the now familiar erection of a binary division between 'equality' feminism, followed by its opposite, 'difference' feminism: women first seek inclusion in, and later exclusion from, the masculine symbolic order. Drawing upon Derrida, Kristeva proposes a _third_ generation of feminism, which is critical of the binary of sexual difference itself, since 'it is now possible to gain some distance on these two preceding generations of women'. Toril Moi would later label and promote Kristeva's three stages as 'liberal', 'radical' and 'post-' feminism, again criticizing what she identified as the humanistic and essentialist errors of the first two stages of feminism, in order to advocate the theoretical work of post-feminist deconstruction.\n\nYet, as I hope to show, although they never used the rhetoric of deconstruction, the third stage now being labelled 'post-feminism' is not so removed from where many second-wave feminists came in. Attempting to avoid the problems of straightforward inclusion in, or exclusion from, the masculine symbolic order and a world organized primarily around men's interests was the problem many feminists tried to tackle all along (although using different conceptual tools, some borrowed from Sartre and de Beauvoir; some from Marx, Freud, Reich, Gramsci or Marcuse). The contrasts are not always as significant as recent re-tellings suggest. Here are the words of one feminist writer and activist who was for a few years tremendously influential as an inaugurator of _'stage one'_ of second-wave feminism, looking at her own first attempt to articulate feminism, thirty years on: 'When I read it over, despite all that has happened since, the intensity of loneliness returns. It was like walking over a moor in the mist, trying to speak, with the words sticking half formed in your throat. Such difficulty finding appropriate words, really a new political language, is not so surprising.' But then this writer, as we shall see, also knows how easily simplistic readings overwrite earlier formulations: 'perceptions can be there one minute, and gone the next'; 'as the years go by, what was once a contemporary account comes to reveal a particular historical moment, not simply because of what is said but in the very way it is written'.\n\n## _Rowbotham's 'Seventies' Feminism_\n\nIn my view, the most useful \u2013 and perhaps the only meaningful \u2013 way to think about the similarities and differences between different generations of feminism is by reflecting upon what defines a political generation and what smashes its hopes and dreams. On an International Women's Day march in the early seventies, Sheila Rowbotham carried a placard that read: **'Equal Pay is Not Enough. We want the Moon'.** (File under equal rights feminism? Perhaps not. Is the moon here a symbol of female difference? Not likely.) We got neither, as she wrote a decade later, but the radical heritage of Women's Liberation continues, she argued, whenever feminists work to realize the dream 'that all human beings can be _more_ than present circumstances allow'. That vision is not one of equal rights. It was called 'socialism' and it was being reshaped to service feminism.\n\nI want to focus on Sheila Rowbotham's writing as she has been one of the most careful chroniclers (and continuing committed exponents) of Women's Liberation in Britain, in the hope that it may be, as she puts it, 'neither falsely valued nor undervalued', but that feminists might reflect back upon 'the hurly-burly of battle, draw clarity from real muddles and learn from our mistakes.' Dream on!, one might feel, in these new comprehensively market-driven, mean-spirited times. Since memories find resonance only in pertinent contexts, Rowbotham adds, if you 'ignore the humdrum you fall into arrogance'. Rowbotham was one of the many inspirational voices of seventies feminism consciously attempting to create 'a movement which is confident, gleeful, generous and loving', even while already knowing that any such oppositional activity can have costly overheads which drain and exhaust the spirit. It was her lonely search to find the then unfamiliar words which could express her personal alienation, as one of the exceptionally few women trying to set down her thoughts in the sexist world of radical politics in the late 1960s, which resulted in the first pamphlet on Women's Liberation to be published in Britain \u2013 in January 1969. And it was she who proposed the first Women's Liberation conference in Britain, which occurred at Ruskin College in Oxford the following year. Most importantly, for my purposes here, it was her books which were read by tens of thousands of feminists throughout the world in the 1970s. They were hugely influential in the initial years of women's liberation. Moreover, Rowbotham would be criticized, early on, as representing a seventies feminism, unformed by psychoanalysis or structuralism. Today, of course, her flaws would be seen as an inattention to post-structuralism or 'post-modernity' \u2013 that paradoxical twist of modernity, contrarily repudiating linear narratives while depending on one.\n\nJoining the game of textual analysis, I recently re-read some of Rowbotham's books of the 1970s and early 1980s, something I do often to prevent my own long-term memories from dissolving (there seems nothing to be done about the crashing of short-term ones). Ironically, what is extraordinary about Rowbotham's writing is usually quite the reverse of what critics of seventies feminism imagine. It conveys an openness, chronic _lack_ of certainty, an almost infuriating tentativeness, reiteratively asserting: 'What we have developed through action and ideas has always to be subject to reassessment'; or, 'I am too encumbered by the particular to move with grace and delicacy between subjective experience and the broad sweep of social relationships'.\n\nFrom her earliest reflections, Rowbotham describes the search for the roots of women's subordination as a 'perilous and uncertain quest'. Her texts always stress what she calls 'the differing forms and historically specific manifestations of the power men hold over women in particular societies'. They focus sharply on the diversity and situational specificity of women: whether of class, race, employment, domestic situation or (although not at first, as she herself soon notes self-critically) sexual orientation: 'Our own indications are only tentative and incomplete.... Women's liberation is too narrow in social composition to comprehend the differences between middle class and working class, black and white, young and old, married and unmarried, country and townswomen'. Moreover, she writes, in 1972, 'it is clear that most of the isolated gains we can make can be twisted against women and that many partial gains are often a means of silencing one group at the expense of another'. She emphasizes the role of language as one of the crucial instruments of domination:\n\n> As soon as we learn words we find ourselves outside them.... The underground language of people who have no power to define and determine themselves in the world develops its own density and precision.... But it restricts them by affirming their own dependence upon the words of the powerful.... There is a long inchoate period during which the struggle between the language of experience and the language of theory becomes a kind of agony.\n\nIgnorant of post-structuralism Rowbotham may have been, writing these words in her mid-twenties, but not so ignorant, I would suggest, of the issues they address. Moreover, her voice was not a lone one; it feels to me like the remembered buzz in the air, what the women I knew best were tuned in to.\n\nShe tussles (a favourite word) endlessly with the problems of relying on direct experience, seeing it as both a strength and weakness \u2013 again, not so unlike, if less theoretically fine-tuned, than the essay by Joan Scott on the topic in the collection from the USA mentioned above, written twenty years later. She continuously affirms the pointlessness of attempting to pin down the nature of either 'women' or 'men', adding that: 'All revolutionary movements create their own ways of seeing.... But this is a result of great labour'. Her writing, like the forces which drew many women together in the early years of Women's Liberation, reflects the radical left (largely Marxist) thought of the day: 'An emergent female consciousness is part of the specific sexual and social conjuncture, which it seeks to control and transform.' So while questions of subjectivity and identity are most definitely not ignored (and when they appear, are quite as shifting, provisional and contingent as any postmodernist might desire), the goal is always to transform society, to make it a better place for all its members, especially its neediest and, in her words, 'gradually accumulate a shared culture of agitation'. She writes:\n\n> There is democracy in the making of theories which set out to rid the world of hierarchy, oppression and domination. The act of analysis requires more than concepts of sex and class, more than a theory of the subject, it demands that in the very process of thinking we transform the relations between thinker and thought about, theory and experience.... Analysis is not enough alone, for we enter the beings and worlds of other people through imagination, and it is through imagination that we glimpse how these might change.\n\nMany seventies feminists have recalled, like Rowbotham, the imaginative leap when they first began to turn outwards to other women, generating an almost open-ended desire for solidarity with just those women they had hitherto distanced themselves from: 'The mainspring of women's liberation was not a generalised antagonism to men but the positive assertion of new relationships between women, sisterhood'. Socialist feminists argued that while capitalist societies had changed the relative power and privileges of men, they had also consolidated women's inferior status, along with that of a multitude of other historically subordinated groups \u2013 predominantly along racialized and ethnic lines. So while it was not _inconceivable_ that women might gain equality with men in existing capitalist societies, it was thought that this would require such deep levels of cultural, economic and political change that they would already have become societies which were fundamentally different from any we have known.\n\n## _The Collapse of a Vision_\n\nThe state, in socialist-feminist analyses like those of Elizabeth Wilson or Mary McIntosh, was seen as not strictly 'patriarchal', but serving to regulate, and occasionally to restructure, the often contradictory and conflicting needs of a male-dominated market economy and the still intrinsically patriarchal arrangements of family life. It was from such analyses that they set about shaking out and making visible the separate and distinct needs and interests of women (kept hidden by familial rhetoric); campaigned against state policies and discourses which defined and enforced women's dependence on men; demanded an end to the scandalous social neglect of women and children at risk from men's violence; fought for more and better social provision and community resources; all the while seeking alliances with other oppressed groups. Strategic priorities were usually paramount, whether making demands on the state or on the trade unions, and even when elaborating utopian visions of communities and workplaces compatible with choice and flexibility: where the needs of all dependent people would not be hidden away in idealized, yet neglected and isolated, often impoverished, family units.\n\nThis socialist-feminist strand of Women's Liberation, chronicled in books like Rowbotham's _The Past Is Before Us,_ remained an active and influential source of ideas and strategies for promoting women's interests until the mid-1980s, usually working in diverse radical and reformist coalitions with other progressive forces. However, the frustration and defeats of a second term of Conservative rule (1983\u20137), targeting and weakening precisely those nooks and crannies in local government, resource centres and collective spaces which feminists and other radicals had managed to enter, gradually exhausted not only the political hopes, but even the dreams of many.\n\nIn recalling the early achievements of the women's movement in re-launching feminism, we also need to consider its limitations. The bustling energies and tight-knit friendships in the small groups most feminists liked to work within \u2013 even their principled structurelessness \u2013 could make women who didn't fit in feel all the more excluded from the imagined joys of 'sisterhood'. The fierce commitment to ideals of complete equality not only created what could prove inefficient structures, but often triggered suspicion and hostility towards those seen as arrogant or ambitious. The disavowal of envy and competitiveness between women made its concealed expression all the more embittered: 'If you want to be a good feminist, then be a good girl and think about everybody but yourself', as New York feminist Muriel Dimen would later tease those who wrapped themselves in unrealistic feminist rectitude. Above all, looking for shared experiences between women frequently meant disregarding the incongruous or divisive. Again, from the memoirs now emerging in the USA, Joan Nestle reflects how her embrace of feminism as a lesbian in the early 1970s made her a stronger person, who could properly value other women for the first time:\n\n> I learned new ways of seeing my woman's life, new understandings of gender oppression, a new language, but I also learned the boundaries beyond which the politics could not go.... We could talk about sex [but] not about desire. We could talk about work, but not about class as it expressed itself in the groups, most of which were dominated by middle-class women.\n\nTrue. But as Nestle quickly adds, these silences were made to be broken by the insights of feminism itself:\n\n> I realized that my experiences as a sexual deviant had given me insights into certain issues like pornography, prostitution, and gender questioning that while not the prevailing ones in the lesbian feminist seventies and eighties were too important to be buried.\n\nAny myth of women's cosy unity, fighting the combined subordinations of sex, race, class and heterosexism, could never hold for long: to this day, however, many dream of its return, harshly denouncing differing traitors to the cause \u2013 from 'liberals' and 'careerists' to 'purists', 'pornographers' or 'identity fetishists' \u2013 for its absence. Race would prove an even more explosive issue than class and sexual orientation. Poverty and racism were constant preoccupations of women's liberation, both in theory and in practice (especially in the USA, where so many pioneering feminists had emerged out of the civil rights movement), but feminist groups remained overwhelmingly white, and predominantly middle class. Conflict was soon breaking out everywhere, as particular groups of women expressed their sense of exclusion within the movement itself. In the USA Toni Cade's anthology _The Black Woman_ appeared in 1970, and the first National Black Feminist Organization and the Sisterhood of Black Single Mothers were both formed as early as 1973, although organizations of black women and women of colour did not reach their peak until the early 1980s. In Britain, the first black women's conference was held in 1979. As in the USA, the most painful clashes over race would occur in the second decade of resurgent feminism, with black women in both countries challenging the priorities of white feminist analysis over the previous decade: for privileging sexism over racism, and ignoring the particularities of ethnic difference.\n\nNevertheless, trying to learn to listen to, and act upon, black feminist perspectives was not initially a decisive factor in the fading of the socialist-feminist vision in Britain. On the contrary, black feminists then occupied the _same_ political spaces, and pursued largely _similar_ or _parallel_ strategic campaigns for expanding the choice and resources open to black women and their families. The political limitations they saw in what they defined as 'Euro-American' feminism, at that time, as Valerie Amos, Gail Lewis, Amina Mama and Pratibha Parmar made clear in 1984, was that it has 'contributed to an improvement in the material situation of white middle-class women often at the expense of their black and working class \"sisters.\"... The power of sisterhood stops at the point at which hard political decisions need to be made and political priorities decided'. The problem, as Barbara Smith saw it in the USA, was similar: how to 'build a women's movement that addresses the life circumstances and priorities of all women', one she connected with grassroots activism.\n\nThere were without doubt race and class-bound limitations, as well as unrecognized elitisms, prescriptive moralisms and self-policing, in the diverse perspectives and practices of Women's Liberation. But the precarious presumptions and faltering visions of many seventies feminists who yearned for a better world for all, including themselves, often had less to do with dogmatic certitudes, conceptual closure, binary thinking, identity politics or even false universalism, and much more to do with the floundering fortunes of grassroot or movement politics in harsh and unyielding times. The death knell of the seventies feminism I dwelt within was not simply the fall-out of internal conflict and divisions, whether over race, class or sexuality, although they did turn feminist political spaces into stressful combat zones. Rather, coming together as agitators, of whatever sex, race or ethnic specificity, to pursue goals which require, among other things, a more egalitarian and caring world, brought us up against a ferocious, if contradictory and erratic, political opponent. This is something a new generation of academically licensed theorists, turning inwards rather than outwards, often prefer to ignore.\n\nIn New York, veteran campaigner and author Vivian Gornick recalls: 'Then the unthinkable happened. Slowly, around 1980, feminist solidarity began to unravel. As the world had failed to change sufficiently to reflect our efforts, that which had separated all women before began to reassert itself now in us... the discrepancy between desire and actuality was too large to overcome'. Her contemporary trailblazer at the _Village Voice_ is even more convinced that the shift in economic fortunes and political conversation meant that there was soon 'no legitimate public language in which to describe utopian vision and systemic opposition'. In the end, the fundamental limitation of the utopian visions of feminist activists, hoping to transform both themselves and society as well, was our failure to see our own dependence on a wider left politics and social democratic consensus \u2013 whatever their shortcomings. As economic survival became more problematic for many more people, as the public mood shifted and an anti-government, market-driven culture became ever more hegemonic, the social world sustaining progressive thought and practice continued to wither.\n\nSince the 1980s, the ever more deregulated, universalized, interests of global capital have produced deepening social inequalities, nationally and internationally. In the process, they have ensured a significant increase in the pressures of time on most women, and of poverty for some women, even as others, especially when child-free, seem to prosper in the spaces which have opened up for them in the expanding managerial, service and professional world. Some feminists have managed to remain determinedly politically engaged. Having moved on from campaigns into study groups or graduate training, they have helped to create or sustain more focused groups in defence of reproductive rights, fighting for legal change, social policy reform, human rights organizations and Third World women's groups or, especially in the USA, creating centres for training women organizers. In Britain, government institutions, the media, work in education at all levels, have each provided spaces for promoting specific feminist ideas and practices. Black feminists have continued to organize against white racism, and to oppose the rise of religious fundamentalism in some of their own communities, while feminists from diverse backgrounds remain active in fighting against or supporting the survivors of sexual and domestic violence.\n\nNevertheless, times have changed irrevocably. Around 1980 it would have been hard to find a single self-respecting feminist in Britain who had not trekked out to Grunwick's factory in west London, in support of the predominantly Asian women on strike, or at least considered such action. Two decades later, it would be hard to find a self-respecting feminist who had even _heard_ of the predominantly Asian women on strike at Burnsall in Birmingham, as Melissa Benn has noted, over an almost identical set of issues: refusal of union recognition, low pay, and the use of dangerous chemicals; or who would have contemplated supportive action, if they had. As I write, women care workers in Tameside, in Greater Manchester, enter their second year on strike, not just against their own appalling pay and conditions, but just as much to protect the interests of the very vulnerable elderly people who were in their care. Yet there is little national concern from anyone for issues which would once have rallied passionate feminist support. It is true that those women's liberationists with the freedom, time and confidence to plunge into action in support of women facing the harshest forms of exploitation had a certain naivety \u2013 which today would be labelled arrogance \u2013 concerning their own ability to bring about radical change. But, as Rowbotham would later reflect, this was not just self-delusion: 'There was considerable upheaval not only in Europe and the US but globally in these years \u2013 the first symptoms of the fundamental changes which were to take shape from the mid 1970s.'\n\nLooking at a world transformed by feminism, which usually pays lip-service to ideas of equality in both the workplace and the home, intransigent domestic inequalities still mean that 80 per cent of employed wives with young children continue to shoulder most of the burdens of housework. The idealism and audacity with which the young American housewife Alix Kates Shulman could get her husband to sign her detailed Marriage Agreement is something we sorely miss. Published in 1971 in the mainstream women's magazine _Redbook,_ where it generated over 2000 letters of support (followed by front-page derision in the _New York Times Book Review_ from people as eminent as Norman Mailer and Joan Didion), it began: 'We reject the notion that the work which brings in money is more valuable. The ability to earn money is a privilege which must not be compounded by enabling the larger earner to buy out his\/her duties and put the burden either on the partner who earns less or on another person hired from outside.' A different time, a different place. Yet, the failure of such a politics, which could collectively fight for the restructuring of the workplace as well as demand change on the home front, means that an ever expanding group of women add to their increasing overload of work the burden of deeply resenting their husbands, and finding their home lives an arena of conflict and strife. This was the report from the domestic front issued by Arlie Hochschild in her book _The Second Shift_ (1989) and, even more forcefully, after the restructuring of the job-front, in _The Time Bind_ (1997). The legacy of seventies feminism, seen as a movement of social transformation aiming to increase the power and self-determination of women everywhere, is contradictory and diverse. But serious consideration of its successes and failures is grievously absent in most recent theoretical profiles.\n\n## _A New Fundamentalism_\n\nThere is another twist in this tale of two generations of feminism. In terms of the writing-over of earlier feminist narratives, the painful irony is that precisely when deconstruction and other forms of post-structuralism were imprinting themselves on academic feminism \u2013 promoting conceptual uncertainty, political indeterminacy and subjective fluidity \u2013 directly opposing discourses of female victimization, moral certainty and psychic essentialism now were entrenching themselves in a new form of feminist fundamentalism and contested activism in the 1980s. The voices of feminism which survived and gained followers internationally in the 1980s came from its best-known, North American, white spokeswomen, like Robin Morgan and Andrea Dworkin. These no longer expressed anything resembling socialist feminism, with its analysis of specific historical contexts, shifting institutional arrangements, particular social practices or the multiple discourses securing women's inequality and marginality. Rather, ideas denouncing the ageless dominance of 'masculine' values and behaviour were the ones most widely promulgated and seemingly accepted as the voice of feminism. A new and complacent romance around the feminine took precedence in the best-known forms of feminist thought, with women celebrated as essentially nurturing, non-violent and egalitarian; accompanying condemnation of the 'masculine' as ineluctably dominating, destructive and predatory.\n\nIt was this form of so-called 'cultural feminism' which I criticized in _Is the Future Female?_ (1987). The original subtitle of my book, 'Arguments for Socialist Feminism', was rejected by my feminist publisher, Virago Press, as already too unpopular to promulgate, leading to the more neutral 'Troubled Thoughts' of its published subtitle. The simplistic and reductive anti-pornography movement would soon emerge as the single most visible and highly funded feminist campaign of the 1980s \u2013 originating, and always most prominent, in the USA. In attempting (however defectively) to affiliate their gender politics with every other conceivable form of subordination, socialist feminism had generated cumbersome discourses, full of compositional complexities, caveats and uncertainties. Its rhetoric was a world apart from the fire and brimstone of the rising theoretician of anti-pornography feminism, Catharine MacKinnon, who was matched only by her comrade-at-arms, pornography's other foremost foe, Andrea Dworkin. Ironically, but far from coincidentally, the thing which pornographers and anti-pornographers most share is the desire to arouse: to pound an audience with their rhythmic, repetitive images \u2013 although it is only anti-pornographers who fixate on such exceptionally sadistic sexual imagery. The delivery of Dworkin and MacKinnon is evocative of puritan barnstorming down through the ages.\n\nIn my book _Straight Sex_ (1994), I traced the rise of a more pessimistic sexual conservatism within feminist thinking from the close of the 1970s, which insisted, misleadingly, that sexuality was the single overriding cause and manifestation of men's oppression of women \u2013 sprouting from its roots in pornography. Catharine MacKinnon later summarized her contentious rewriting of feminist history: 'feminism is a theory of how the erotization of dominance and submission creates gender, creates woman and man in the social form in which we know them'. Some feminists saw these moves, as I did, as part of a reaction to more conservative times, and the setbacks faced by many forms of feminist activism, especially in the USA, where it originated at the close of the 1970s. 'Pornography', Ann Snitow suggests, became a metaphor for women's defeat. Isolating sexuality and men's violence from other issues of women's poverty, social inequality and domestic overload was not only a defensive tactic for women, but one in perfect harmony with the rising tide of conservative backlash against radical politics more generally. The right has always liked to demonize sexuality, and have us see it as the source of all our ills. This ensured that they would move swiftly into an alliance with anti-pornography feminism. And however vigorously we hear it denied, Dworkin's and MacKinnon's alliance with the moral right is well documented.\n\nMeanwhile, as the 1980s progressed, it was either those, like Catharine MacKinnon, who offered some version of an increasingly totalizing and sanctimonious feminism (clinging to the moral highground of women's marginality and helplessness), or others, like Camille Paglia, with equally totalizing inversions of this position (caricaturing feminism as prudish and puritanical) who found favour with the media. Neither offered any challenge to traditional gender discourses.\n\n## _The Turn to 'Theory'_\n\nIn contrast, at the cutting edge of the new feminist scholarship of the 1980s, these same gender discourses were being broken down and questioned. It is hard to summarize the illuminations and provocations of academic feminism's current embrace of post-structuralist critiques of universalizing thought and emancipatory narratives (to which I return, in one form or another, in most of the following chapters) without courting the danger of homogenizing contemporary theorizing, much as it has erased the complexities of seventies feminism. The appropriation of post-structuralist priorities would inspire what has become known as 'feminist postmodernism', although this conceptually confused and confusing label is not accepted by some of those placed under its banner \u2013 Judith Butler, for one. At least three separate strands of thinking are usually lumped together under this heading \u2013 deriving from Jacques Lacan, Jacques Derrida and Michel Foucault, respectively \u2013 despite their very different implications for feminism.\n\nThe first and for a while the most influential post-Lacanian strand, often simply called, misleadingly, 'French feminism' (which is discussed most fully in chapter 6), restricts its focus to the idea of sexual difference effaced by the spurious unity or wholeness of the Western 'subject' (Man): the white, male bourgeois subject of history who hides behind the abstract universals of the philosophical tradition. It stresses the need to fracture the universal or humanist self through attentiveness to its repressed or marginalized other: 'feminine' difference. Subversively imagined and rewritten as positive, the decentred side of the silenced and repressed 'feminine' is thought to enable women to 'foresee the unforeseeable', and escape the dichotomous conceptual order in which men have enclosed them. This new focus upon images of female corporeality has been seen by its exponents as presenting a fresh purchase on the old essentialism debate, transcending earlier forms of historical, sociological or psychoanalytic anti-essentialist arguments. The 'feminine feminine', H\u00e9l\u00e8ne Cixous and Luce Irigaray suggest, can emerge only once women find the courage to break out of the male imaginary and into a female one \u2013 once women begin to speak and write their sexuality, which is always plural, circular and aimless, in contrast to all existing singular, linear and phallocentric, masculine forms of symbolization. Such feminist reclaiming of the body unfolds here as always culturally and psychically inscribed female experience, not anatomical destiny, and is perhaps best seen as a form of aestheticized, high modernist, 'avant-gardism'. It is nevertheless still narrated in terms of a _universal_ corporeal subjectivity for women.\n\nThe attraction of such difference theory, which encourages the feminist to speak 'as a woman', is obvious. The revaluing of those aspects of women's lives and experiences previously ignored or demeaned in male-centred theorizing was, and remains, crucial to feminist research and practice. But there is still a problem which it cannot easily tackle (even if we ride with its own cheerfully embraced contradictions), once we turn from the academic to the political realm. As I have argued elsewhere, it is precisely ideas of sexual difference encompassing the experiences supposedly inscribing our distinctive 'femaleness', which most dramatically _divide,_ rather than unite, feminists attempting to fight for women's interests. It is easier for women to join forces around issues on the currently unfashionable economic front (demanding parity in wages and training) or on social policy (demanding more and better publicly funded welfare resources) than it has ever been for women to unite around issues of sexuality and the meanings we attach to the female body. Creatively exciting as the project of re-imagining female corporeality has proved to be for some feminists, its neglect of issues of class, race, ethnicity and other forms of marginality as equally constitutive of women's subjectivity and destiny has seemed exclusionary and disempowering to other feminists. Such criticism has been most forcefully expressed by black and ethnic minority feminist theoreticians: from Gayatri Spivak to Barbara Christian or Deborah McDowell. Some academic feminists like to quote Gayatri Spivak in support of their view that women today must 'take \"the risk of essence\" in order to think really differently'. However, Spivak herself has reconsidered her earlier suggestion for a 'strategic' use of a positive essentialism. Since such a move is viable only when it serves 'a scrupulously visible political interest', she now warns: 'The strategic use of essentialism can turn into an alibi for proselytizing academic essentialisms'. And it has.\n\nSpivak belongs to the second, more rigorous, Derridian strand of feminist post-structuralism, which is critical of the monolithic Lacanian version of difference theory. It questions all universalizing or totalizing theoretical tendencies, deconstructing every discursive patterning of the self, including that of 'woman'. Here, in tune with the input of black, Third World, lesbian, and other feminisms, _every_ generalization about women, including the feminist search for the causes of women's subordination or any generalized expressions of women's difference \u2013 whether seen in terms of responsibility for childrearing, reproductive and sexual experience, men's violence, phallogocentric language, a female imaginary, or whatever \u2013 is regarded with suspicion. This position is summed up by Donna Haraway:\n\n> There is nothing about being \"female\" that naturally binds women. There is not even such a state as \"being\" female, itself a highly complex category constructed in contested sexual scientific discourses and social practices.... The feminist dream of a common language, like all dreams for a perfectly true language, of a perfectly faithful naming of experience, is a totalizing and imperialistic one.\n\nHaraway wants to replace this dream with her own one of 'a powerful infidel heteroglossia... building and destroying machines, identities, categories, relationships, spaces, stories', seeking a place for women in a future 'monstrous world without gender'. Her dream is full of playful optimism about the future. For other more strictly deconstructive feminists, however, there is no theoretically defensible affirmative position, but only a reminder of the limits of concepts, as Spivak explains: 'the _absolutely_ other cannot enter into _any_ kind of foundational emancipatory project'. Such a deconstructive feminism certainly avoids the perils of generalizations about female subjectivity. But it courts the danger that its own interest in endlessly proliferating particularities of difference, and the partial, contradictory nature of women's identities, endorses a relativity and indeterminacy which works to undermine political projects.\n\nThe third, Foucauldian, strand of post-structuralist feminism returns us to the body \u2013 to its 'sexuality' rather than to sexual difference \u2013 but only as a site or target of ubiquitous technologies of classification, surveillance and control. Foucault's warning that oppositional discourses are inevitably caught up in the relations of domination they resist has been important in highlighting the traps facing emancipatory movements: of reproducing rather than transcending traditional frameworks of subjection. And his arguments about meaning and representation have proved particularly productive for lesbian and gay theorists. Here, feminists can learn much from Foucault's insights about the genealogy of discursive regulation, but next to nothing about how organized resistance might impinge on such all-encompassing regimes of power, other than through the discursively disruptive, micro-political strategies favoured by some lesbian theorists.\n\nDespite its influence on many feminists, especially via Judith Butler's suggestive ways of making 'gender trouble' by parody of the ties which bind the production of gender to heterosexual normativity, other feminists fear that a politics in which resistance is manifest primarily in individual performative subversion of the symbolic domain is inevitably voluntaristic and elitist. Moreover, while many 'Butlerians' still understand Butler as suggesting a type of individual transgressive 'performance' as the most relevant way of undermining existing gender dynamics, it is an interpretation she now rejects, for a more strategic engagement with 'the lived difficulty of political life'. Writing of cultural differences and the articulation of universal claims, she argues: 'What any of those terms will mean... will not be determinable outside the conflicts, institutional arrangements, and historical conditions in which they occur'. Quite so. Meanwhile, however, some feminists have used Foucault to reject earlier feminist analysis of power in relation to key structural and institutional sites. Again, the problem here is that it discourages analysis of just _where_ and _how_ women are best placed to combat the authority and privilege men commonly wield over them. This entails knowledge of and collective action within those particular sites which are most advantageous to women or which have proved receptive to change, while also pursuing strategies to undermine or transform those which remain most rigid and resistant to change.\n\n## _Political Agendas_\n\nAs discussed in later chapters, post-structuralism \u2013 especially in its Derridian and Foucauldian forms \u2013 has provided feminists with fresh conceptual tools for problematizing identities and social differences. It usefully emphasizes their hierarchically imposed and coercive nature, and the multiplicity of intertwining, destabilizing and exclusionary discourses or narratives in which subjectivities are historically enmeshed. It suggests the possibility (however difficult) of categorical resignifications or reconfigurations, as well as the need for acceptance of paradox and contradiction in conceptualizing change. Feminists need to pay heed to the normativities and exclusions of discourse, especially as they construct differences between women. But in a world of intensifying inequality, any concern with either gender justice or the fate of women overall must also engage us in social struggle for economic redistribution, alongside (and inevitably enmeshed with) issues of identity involving cultural recognition and respect. It is a socialist imaginary, combined with feminism, which has always stressed the sufferings caused by the material exploitation, deprivation and social marginalization of women and other oppressed groups around the world. These cannot be either superseded or replaced by battles over discursive marginalization and invalidation. The two objectives, though strategically distinct, are also intricately interwoven: the one turning feminists _outwards_ towards women in struggle, the other directing us _inwards,_ towards refiguring a hitherto abjected 'femininity'. Throughout this book I have aimed to keep both objectives in sight, pursuing theorizations sufficiently complex to embrace the intricacies of personal life, while refusing to give up on struggles for social justice and equality.\n\nHowever plural and irreducibly complex our characterization of the social, any politics seeking the most inclusive transformation of socio-economic and cultural life must strive to challenge the major systems of domination. This means trying to figure out just what they are at this historical moment: uncovering why, and how, they persist, as well as their interaction with whatever specific location we occupy. Fearful of totalizing generalizations we may be, and cautious we must be, but the most central global axes of economic exploitation and cultural oppression continue to construct and reconstruct themselves in the interrelated terms of 'gender' (tied in with sexual orientation), 'class' (tied in with nationality and ethnicity) and 'race' (tied in with nationality, ethnicity and religion) within what is the currently _ever more_ totalizing control of a transnational capitalist market. The invocation of specific differences can serve broadly based transformative ends, but only as part of _some wider political project_ seeking to dismantle these basic structures of domination.\n\nThe Anglo-American reception of post-structuralism, with its central place in nineties feminist theory, came to prominence at a political moment far removed from the one which generated the confident hopes that Women's Liberation took to the streets. Ironically, some explications and critiques of post-modernism present it as responsible for _installing_ feminism on the political agenda, as in Terry Eagleton's _The Illusions of Postmodernism;_ while others would see its influence as quite the reverse. Often distrustful, when not dismissive, of traditional forms of collective action and reformist political agendas, especially when class based, academic feminism faces an uphill task in describing how either attention to the discursive specificity of 'feminine' difference, or the proliferation of categorical heterogeneity and transgressive display, might ever again bring women together in any widely shared transformative feminist project. As Anne Phillips worries, introducing her own book _Democracy and Difference,_ when feminist theoretical work shifted from broadly social concerns to the more abstractly cultural, there was no settling of previous disputes: 'It was as if earlier debates had shunted themselves into a forlorn and deserted siding. Later journeys set off from a different station.' In particular, the more the attention to a language of difference, the less the interest in the effects of the continuing inequalities of class.\n\nWe need to remember that the word 'feminist' has a history. Sometimes feminists have focused directly on issues of sexual difference, at other times feminism has been more a movement for the transformation of the whole of society. At the close of the nineteenth century, 'feminism' first appeared in English to describe the movement of women campaigning for the right to vote, but within a few decades the concept had expanded to include a variety of different types of moral, economic, social and political campaigns waged by women. The second wave of Western feminism has similarly drawn upon different meanings, at times stressing common goals and social transformation (especially in its early days), at others emphasizing women's particularity or difference, often moving on to the embrace of political heterogeneity and conceptual fragmentation. The difficulties of generalizing from women's experiences (or 'corporeal existence', through whatever mode of representation) are not hard to document. Nevertheless, in ways I develop in chapter 2, it is premature to downplay the significance of gender in favour of a plurality of equivalent differences. The tenacity of men's power over women means feminists must just as tenaciously seek to emphasize the diverse and multiple effects of gender hierarchy on the lives and experiences of women. But if feminism is to address the problems of the many women who need it most, it must see that the specificities of women's lives do not reduce to gender, which means working in alliance with other progressive forces combating class, racialized, ethnic and other entrenched social hierarchies.\n\nInterestingly, one of the continuing threads between seventies and nineties feminisms (and there are many such threads, although we may not read about them in a significant number of nineties texts) is the continuing growth and vision of the international human rights movements, now often in the form of NGOs. However, even there, as Suzanne Gibson and Laura Flanders have described, it has proved far easier for women to get their demands taken seriously by the United Nations when they address gender-specific, apparently more politically acceptable issues like rape and violence against women, than when they address employment rights, illiteracy or poverty. Back in Britain, there will be little significant change in the situation of the women who are worst off until public resources are shifted to provide greater welfare provision, without the constraints of market considerations. Yet today's Foucauldian feminists who write about the state reject earlier feminist analysis of its structures and functions arguing that: 'In post-structuralist accounts of the state, \"discourse\" and \"subjectivity\" rather than structures and interests become the key terms'. In my view, such re-theorizing threatens to lead us further away from any analysis of the state itself, and the way in which it has been changing. The state now embraces market forces in most of the areas from which they were previously excluded, against the interests of, in particular, women with primary caring responsibilities, children and all dependent people.\n\nBritain, like North America, has been moving as fast as it can in quite the opposite direction from that which might assist those women in greatest need of economic and social support. This is why I remain a socialist feminist: still hoping for more dialogue than I find at present between different generations of feminism. Sometimes, as one of my colleagues writes when recalling his own formative moments in Northern Ireland, it is helpful if, without nostalgia, we summon up the 'courage of our anachronisms'.\n\n# 2  \nGender to Queer, and Back Again\n\n> Gendered self-consciousness has, mercifully, a flickering flame.\n> \n> Denise Riley, _Am I that Name_\n\nGender and second-wave feminism were born together, at the close of the 1960s. At least, gender has been used as an analytical category, rather than just a grammatical one, only since that time. Breaking out of the confines of what had been deemed women's biological fate, gender would explain the social construction of 'femininity', and the maintenance of men's power and privileges relative to women. Gender was the name for all the acquired, culturally diverse and hence mutable ways of becoming a woman \u2013 or a man. However, with 'man' the universal linguistic norm of humanity, it was overwhelmingly women who were seen as marked by gender, rather than men. Men and masculinity were not for some time studied by feminists in their own right. To begin with, all attention was focused on the position and the particularities of women and femininity.\n\nYet sorting through the differing costumes of gender, and the fashioning of them, would itself eventually come to be seen as limiting: only another way of confining women within their all too familiar enclosures \u2013 whether in aprons, negligees or nursemaid's caps. First, the nature and extent of gender similarities and differences (as distinct from biological, especially anatomical, _sex_ differences) provoked extensive feminist conflict. Next, attempts to fix the limits of the social and the psychic origins of gender difference came under scrutiny. Finally, the most extravagant trouble for gender theory would emerge from its ties to that third term to which both 'sex' and 'gender' have long been wedded: 'sexuality'. Nevertheless, some feminists fear that to abandon gender as a central category of analysis is ultimately to abandon feminism: born together, they will be buried together.\n\n## **_The Rise of Gender Theory_**\n\n'One is not born, but becomes, a woman'. With these fighting words delivered in 1949 in _The Second Sex,_ Simone de Beauvoir inspired almost all the newly emerging feminist writers two decades later to draw a distinction between sex and gender \u2013 at least in the Anglophone movement. In Britain, when such social scientists as Ann Oakley first stressed the distinction between biological 'sex' and socialized 'gender', they had in mind the secure internalization of contrasting patterns of behaviour. The initial purpose of 'gender' was thus to displace the role of biology in determining 'masculinity' and 'femininity'. Gender referred to apparently stable differences between men and women, but differences 'ineradicably over-ridden by cultural learning'. Its immediate consequence was to deny or minimize the existence of any fundamental differences between the sexes.\n\nFeminists in the 1970s developed the rudiments of gender analysis by introducing sociological notions of 'sex roles' and 'sex-role stereotyping' to explore the multitude of social forces operating throughout a person's lifetime to produce appropriate gender patterns. They studied the internal workings of the nursery, school and job market, as well as the broader structures of family life, sexuality, culture and politics. Gender was thus being used to refer both to the differences between men and women, and to the culturally diverse stereotypes or norms which were thought to determine those differences. Moreover, in seeing women as products of sexist culture, the dictates of 'femininity' were seen, for the most part, as subordinating and oppressive: 'Sexism has made of women a race of children, a class of human beings utterly deprived of self-hood, of autonomy, of confidence \u2013 worst of all, _it has made the false come true._ ' The young women who flocked to Women's Liberation at the close of the 1960s were unhappy with women's secondary status in society, and quickly produced a sea of statistics suggesting that women \u2013 to a greater or lesser extent depending on their circumstances \u2013 _suffered_ from their identity and role as women, both physically and mentally.\n\nThe notion of gender was soon put to multiple uses, depending on who was investigating it. To feminists in psychology, gender was primarily a set of personality characteristics or predispositions, although in 1974 North American gender theorist Sandra Bern would expeditiously provide a way of measuring 'androgyny', suggesting that many individuals shared both feminine and masculine traits. Affirming an optimistic idea, then current in feminism, that a more androgynous future offered one way out of the old restrictions of gender, in her early research Bern proposed that androgynous individuals were more adaptable than those who were sex-typed. A decade later (see chapter 5), some feminist psychologists, including Bern herself, had rejected their early focus on gender-related personality attributes or self-conceptions to stress instead of the acquisition of cognitive structures for organizing or framing perceptions in line with external 'gender schema', which ubiquitously emphasize gender dichotomy. Meanwhile, sociologists and anthropologists were studying gender at the structural rather than the individual or subjective level, often referring to what Gayle Rubin had labelled the 'sex\/gender system' to account for the systematic ways in which any particular society conceives and organizes kinship, reproduction, sexuality and its overall institutional practices and divisions of labour governing relations between the sexes.\n\nAt the same time, feminists in literary fields were busy analysing the symbolic construction of gender in forms of speech and other representational genres and practices. Wherever they looked, and whatever they studied \u2013 from high culture to pornography \u2013 they confirmed de Beauvoir's belief that women exist as 'the Other' in a male-centred world: 'defined and differentiated with reference to man and not he with reference to her'. Three decades on, de Beauvoir's compatriot Monique Wittig was reworking these ideas from the same foundation: 'The universal has been, and is, continually at every moment, appropriated by men.' Summarizing this insight in the USA, Elaine Showalter, the original doyenne of feminist literary criticism, would write: 'all speech is necessarily talk about gender, since in every language gender is a grammatical category, and the masculine is the linguistic norm'.\n\nThe shifting application of gender concepts, variously referring to individuals, social structures and symbolic systems, produced many of the puzzles and conflicts which continue to shadow it, both within and outside feminism. What is the connection between subjectivity and the socio-cultural relations of gender? Is gender neutrality possible, or are dominance and subordination intrinsic to gender differences? Were feminists aiming to eradicate gender, or merely to reform it? Does gender need to be refashioned to fit changing times? Is there some universal grounding, or set of determining factors, behind the transhistoric, global presence of men's greater access to power and privilege relative to women? How do changes in gender relations occur? How central or significant is gender in shaping women's and men's lives and experiences? What are the intersections of gender with other hierarchies of power and privilege?\n\nIn popular usage (and certain versions of what is known as 'liberal feminism'), there is no necessary relation between gender and power. Indeed, it is this potential symmetry between the two genders which leads French 'sexual difference theorists' to reject the concept altogether, as discussed below. Psychologists and clinicians, for the most part, see gender as involving harmony (or discord) between internalized concepts of self, biological sex and heterosexual object choice, with no reference to power. It is the psychoanalyst Robert Stoller who is usually credited with introducing 'gender' as an explanatory concept into the social sciences in 1968. With fellow clinicians in California, Stoller pioneered research on and treatment for gender-related problems. There is now a mushrooming medical interest in gender 'disorders', resulting in the diagnostic category of 'Gender Identity Disorder' entering the official list of psychopathologies in the USA ( _DSM-111_ ) in 1980, an affliction seen as manifest in cross-dressing and repeated desire to be the other sex.\n\nHowever, most feminists have always linked gender and power: indeed, were the two disconnected, there would be no need for feminism. Gender, as feminists have repeatedly demonstrated, is a central dynamic through which power is articulated: masculinity symbolizes power and authority; political power and moral authority is monopolized by men across all societies. Yet many men have little or no purchase on the power that is supposed to be the prerogative of their sex, while a significant minority of women have access to considerable power and privilege. Gender binaries never exist in pristine form. Women and men are always already inserted in contexts of race, class, age, sexual orientation and multiple other belongings: each with their deeply entrenched connections to power and authority, or the lack of it.\n\nIt is the difficulty of addressing the many questions surrounding gender, not least that of men's shifting and uneven purchase on power over others \u2013 including the women in closest proximity to them \u2013 which produced the more complex attempts to refigure 'gender theory' in the 1980s. Theorists searched for elaborations of gender broad enough to encompass its diverse social, psychological and cultural dynamics, mostly by stressing its intersections with class, race and other axes of power. Trying to analyse the different sites of gendered experiences and practices, feminists, in their more sophisticated formulations, began to theorize gender as an analytic tool for understanding cultural reality: seeing it as a category which operates in every sphere of human society, but in disparate ways which are neither fixed nor unitary. The historian Joan Scott, for example, distinguished four always interlinked but nevertheless distinct elements of gender, each forming part of the production of the perceived differences between the sexes in any specific context: (i) culturally available symbols which evoke multiple, often contradictory, representations; (ii) normative concepts for interpreting and using such symbols; (iii) social institutions and organizations; (iv) subjective identity. In line with the bulk of feminist reflection, Scott also emphasized that gender operates as a primary way of signifying relations of power: authority, strength, power are everywhere coded as masculine; dependence, weakness, the alien, subversive and bizarre, as feminine. Moreover, their metaphorical utilization is always intensified in times of crisis, or in the consolidation of new regimes of power.\n\nEven more hesitantly, the philosopher and psychotherapist Jane Flax argues that gender is not an object or set of objects, but rather that 'gendering' is always a complex and overdetermined, often conflicting, set of processes, which 'are provisional and must be reproduced and reworked throughout our lives.' From within sociology, Bob Connell has worked for many years to provide a 'systemic social theory of gender' which can encompass the movement, diversities, and personal and collective struggles encircling gender practices. Devoting slightly less time to cultural symbols and their discursive framings, he analyses the interplay between three central dynamics shaping and reshaping gender practices: sexual divisions of _labour_ in the home and the workplace; men's hold on state, juridical and all key sites of institutional _power,_ the patterns of _desire,_ or cathexis, first forged in the earliest relational bonds.\n\nHowever, it has not proved easy for feminists, or anyone else, to keep the complexities of the psychic, the social and the symbolic in play when trying to understand how the perceived differences and social exchanges between women and men are best understood. Pressures to simplify and collapse gender into individual sex differences, contrasting identities or fixed social roles feed the abiding tensions between those who stress the psychic life of difference, and those who study the social dynamics of the gender order.\n\n## **_The Allure of Difference_**\n\nOne is not born a woman; and Simone de Beauvoir, as feminists quickly noticed, seemed to dismiss as demeaning the most distinctive ways of becoming one. The veneration for men and masculinity pervading the _The Second Sex_ led many a feminist to distance herself from de Beauvoir, nowhere more passionately than in France itself. Nevertheless, with their account of a socially constructed 'femininity' as humbling and inhibiting women, second-wave feminists had early on been accused by others (and would often accuse each other) of playing down the differences between women and men and accepting the dominant dismissals of the feminine. The strident rebirth of feminism had focused first upon family life and women's dependent, undervalued, and not infrequently isolated and depressed domestic lives, especially when engaged in full-time mothering. From the USA, Ann Snitow would later trace feminists' repudiation of what came to be seen as the 'demon texts' of those early years. Most notorious was Shulamith Firestone's _The Dialectic of Sex,_ published in 1970, with its startling suggestion that feminism should 'free' women from their biology through technologies of artificial reproduction (a view immediately dismissed by most other feminists as hopelessly flawed). The iconoclastic view which nearly all early women's liberationists had in fact voiced was merely a challenge to the coercive norm of motherhood as women's defining destiny, the sole route to female happines: but that, of course, was in itself to prove incendiary, for women as much as for men.\n\nBy the mid-1970s the surge of interest in affirming women's lives in the face of rampant misogyny, feeding into the growth of women's studies in academic institutions and the rise of 'cultural feminism' in the wider women's movement, had begun to turn around earlier suspicions of the idea of women's distinctive characteristics, in favour of an appreciation of specific female experience. As early as 1973 Jane Alpert's essay 'Mother Right' appeared in the North American magazine _Ms.,_ arguing for a feminist 'matriarchal reorganization' of society as the alternative to a socialist vision. Soon afterwards more charismatic feminists, like the American poet Adrienne Rich, were writing lyrically of the revolutionary potential of women's bodies, and maternal experience \u2013 differentiating 'mothering' from existing patriarchal institutions of motherhood. Rich's work also reflected a powerful strand of lesbian theorizing of the 1970s. In an influential essay published in 1980, she spoke of the role of 'compulsory heterosexuality' in erasing lesbian consciousness from women's experience. Rich located 'lesbian existence' in the love and tenderness women have shown towards each other throughout history, identifying it as the building block of 'female power'. For Rich, the 'lesbian continuum' exists, if subterraneously, in all 'women-identified' women. In what would prove a controversial desexualization, Rich's lesbian continuum ranges from genital sexual activity to the gentle nurturing ways of women, who have provided for other women from the cradle to the grave.\n\nAn alternative critique of motherhood came from Nancy Chodorow's description of the effects of women's monopoly of parenting in the production of polarized and unequal gender identities: boys who are fearful of intimacy; girls who define themselves only in relation to others. Chodorow argued for change in, rather than celebration of, existing patterns of parenting. But the mothering themes of Rich and Chodorow helped inspire a new celebration of 'maternal thinking' and 'maternal practices', quickly evident in feminist writing at the close of the 1970s. To the dismay of some other feminists, it was one which largely ignored evidence of the frustration, aggression and intense ambivalence also present in women's mothering experiences.\n\nThe affirmation of gender difference was everywhere in feminist scholarship throughout the following decade, nowhere more strongly than in the USA where women's studies first set sail. From the widely acclaimed emphasis on women's separate styles of moral reasoning propounded by Carol Gilligan (who would eventually assume the first Chair of Gender Studies at Harvard University) to studies suggesting basic cognitive differences between women and men arising from women's separate 'ways of knowing', women were positioned in their own distinct, and supposedly shared, gendered space.\n\nMeanwhile, radical feminists in the USA extended this approach to singling out contrasts between male and female sexual practices (supposedly institutionalized through pornography) as pivotal to men's global dominance. In Catharine MacKinnon's influential theory, gender consolidates itself through eroticized domination and submission: 'the social relation between the sexes is organized so that men may dominate and women must submit and this relation is sexual \u2013 in fact, is sex'. MacKinnon, however, denies the existence of sexual difference as other than that of sexual domination (male) and sexual violation (female). The condition of coerced sexual subordination, or 'whore', constitutes the social meaning of 'woman' in the 'sexist social order' of heterosexuality: 'women are unimaginable without the violation and validation of the male touch'; 'What I've learned from women's experience with sexuality is that exploitation and degradation produce grateful complicity in exchange for survival'. Moreover, as discussed in the previous chapter, the popular appeal of MacKinnon-style anti-pornography feminism, in offering cheap and simplistic solutions to the endemic and seemingly increasing problem of men's violence, meant that her theory and political agenda was soon being promoted as the imprimatur of feminism by much of the media.\n\nAt its best, gender analysis aimed to highlight a complex array of shifting, often contradictory, sites of compliance or struggle around men's power and authority across symbolic, psychic and institutional realms. But what the very different understandings of gender I have cited have in common is their attempt to make a single site of gender regulation stand in for all the others, in order to consolidate gender contrasts, and assign them universal causes. The most structurally static of all the theories of gender, the MacKinnonite equation of gender with sexual coercion (and its related demand for state regulation to protect women from victimization in pornography) was sadly, as I have indicated, also the one which would capture media attention, and be broadcast as paradigmatic of feminism. Germaine Greer is receiving unprecedented media promotion to disseminate this very same message even as I write, insisting that anyone who refuses to see that domination is intrinsic to heterosexual genital penetration is 'in denial'. Meanwhile, throughout the reign of far right governments in Britain and the USA in the 1980s, best-selling books appeared from women calling themselves feminists which were overtly scornful of every aspect of the earlier feminist search for women's social and political equality with men, including their campaign in the USA for the Equal Rights Amendment, concurrently being derailed by Reagan. The pull of what is called 'difference theory', relating to women's distinctive bodily and social experiences, thus took centre stage in the most influential forms of Anglo-American feminism. Yet this very prioritizing of gender difference occurred alongside a sharply contrasting rejoinder to the disentangling of difference: attention to divisions between women themselves.\n\nThe flowering of black and other particularizing feminist voices in the 1980s launched an upsurge of anger at the false universality in previous feminist accounts of women's supposedly special qualities which, they argued, merely represented the experiences of white, middle-class, Western women. In the haunting words of Audre Lorde, who knew that 'all women do not suffer the same oppression simply because they are women', or Alice Walker, who declared it 'apparently, inconvenient, if not downright mind straining, for white women scholars to think of black women as women', black feminists challenged white women's failure to prioritize racism, poverty or ethnic specificities in their celebration of women's identity. Barbara Smith, one of the editors of the powerful anthology by American 'women of colour', _All the Women are White, All the Blacks are Men, But some of Us are Brave,_ published in 1982, declared that unless the vision of feminism was one which 'struggles to free _all_ women', it becomes 'merely female self aggrandizement'. Another of its editors, the influential Chicano writer Gloria Anzald\u00faa, would later develop the notion of the 'mestiza', to describe the predicament of people who occupy 'the borderlands' between cultures (like the Chicana, or Mexicans, in the USA).\n\nAttentive to cultural location, and its barely visible articulation, these women of colour nevertheless tended to adopt a strongly materialist feminism, stressing economic and structural oppression alongside what would soon emerge as a more fashionable, near exclusive, focus upon the complexities of linguistic and discursive hierarchies of subordination and abjection. In Britain, as in the USA, black women throughout the 1980s were equally insistent that 'white, mainstream feminist theory... does not speak to the experiences of Black Women and where it attempts to do so it is often from a racist perspective and reasoning'. Numerous Third World feminists, like Chandra Mohanty in her essay 'Under Western Eyes', now regularly spelt out the colonial presumptions in Western feminism's attempted universalization of women's subordination, emphasizing that the structuring of gender is always strongly marked by racial, cultural and other geopolitical relations of power.\n\nThe synchronicity of accounts of women's distinctive gender difference offered by some theorists in the 1980s and the forceful feminist assertion of a multiplicity of 'differences' (most crucially around race and ethnicity, alongside the celebration of lesbian consciousness) was a peculiarly volatile coexistence. It would lead many feminists to endorse a type of pragmatic, yet somewhat contradictory, pluralism towards issues of 'difference': their centrality and significance always in threat from their collision and proliferation. For example, while many nineties feminist texts equate a 'politics of difference' with attention to 'the specificity of black women's experience and the racism of white feminists', many of the black and Third World feminists they consider themselves to be embracing remain more ambivalent about the contemporary feminist focus on questions of subjectivity and difference. A confusion is at once apparent in the repeated affirmation that 'since the 1980s an erstwhile politics of identity has largely been superseded by a politics of difference'. It is unclear how the one concept is supposed to replace the other, when the two concepts are mutually constitutive: no identity without difference, and no difference without some kind of identification. This is particularly evident if we look at the next twist in the increasingly tangled tale of the move to 'difference theory' in the 1980s.\n\n## **_The Romance of Otherness_**\n\nFeminist scholars, influenced by developments in European philosophy, began using the tools of post-structuralist and psychoanalytic theory to challenge the reliance upon the category of experience in accounts of identity, or claims to difference. They were dismissive of most Anglo-American gender theory as mere sociological reductionism. Derrida's 'deconstructive' method of studying texts was used to uncover the metaphysical error of assuming that knowledge is grounded in some foundational experience, rather than in the shifting heterogeneity of discourses which serve to produce meaning. Following Ferdinand de Saussure's structural linguistics, meaning is seen here as constructed through the operation of linguistic contrasts or oppositions, rather than through correspondence with objects in the world. In Derridian theory, 'diff\u00e9rance' does not refer specifically to sexual difference, but rather to the endless dispersal of subjectivity and the inevitable deferral of meaning consequent upon the multiple applications and chronic instabilities of mutually interdepedendent, but nevertheless always hierarchical, binaries. The dominant 'masculine' term presupposes its 'feminine' underside, for instance, and vice versa. It is not just the case that these pervasive dichotomies cannot securely be held apart. Derrida also points to the set of exclusions necessary for their production: all that is outside the dialectic of negation cannot be represented in intelligent discourse. Nevertheless, within the snares of the binaries underpinning Western metaphysics \u2013 identity\/difference, presence\/absence, universality\/ particularity \u2013 the 'feminine' appears only as the underside, the negative, the perennial representative of 'otherness', in feminist appropriations of deconstruction.\n\nIn contrast, sexual difference is central to the whole order of representation in psychoanalytic post-structuralism. With little interest in sociological theories of gender, feminist psychoanalytic literature influenced by Lacan addressed the central place of sexual difference at the heart of psychic life. In this view, gender theorists have mistakenly focused on social and material aspects of women's subordination, ignoring the deeper _asymmetry_ between the sexes: the semiotic and symbolic structures which place women outside its categories of representation, irrespective of specific social and political arrangements. Here, it is argued that feminists need to begin from the emergence of subjectivity, or psychic individuality, which occurs in and through language, via entry into the Symbolic domain in which the phallus always already exists as the 'privileged signifier'. This ensures women's negative entry into culture. Women are constituted in terms of lack, and men \u2013 since the phallus is not the penis \u2013 in terms of the constant threat of lack.\n\nMost significantly, in this account, femininity is never securely acquired or completed. In Jacqueline Rose's well-known summary: 'the unconscious constantly reveals the failure of identity'. (This perspective differs from that of 'object-relations' psychoanalysis, like that of the early Chodorow, where women's mothering ensures that daughters successfully internalize a nurturing and receptive femininity.) But, if sexual difference is a site of instability and failure at the individual unconscious level, it is nevertheless presented as a permanent structure in the timeless Symbolic. Inescapable antagonism between the sexes is thus inscribed within the Lacanian formation of subjectivity, as I discuss more fully in chapter 6.\n\nMore surprisingly, it was precisely the imperious rejection of any possibility of affirming the feminine in Lacan's structuralist account of phallocentric culture which would lure post-Lacanian feminists to do just that: attempt to delineate the feminine in terms of its seditious 'Otherness', an imagined subterranean existence outside the phallogocentric laws of Man or God. The most sophisticated, indeed esoteric, forms of difference theory were expounded in the work of those who claimed the name of 'French Feminism'. H\u00e9l\u00e8ne Cixous and Luce Irigaray fought the erasure of the feminine in the Symbolic order by producing their dissident poetics of the 'feminine feminine' and, with Julia Kristeva, celebrated the subversive potential of the tactile, rhythmic semiosis of the pre-Oedipal, pre-symbolic, maternal murmurings and communications, in disordering the Symbolic order. Although accused by other equally prominent theorists, for example Gayatri Spivak, of Eurocentric essentialism in their exclusive convergence upon _sexual_ difference as the definitive difference constituting subjectivity (however devoid of fixity) French Feminism was nevertheless to prove highly influential in feminist scholarship. In a new type of romanticized 'feminist myth of origins', a nostalgia for the imaginary symbiosis of the lost (pre-Oedipal) mother-child bond came to serve as a crucial psychic space for articulating the feminine, as Mary Jacobus reflected in the late 1980s.\n\nHoping to bypass accusations of bias and exclusion, more recent sexual difference theorists have insisted upon the infinite heterogeneity, the absolute alterity, and complete absence of _any_ distinctive qualities in the 'feminine imaginary' they seek to liberate from the shackles of inescapable phallocentrism. In the words of Drucilla Cornell: 'Feminism demands nothing less than the unleashing of the feminine imaginary made possible, paradoxically, by the lack of grounding of the feminine in any of the identifications we know and imagine as Woman'. Speaking what they declare unspeakable, opposing all binaries by pitching the 'wholly Other' against phallogocentrism, privileging the opposition they aim to deprivilege, theorists of sexual difference have been straining conceptual coherence and intelligibility, along with political pertinence.\n\nRita Felski summarizes many of the incongruities others have noticed in these abstruse renditions in her essay 'The Doxa of Difference'. If it were the case that language and human culture has been an exclusively male creation, why should contemporary feminists be any more successful at freeing themselves from the inescapable grip of phallocentric thought than their predecessors, whom they judge to have failed? In fabricating an avant-garde semiotics of difference, other feminist struggles are frequently dismissed as merely superficial reforms complicit with the masculine symbolic. As Felski concludes: 'A vision of femininity as pure otherness cannot speak to the messy blend of tradition and innovation, of recuperation and recreation, of borrowing from the past and imagining the future, that shapes feminist practise.' Indeed, disdain for women's collective action separate from the delineation of feminine difference has accompanied French psychoanalytic feminism almost from its inception. 'We try not to be political', Julia Kristeva notoriously declared in an interview on British television in 1984. More menacingly, Irigaray attacked other feminists fighting for equality, rather than asserting the importance of sexual difference, with the apocalyptic warning: 'To want to abolish sexual difference is to call for a more complete genocide than every other destruction in history'.\n\nThere is an unbridgeable gap here between post-Lacanian difference theorists and those working, however critically, with more sociological applications of gender theory. Feminists, like me, who write about gender, cannot accept the idea that the overriding contradiction for feminists lies in an irreducible and irreversible asymmetry in the symbolic domain, unaffected by socio-historical shifts and pressures. The primary political point of gender theory, as I would choose to use it, is to explore the ways in which gendered identities are mutable cultural and historical productions, subjectively experienced as both precarious yet fundamental \u2013 with that precariousness most evident in men's uncertain hold on phallic masculinity. The experiences and practices which stabilize as gender identity operate at diverse and shifting levels: from the most uniquely constituted inner recesses of the psyche, through the more flexible familial or occupational organizations of daily life, to enduring gender hierarchies embedded in symbolic configurations and ruling cultural and political elites. Changes at one level (like the visibility of strong and confident women, with authority in the home, the workplace and public life) create ruptures and fissures which can begin to effect change at other levels. Moreover, gender identities and practices are always themselves permeated by the effects of class, race, ethnicity and nationality.\n\nIn contrast, difference theorists, as Rosi Braidotti explains, believe that gender theory deradicalizes feminism and ignores its central task, that of 'empowering a female feminist subject': 'The whole point of taking the trouble to define, analyse, and act on sexual difference as a project aiming at the symbolic empowerment of the feminine (defined as \"the other of the other\") is to turn it into a platform of political action for and by women.' Later, Braidotti, via Deleuze, tries to illustrate how this 'other of the other', the feminine desiring subject, might 'find the exit from the prison-house of phallogocentric language': 'To achieve this, we need a quiet, molecular, viral, and therefore unstoppable revolution within the self, multiplied over a multitude of different selves acting as historical agents of change.' For me, at least, these two political projects are not in dialogue. Simply put, with my own theoretical presuppositions, I am unable to provide an adequate account of Braidotti's position, since I can make scant sense of it as a politics.\n\nNot surprisingly, many feminists who were aware of, but often did not participate in, the never-ending battles over sameness versus difference, gender parity versus deconstruction\/rewriting of the feminine subject, were wearied and confused by these relentless theoretical reworkings, leading some to speak of an 'identity crisis in feminist theory'. More judiciously, others counselled acceptance of both sides of the binary of 'being' and 'not being' a woman, since the divide exists as a marker of women's equivocal entry into modernity, both offering and withholding the inclusion of women in its vision of the freedom and equality it promises the straight, white, male, as subject of his own estate.\n\nIn what remains for me the most perceptive and enlightening of all the reflections on identity, Ann Snitow's 'Gender Diary', written at the close of the 1980s, records her own chronically anxious personal and theoretical oscillations over needing to value and organize around being a 'woman', and needing to reject the very category 'woman', and all its baggage. She argues persuasively that feminists can no more finally choose between the two positions than they can avoid _having_ to choose within the twists and turns of ongoing political endeavour. Moreover, the divide always returns, in grassroots activism as well as in theory production, even though the issues propelling women into solidarity movements with other women are often not specifically gender issues. The grassroots women's movements she and other activist-oriented feminist scholars supported and studied, like the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo in Argentina (demonstrating against the state over the deaths of their kidnapped and murdered children), often fractured over the political remit of their struggle, beyond that of the expression of maternal outrage.\n\nThe fluctuations over minimizing or maximizing difference seem inevitable, at all levels of the intersecting realms of the biological, the psychological, the social and the symbolic. Snitow concludes that there can be no transcendence of gender: the paradoxical desires to express, and to escape from, the feminine (like the particular significance of the many other forces governing women's lives) will shift only through historical change, they will not be resolved through theoretical revisions.\n\n> From moment to moment we perform subtle psychological and social negotiations about just how gendered we choose to be.... One can be recalled to \"woman\" any time \u2013 by things as terrible as rape, as trivial as a rude shout in the street \u2013 but one can never stay inside \"woman\", because it keeps moving. We constantly find ourselves beyond its familiar cover.\n\nHer words echo those of the British theorist and poet Denise Riley, who similarly notes the fluctuations of gendered identity while arguing that the history of feminism has been a struggle against 'over-zealous identifications' of what women are supposed to be: 'feminism must negotiate the quicksands of \"women\" which will not allow it to settle on either identities or counter-identities, but which condemn it to an incessant striving for a brief foothold'. From this perspective, feminists can neither close down, nor retreat from, the questions gender raises: whether examining the myriad discourses in which it appears, or seeking equity in the diverse social relations it helps to structure.\n\n## **_The Joys of Queer_**\n\nSome feminists have come to accept the inevitability of living with the paradoxes of gender, wanting to assert difference inside sameness, and sameness inside difference. Others have sought nothing short of complete deliverance from its trappings. After the excitement and the anger which feminism once generated had dissipated \u2013 through internal conflicts and the recessionary tempo of the early 1980s \u2013 a fresh upsurge of political and theoretical ebullience emerged from lesbian and gay activists and scholars at the close of the decade. Feminism was a decisive influence on the emergence of gay and lesbian studies and activities (since the maintenance of the power and privileges of straight men was seen as pivotal to the policing of homosexuality), but its influence here had significantly declined, if not reversed, by the 1990s.\n\nThe inspiration for much of the new lesbian and gay agenda was the desire for an analytic and political separation of the category of sexuality from that of gender. Gayle Rubin's argument in 'Thinking Sex' (1984) is usually cited as the seminal influence; she departs from her earlier essay on the sex\/gender system to argue that the power relations of 'sexuality' cannot be reduced to those of 'gender'. Building on this distinction, Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick suggests that working with sexuality offers more space for deconstructive work on identity and its constraints, given 'its far greater potential for rearrangement, ambiguity, and representational doubleness', than does working with 'gender', since 'virtually all people are publicly and unalterably [ _sic_ ] assigned to one or other gender, and from birth'. Illustrating the growing appeal of this analytic separation, the editors of the most comprehensive North American lesbian and gay anthology, published in 1993, suggest: 'Lesbian\/gay studies does for _sex_ and _sexuality_ approximately what women's studies does for gender'.\n\nCatapulted into action by the calamity of death and suffering from AIDS (which decimated gay subcultures in the 1980s), armed with the diverse tools of discourse theory, deconstruction and psychoanalysis, a new flowering of lesbian and gay scholarship emerged under the banner of Queer Theory. Kicking off what some saw as the exclusionary and strictly gendered identities of 'lesbian' and 'gay', queer politics embraces every possible form of dissident sexualities, each demanding visibility in the straight world \u2013 not mere tolerance (at best), when closeted behind closed doors. 'What's Queer?', Sedgwick asks, and provides as part of her answer:\n\n> The experimental linguistic, epistemological, representational, political adventures attaching to the very many of us who may at times be moved to describe ourselves as (among other things) pushy femmes, radical faeries, fantasists, drags, clones, leatherfolk, ladies in tuxedoes, feminist women or feminist men, masturbators, bulldagers, divas, Snap! queens, butch bottoms, storytellers, transsexuals, aunties, wannabes, lesbian-identified men or lesbians who sleep with men, or... people able to relish, learn from, or identify with such.\n\nWith that colourful sweep, almost anybody, it seemed, who was sufficiently stylish, could jump onto the queer platform, which was fast emerging as the cutting edge of fashion in some of the largest Western academic, political and art forums of the 1990s. 'For this', as British sociologist Ken Plummer observes, 'is the Golden Age of gay and lesbian studies'. In a brilliant outpouring of texts, many of these confident new sexual outlaws set about the final trashing of gender, via the dismantling of the hetero\/homosexual hierarchy.\n\nThe addition of Foucault's writings to the arsenal of deconstructions of identity (as the alien, incoherent and unstable effect of discourse) would inspire more strategies of resistance to bodily inscriptions of gender. In his account of the history of sexuality, the discourses constructing and regulating the body and its activities are the primary site for the operation of power in modern societies. This form of domination is no longer primarily manifest in repressive decrees issuing from on high, but rather through the far more pervasive, subtle and elusive micro-practices for making sense of daily life. For the last two centuries, it has been sexuality (the body as metaphor for the soul) which increasingly grounded the truth of who and what we are: 'the project of a science of the subject has gravitated, in ever narrower circles, around the question of sex'. Here, sexual identities are implanted by professional discourses which have their origins in regulatory fictions organized around the heterosexual\/homosexual divide, tied to the masculine\/feminine, active\/passive polarities of gender.\n\nAppropriating Foucault for feminism, Judith Butler (who would quickly emerge as the single most cited feminist theorist of the 1990s) calls into question the need for a stable 'female' identity for feminist practice, and instead examines the potential of a radical critique of categories of identity in her book _Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity._ Here, she suggests that the three concepts of 'sex', 'gender' and 'sexuality' are established in discourse only through a process of reiteration, or enactment in repeated cultural performances, that congeal over time to produce the effect of identity. Gender performativity is not seen as a choice, but rather gender identities acquire what stability and coherence they have through a range of discourses available for delineating the body, all of which are framed within the coercive context of the 'heterosexual matrix' (a notion drawn from the work of Monique Wittig). Identities are always normative and hence exclusionary.\n\nWomen are _neither_ born _nor_ made; but our actions are rendered intelligible only by the involuntary performance (or flouting) of heteronormative cultural discourses. However, Butler sees possible subversive effects or potential for resignifications in performative display which exposes the _artificiality_ or constructedness of the oppositional markers of heterosexuality. Dissident sexual acts make 'trouble' for gender categories, disturbing the heterosexual matrix which secures sex and gender binaries: male\/female to active\/passive. The proliferation of sexual acts performed in non-heterosexual contexts thus disrupt and weaken normative gender framings. From diesel dykes to lipstick lesbians, drag queens to muscle men, perverse sexualities potentially reinscribe or resignify sex and gender categories through their transgressive mimicry or, in Butler's words, 'subversive repetition', of the heterosexual 'original', which is itself culturally crafted. Articulating what would become a founding statement of queer theory, Butler concluded: ' _In imitating gender, drag implicitly reveals the imitative structure of gender itself- as well as its contingency._ '  Though Butler herself would soon strike a cautionary note, her ideas encouraged an upsurge of delighted followers \u2013 even a _JUDY_ fanzine in California \u2013 among those who felt they could at last radically free themselves from the constraints of gender. Via a kind of improvisational theatrics for remaking the body, her fans were busy putting on, and off, the stylized practices and markings of gender, in non-normative or queer framings.\n\nWhat is so striking, and to some feminists was so disturbing, about the engagement of lesbian feminists with queer theory in the 1990s is its strategic reversal of the women-centred identity politics so forcefully expressed by the directly preceding, and still overlapping, generation of lesbian feminists. In terms of queer politics \u2013 not to mention the classical conception of perverse sexuality as deriving from gender inversion \u2013 the 'woman-identified-feminist' earlier celebrated by writers like Adrienne Rich (in what was called 'cultural feminism') was a very 'straight' sort of lesbian: a gender _conformist_ rather than a gender dissident, albeit outside sexual exchange with men. These rising lesbian rebels tended to exaggerate the homogeneity and rigidities of their feminist predecessors, but they issued a decisive challenge to what had become the increasingly restrictive moralisms of significant strands of radical, lesbian and cultural feminisms: sharing new norms of acceptable 'feminist' sexuality, modelled on an ideal of 'lesbian' sex. This involved the denunciation of the 'patriarchal' act of penetration, dildoes, exhibitionism, power plays, pornography, and any hint or echoes of what were seen as definitively oppressive 'heterosexual' fantasies and practices. As many lesbians would later conclude (and some already said back in the 1970s and 1980s), this was a period when the 'lesbian' was desexualized, to be presented as a political prototype in line with the dubious exhortation, 'Feminism is the theory; lesbianism is the practice': 'For five years I was terrified of getting my fingers near a vagina, lest they engage in a politically incorrect act.... We thought our sexuality was oceanic in those days, more transcendent than transgressive', queer theorist and AIDS activist Cindy Patton recalled in 1989. 'I survived lesbian feminism and still desire women', a Butler enthusiast would proudly inform her new mentor.\n\nOf course, quite a number of lesbian feminists had always resisted what they saw as a compulsory 'feminist sexuality', a few choosing instead to explore the lavishly diverse range of consensual desires, fantasies, pleasures and practices, most brilliantly memorialized in the sexual stories and pornographic fictions of Joan Nestle. However, queer emphasis on the political significance of sexual and bodily ambiguities encouraged far wider lesbian and feminist exploration of the profoundly perplexing nature of much sexual fantasy and practice, which had previously been muffled, if not actually censored. It similarly triggered awareness of the hitherto often repudiated links between power and desire; as indeed, had certain psychoanalytic feminisms, before it. More uniquely, it brought a host of once marginalized \u2013 often derided \u2013 agents to the forefront of queer analysis to unsettle or denaturalize the binary categories of gender, and to expand the possibilities for bodily experience. As Butler clarifies, hoping to reassure those feminists for whom her own political trajectory remains alien: To conceive of bodies differently seems to me part of the conceptual and philosophical struggle that feminism involves'. I agree.\n\nWith the eruption of new sexual agents, theoretically tooled for 'resistance to regimes of the normal', queer politics eagerly highlighted the deviant, disowned, often anonymous, sex acts which occur in the subterranean world of public life (in parks, clubs and toilets), as Michael Warner celebrates in his introduction to _Fear of a Queer Planet,_ (1993). Occasionally, queer helped to fashion the resistance of hitherto completely quarantined and invisible sexual groupings, as in the formation of the Intersex Society of North America in 1992, for individuals born with 'ambiguous' genitals. More often, it consolidated the rebellion of those once most marginalized within older lesbian and gay (not to mention 'straight') communities. No longer simply the object of medical and social surveillance and management, in compliance with heterosexualizing gender imperatives, the body became the site of resistance for those who felt newly empowered to engage in self-formation and self-fashioning, placing choice and flexibility at the centre of their lives. Ironically, the antiidentity project of Foucault, Butler and post-modern discourse generally, was helping to provide the motivation for a crafting of _new_ identities. The body was now the transcendent cultural metaphor for the blurring of boundaries between authenticity and artifice, material and virtual reality, our all-too-solid flesh and endlessly refurbishing machines.\n\n## **_Transgender Dialogues_**\n\nIt was what Robert Stoller saw as the pathological plight of transsexuals \u2013 desiring bodily modifications to align their genitals with their sense of self \u2013 which had prompted him to promulgate the notion of 'gender' as the core category of identity. With neat irony, today, transsexuals are embraced as part of a queer vanguard able to disturb and unsettle, if not transcend, that very category (although by no means all transsexuals see themselves as transgressive). 'I am a transsexual by choice, not by pathology', the ebullient Kate Bornstein affirms in her engaging book _Gender Outlaw: On Men, Women, and the Rest of Us._ Identifying as a transsexual lesbian, the thespian Bornstein argues that transsexuals who identify as 'transgendered' (a term recently coined to refer to all who _choose_ to engage in cross-gender practices) can be seen as finding a means of escape from the rigidly bipolar gender system: the cultural imperative to be either a man or a woman. Wittily teasing all those separatist feminists who make her so unwelcome, she boasts: 'I'm _probably_ the only lesbian to have successfully castrated a man and gone on to laugh about it on stage, in print and on national television'. More prosaically, Anne Bolin, in her essay on male-to-female transsexuals, published in 1994, argues that transgenderism has the potential to undermine and transcend the gender system by refusing the connections between biological sexual signifiers and performances of gender.\n\nBut this line of escape from gender would prove contentious, and not just (although, for sure) with homophobic or defensive heterosexuals, and straight or lesbian separatist feminists. In proclaiming the indeterminacy of gender, via dissident sexual practices, there is the danger of becoming more, rather than less, obsessed with its endless permutations. Exemplifying a cavalcade of queer self-presentations in the USA, Judith Halberstam applauds: The drag king can be male or female; she can be transgendered; she can be butch or femme.' That is so, and there is real pleasure and excitement in embodying (and for many in viewing) such transgressive figurations, which both mock and magnify the ways in which sex, gender and sexuality are habitually conceived and enacted. But, however parodic and pluralistic, to what extent is transsexualism an 'escape' from gender? How often is it read as emancipatory or subversive?\n\nIcons of mass culture, from Mae West to Madonna, Valentino to Michael Jackson, have always thrived on forms of sexual ambiguity which suggest the seductive appeal of a transgressive or perverse dynamic at the very heart of heterosexist culture. But with drag and queer display as popular (or unpopular) with reactionary as with radical audiences, its ability to unsettle and subvert normative structures of gender and sexuality seems no more powerful than its ability to mirror and to legitimate them. The uncanny strength of conventional sexual and gender binaries is their ability to triumph over the repeated attempts, both theoretical and performative, to dismantle and deconstruct them; to survive the copious evidence that behind heterosexual normality lies polymorphous perversion (as Freud is still loathed for telling us). As I explored in _Straight Sex,_ the braided hierarchies of sexuality and gender have a remarkable capacity to thrive precisely on their own contradictions.\n\nIt is not just that it can all be such very hard work (and very painful) trying to escape from one's assigned gender, striving to match one's appearance to whatever transgendered bodies seem to accord better with one's own feelings and fantasies of bodily authenticity \u2013 whether or not with a sense of freedom, or of drastic compulsion. It is also that the old gender markings are still _in place_ in transgendered bodies, as Mandy Merck spells out: 'Drag fascinates in its simultaneous display of contradictory sexual meanings, not in their resolution or dispersal. It no more transcends gender than Michael Jackson's surgically altered appearance transcends race'. Rather than transcending gender, the current fashionability of and preoccupation with transsexuality and bisexuality, cross-dressing and all the other attempts to combine and repackage gender and sexual signifiers, might be thought to keep us all the more in thrall to their now multiply exhausting demands and anxieties, fears and pleasures.\n\nAs Roger Lancaster ponders (after studying a variety of transgender practices in Latin America): 'Is male, phallic hegemony made, unmade, or re-made in this queer theatre of gender?' It could be any of these three, depending on the nature and context of its audience, and the understandings they bring to bear on it. The 'black queer diva' Marlon Riggs expresses 'his' own suspicions of transgressive performances (not to mention the incongruous readings which back his personal self-imagining!): 'Le Butch-Girl wonders, for instance, if her\/his permission to say gender-fuck is contingent upon knowing and articulating Fanon, Foucault, Gates, Gilroy, hooks, Hall, West, and the rest as well'. Indeed, Butler herself has repeatedly made such statements as: 'I don't think drag is a paradigm for the subversion of gender. I don't think that if we were all more dragged out gender life would be more expansive and less restrictive'; and '[Transgender practices] can work to destabilize or to retrench dominant notions of gender, and they can work to link normative gender with normative heterosexuality, _or_ to sever them from one another'.\n\nLancaster and Butler thus agree that transgenderism may have both radical and conservative, transgressive and conformist, ramifications. However, faithful to Foucauldian formulations, they also agree that it is no more 'fraudulent' than any other enactment of gender. This is what they see as its strength in providing a _commentary_ on gender, whether or not it is one which is decipherable by others. This perception leads Lancaster to reflect on the potential challenges to gender identity posed by heterosexuality itself.\n\n> The \"deceptions\" of the transvestites are different from those of \"real women\" in degree rather than in kind. Nor is the precarious posturing of their \"masculine\" partners so different from that of other \"men\". The \"real\" man in a relationship with a biological woman is no less vulnerable to the sudden revelation that his partner is more a \"man\" than he.\n\nThe latter point is one I have myself frequently illustrated, in both _Slow Motion_ and _Straight Sex,_ suggesting that although heterosexual engagement is quintessential to the confirmation of masculinity, it may also serve as its undoing.\n\nYet for all its commentary on gender and sexuality (available to those already enlightened), self-styled post-modern performances of flexible self-invention become more problematic, the closer the inspection of them. _The consummation of transsexual desire is the most decisive form of gender consolidation, notwithstanding its literal enactment of gender construction._ It is a perfect illustration of the fact that an awareness that gender is 'socially', 'performatively' or 'discursively' constructed, is very far from a dismantling of gender. Thus, while some queer theorists, as I have suggested, see transsexualism as the apogee of liberated sex, which has 'refused its imprisonment in the phallocentric orbit of gender', there are other queer theorists who emphasize that it merely literalizes and thereby 'works to stabilize the old sex\/gender system'. In the most nuanced study of transsexualism I have seen, Jay Prosser rejects the transgressive\/ literalizing binary to suggest instead that we simply listen carefully to transsexual and transgendered narratives for what they tell us about the continuing cultural force of feelings of biological embodiedness, and related gender belonging. These narratives, he suggests, 'produce not the revelation of the fictionality of gendered categories but the sobering realization of their ongoing foundational power'.\n\nCuriously, given the extraordinary degree of human reconstruction it involves, I suspect it is in its testimony to the continuing force of gender figurations that we can best explain why transsexualism is today, surprisingly, becoming _more_ acceptable, at this time of widespread anxiety over upheavals in gender relations. In both Britain and the USA, upmarket broadsheets have recently been seeking out and publicizing the most sympathetic articles and news commentary on transsexuals. Significantly, however, the people they cover have all slotted into the more traditional transsexual (as distinct from transgender) narrative of being 'born with the wrong body'. Here it is gender, rather than sex, which is seen as the fixed and fundamental category, and the genitals are seen as a type of 'mask' that doesn't fit: 'I do not have a psychological condition', Claire reports (who before her sex change operation had chosen the surprisingly 'manly' job of policeman), 'I never chose to be like this. I was born like this, it is not a whim. It is a medical condition.' These transsexuals describe themselves as 'nature's mistakes'. It is not so surprising, therefore, that the scientists who feel they know all about 'nature' (and are in tune with the _Zeitgeist_ in mainstream biological and social sciences) persevered until one of their number managed to come up with a correlation to enable journalists to rush into print to report that in one foetus in 10,000 the 'area of the brain responsible for gender develops in contradiction with the external sex organs'. It is an area of the brain which has mysteriously managed to escape the attention of other biological scientists, despite their obsessive, hundred-year search for it!\n\nWhether the pursuit of bodily transformation is seen as dictated by 'nature', conditioned by family and cultural experiences, or simply a form of freely chosen self-expression in selecting one's body of 'choice', the blurring which occurs is _not_ one between genders so much as one between subversive rebellion against, and conservative accommodation to, oppositional gender binaries. Moreover, self-construction resonates perfectly with the comprehensive commodification of contemporary capitalism. The prosthetic body becomes merely the latest, enormously profitable, consumer product, whether via cosmetic surgery, drugs, implants, or whatever the roving biomedical and fashion industry can come up with to accommodate individual fantasy to its new commercial technologies. More generally, as Alan Sinfield worries, queer theorists can be seen as 'particularly complicit' with an oppressive economic and political system: They celebrate the fluidity of the subject, which suits the marketing business very well; they present the moment-to-moment desperation of capitalism as analagous to gay cruising and as the best kind of life; they glamourise the \"risk\" in S\/M practices in the language of stock-market trading in derivatives.'\n\nA final problem with queer theory's programme of exposing the volatility and constraints of gender identity lies in its characteristic disdain for the psychic pain, fear and potential disintegration which so often accompanies gender uncertainties \u2013 outside the protective boundaries of academic or theatrical engagement. As the British psychoanalyst Adam Phillips remarks: 'Being blithe about transgression quickly becomes a way of forgetting that people actually suffer, and so of putting the (moral) emphasis in the wrong place.' That suffering, it is certainly true, is produced and constantly exacerbated by the invasive and pathologizing cruelties of heteronormativity. But that is not all there is to say about people's desire for a sense of identity and belonging. All identities provide a necessary coherence and stability, a familiar place from which to act. Indeed, as Jonathan Dollimore suggests, identity serves as a constant protection _against_ desire. However dissident, identities provide not only refuge and solidarity, but a way of disowning unwanted, disconcerting or embarrassing desires. Dollimore recounts the reflections of a gay man who is completely horrified to find that he desires a straight black woman, only to express his enormous satisfaction on learning that the object of his desire is reassuringly 'all-man': 'Oh god, the relief, the blessed relief!' After feminism, after gender theory, after queer theory, after all the flaunting of the inherent instabilities or fluidities of gender and sexuality, the problem remains: we still live in a world haunted by cultural and personal fixations on sexual opposition. As Prosser shows us, transsexual narratives 'return us to the complexities and difficulties that inevitably accompany real-life experiences of gender crossing and the personal costs of not simply being a man or a woman... [where] transition often proves a barely livable zone'.\n\n## **_Back to Gender?_**\n\nWe are all transsexuals now, Jean Baudrillard declares, with his reliably hyperbolic rhetoric. Pessimistic conservative that he is, despite his bizarre elevation as post-modern hero, Baudrillard mourns this new flexibility of desires and pleasures. Today we are all _'symbolically_ transsexuals', accelerating into a void where 'nothing is either masculine or feminine': 'Once the orgy has faded away, the liberation of sex will have had the effect of sending everybody in search of their \"gender\", their generic and sexual identity, with fewer and fewer answers given the circulation of signs and the multiplicity of pleasures'. Despite welcoming rather than lamenting the spaces where gender flexibilities and sexual ambiguities are free to flourish, I see things differently. We have transcended neither gender nor sexual hierarchies, although their enactments have certainly been subject to considerable upheaval: some, the product of organized resistance and transgressive agitation; most, the product of unintended displacements and commercial possibilities.\n\nAt least among the cosmopolitan cultural elite, the emergence of queer rhetorics and confrontational politics enhanced awareness of the tenuousness of both gendered and sexual identities, and the discontinuities in the ties that supposedly bind them. They also mobilized new alliances in the face of the violence of persisting homophobia and the harsh policing of any challenges to heterosexual conformity which do not keep to their designated niches \u2013 on stage, vaudeville, in carnivalesque festivities, or wherever they are permitted for one brief moment to entertain and titillate, but not lead astray, the presumptively heterosexual milieu. Transgression can be part of a wider culture of oppositional consciousness (its often disturbing impact strongest when it is new and surprising), and can help to build the progressive political struggle on many fronts. But that broader struggle has become less and less visible in recent lesbian and gay texts, which, in the context of the withering away of left alliances and principles, are more concerned with post-modern literary theory.\n\nThe British AIDS activist and theorist Simon Watney asks why the recent lesbian and gay studies movement has had so little to say about the experience of living with the AIDS epidemic: 'often preferring to view [it] through the binoculars of arcane literary theory, rather than the perspective of establishing and fulfilling urgent, practical research needs.' When such research is undertaken, of course, it immediately brings us back to all the ways (both symbolic and tangible) in which the now far less attractive issues of racialization and class are central to the formation and practices of sexuality, alongside gender and global relations of power. These include: the hugely diverse rates of longevity and suffering for those living with HIV and AIDS; the prospects or obstacles for sex education and safer-sex projects; the chronic sexual exploitation and abuse of particular groups of (mostly) young women and men; the detrimental biopolitics of multinational chemical corporations.\n\nWatney's misgivings about queer erudition and its distance from broader political analysis and activism marks him as a radical from another era, with different hopes, and different dreams: 'It is terribly easy to pose as a romantic Outsider, forever \"transgressing\" against evil norms of liberal humanism... it is rather more difficult to understand the real world, and the possibilities it provides both for growth and fulfilment and for misery'. Yet, his despair is also the theme of a host of other feminists, gay men, race and gender theorists who compare older visions of collective social transformation with what they see as the fragilities of individualized trangression. In the world we know, sexuality is lived through gender, race, class and other axes of power. The writings of those theorists and activists who have struggled together to make that world a more democratic and egalitarian place signal common concerns: 'Just as political economy needs a better appreciation of the stubbornness of cultural difference', Dennis Altman argues, from Australia, 'so does queer theory require some basic knowledge of political institutions and an appreciation of the ways in which economic globalisation is creating a newly universal sense of homosexuality as the basis for identity and lifestyle, not mere behaviour'. 'Rearranging the signs of gender too often becomes a substitute for challenging gender inequity', Suzanna Walter writes, from the USA: 'Wearing a dildo will not stop me from being raped as a woman or being harassed as a lesbian... it will not, short of \"passing\", keep me out of the ghettoes of female employment'. '\"Queer\" activists focus on \"queer\" issues, and racism, sexual oppression and economic exploitation do not qualify, depite the fact that the majority of \"queers\" are people of color, female or working class', her black compatriot Barbara Smith agrees. 'Transformation' not 'transgression', should be our watchword, Elizabeth Wilson, in Britain, insists. Sexual dissidence, as Alan Sinfield has always argued, should not be separated from broader aspirations for a fairer world: 'The task is less to applaud and hasten the disintegration of residual identities \u2013 the market will take care of that \u2013 than to assess and exert some influence over the emergence of new ones.'\n\nHowever, it could be argued that the more tenuous ties of queer theory's symbolic politics to more traditional political practices, and even the recuperability of its transgressive representations by market forces or hegemonic reframings are, in themselves, unfortunate only to the extent that they stand _alone_ as a politics. There is no intrinsic imperative to prevent multiple political engagements, other than the tendency of more aesthetic traditions to display a disdainful detachment from the inevitably compromising work of coalition (or even subcultural) building. It is a graver problem if, on its own terrain, queer perspectives miscontrue the punitive and restrictive production and regulation of gender and sexuality. Yet I suspect that this is the case. Queer theory's semiotically driven reflections rarely address the ways in which, throughout our lifetimes, we move in and out of the identifications, pleasures and vulnerabilities of gender settlements, structures of desire, and management of bodily capabilities: health, age and a myriad other belongings and exclusions play a central role. We are never simply subject to (or in rebellion against) sexual and gender norms or normativities. Against Foucauldian framings, the complexity of both psychic life and bodily investments are not homologous with polarizing gender discourses, or the social injunctions which render them intelligible. On the one hand, psychic life has an autonomous complexity which sexual difference, or gender identity, does not exhaust \u2013 however firmly or precariously experienced at conscious and unconscious levels. It is never fixed or even consistent in its manifestations. On the other hand, the external namings and rules which solicit gender and sexual performativity are not themselves seamless and unchanging. It is here that I would return to the work of certain feminist clinicians critically rethinking psychoanalysis as 'the discipline most practiced in the art of uncertainty', as the New York analyst Virginia Goldner put it.\n\nLike her colleagues Muriel Dimen, Arlene Harris or Jessica Benjamin, these scholarly clinicians describe how gender operates as an identificatory vehicle to establish, reject or maintain relationships with others. Gender is not internalized as a single entity, rather it operates subjectively within an array of often conflicting mental representations and self-perceptions. These are built up, first of all, as a consequence of powerful identifications with parents, siblings and significant others. But such identifications are stamped all over with the effects of the symbolic hierarchy of sexual difference, and the still widely prevalent \u2013 although domestically specific and individually unique \u2013 experience of contrasting gender expectations and personifications from mothers, fathers and other providers of love and care: the first objects of desire. 'It is these overdetermined, internally contradictory, deeply embedded relationship premises that are always at risk of collapsing under their own weight that constitute the pathogenic, wobbly \"bedrock\" of gender', Goldner concludes. Since the cultural dynamics of gender mean that it is never simply an elaboration of anatomical sexual difference, it will always be possible to question the meaning of 'masculinity' and 'femininity', and point to their uncertain content, both psychically and socially. The emancipatory point is, surely, the hope that we might feel better able to acknowledge and indulge real gender ambiguities, rather than feel driven to reify or eliminate them, whether in oneself or in others.\n\n## **_The Future of Gender_**\n\nIt is time to dwell upon the significance of these battles over gender, old and new, and to consider, finally, just what we want to do with gender. Repeatedly questioned about the materiality of the female body (as distinct from its forcible production in discourse), and in particular about its distinctive relation to pregnancy and childbirth, Butler responds by explaining that the very question itself is part of the discursive enforcement of a norm, which inevitably gives some women a sense of failure, loss, or inadequacy: 'If you are in your late twenties or your early thirties and you can't get pregnant for biological reasons, or maybe you don't want to, for social reasons \u2013 whatever it is \u2013 you are struggling with a norm that is regulating your sex'. True enough. And if you are in your teens, and eager to avoid pregnancy at all costs when having sex with men outside marriage, you are struggling against another set of regulations that may make contraception inaccessible, alongside normatively produced psychological constraints that often deny you the confidence and assertiveness to insist upon risk-free sex. But it is not norms or discourses which incite conception (or not) following 'unprotected' genital heterosexual acts. A foetus is neither implanted by language, nor dissolved by resignifications, although in most cultures it _is_ certainly emblematic of the most controlling and coercive regulations investing the female body. As Bob Connell writes: 'Bodies are not just the object of our will, whether individual or social, _they are also our fate_.'\n\nOf course, every aspect of the predicament of unplanned teenage pregnancy needs to be understood culturally and politically, not by closer inspection of female anatomy \u2013 except for researchers of effective contraception. We need to discern such things as the role of religion, sex education, access to contraception, girls' levels of self-assertiveness, relevant peer subcultures (of girls, and of boys), the life choices open to young women, and so on, and on. What we need here is not so much to study the historically specific and mutable sex\/gender system, as the prevailing gender\/sexuality regimes. Women with children have another set of needs which, apart from pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding, have next to nothing to do with female biology and, new reproductive technologies now permitting, possibly little to do with sexual engagement. Rather, they are almost all connected to the differing cultural arrangements for housework, childrearing and care in the home \u2013 which to date have been predominantly arranged along gendered lines. The question is whether, and if so how, it might be possible to register women's specific needs and interests in relation to current gender structures in the social, political and economic domain, while still rendering notions of gender less rather than more controlling. As I see it, this cannot be done without the closest possible attention to the ways in which gender and sexuality operate together at any historical moment, in all their psychic complexity, and as a structure of social relations and symbolic contrasts.\n\nSuch attention to complex and intricate detail is what gender theory, at its best, tried to offer: exploring the historicity of gender at all levels of analysis. At its best, I believe, it has the potential to help us envisage similarities and contrasts in gender practices which might serve to encourage the continuing production of more enabling, rather than constraining, forms of gender. Awareness of diversities in the operation of gender patterns at the social level has the potential to increase our tolerance of the ambiguities of gender identifications and internalizations at the psychic level. Writing of the latter, Muriel Dimen suggests that gender needs to be seen 'as an internally varied experience [which is] sometimes central and definitive, sometimes marginal and contingent'. It is this very contingency which, she argues, 'generates uncertainty, invites inquiry, and offers richness'. We need images of gender which would, for sure, be flexible, playful and plural but still recognizable as pertaining to the lives of women and men: to types of people who potentially share almost everything, with just a few small differences which, at different times, in different ways, bear an enormous historical weight. For all the talk of the disappearance of gender, the regulation of what is seen and often experienced as women's distinctive potential remains politically as prominent as ever. This is even clearer if we look beyond the affluent West, at the gender-specific effects of hunger and famine worldwide, where we would need to consider the 'missing women' \u2013approximately 100 million of them \u2013 who have died due to the effects of sex-selective infanticide and the lower levels of nutrition and healthcare received by girls and women compared with boys and men. As Jacqueline Zita concludes: 'Against the intellectual anorexia of post-modernism, this [\"sexed\"] body with its biology and history stubbornly returns with a weight that defies the transcendental promises of postmodernist fantasy and its idealist mechanism.'\n\nOne is not born a woman, but becomes one. However, quite what one becomes is always ambiguous, with only some of the signs of woman' to the fore, some of the time. This is where the interaction of gender and sexuality is at its most volatile. The way to fight the idea of sex, and its rigidly conceived ties to gender or sexuality as the _core_ of our being, is not to negate or eliminate our own complex psychic investments and social negotiations as gendered and sexually desiring beings. It is rather to highlight their complexity, and potential fluidity. It is also to mobilize in support of diverse struggles at the different sites where gender functions to constrain or suppress us \u2013 in both social and symbolic domains. As feminist schemes and dreams surely already suggest, sexual difference can be re-conceived, and re-enacted, in ways which work to undermine, rather than to shore up, strictly hierarchical conceptions of gender centred on affirming active\/heterosexual\/masculine dominance (symbolized as phallic). For her part, Gayle Rubin has always been clear that while sexuality is not reducible to gender, it is hardly disassociated: 'I never claimed that sexuality and gender were always unconnected, only that their relationships are situational, not universal'. While Butler, paradoxically, remains hostile to any attempt to draw too strong an analytic separation between gender and sexuality, given what she sees as their overlapping performative construction through regimes of heterosexuality \u2013 despite having inspired a generation of sexual dissidents into battle against existing gender significations. This is why, far from suggesting that gender does not exist, Butler can herself be seen as 'the reigning \"Queen\" of Gender', in Rubin's affectionately teasing accolade.\n\nIn the USA, just when queer theory and transgression gained academic modishness \u2013 when Donna Haraway was celebrating, dissidents flaunting and Baudrillard lamenting \u2013 the coming of a future 'monstrous world without gender', the most significant, most modest, most easily bestowed choices which might have been made available to young women entering adult sexual engagements were being systematically withdrawn. The encouragement of sexual self-confidence and knowledge, information about sexually transmitted diseases and reliable contraceptive resources were officially forbidden in the public arena of teenagers. In 1997 the Adolescent Family Life Act became federal law in the USA, making available a $100 million a year funding for 'sex education', with an exclusive 'abstinence only' focus. All fifty states in the USA agreed to its funding framework, which prohibited information about contraception or safer sex techniques, despite ample knowledge (even admitted by its promoters) that its chastity lessons meet none of its intended goals: to reduce teenage pregnancy and HIV transmission, and to raise the age at which young people become sexually active. One survey reported that students enrolled in an abstinence-only programme engaged in _more_ sex than those in a control group which, although publicized, failed to prevent the Clinton Administration from making such courses the single top priority of its National Campaign to Prevent Teen Pregnancy. This is in line with figures from the Netherlands, where teenage pregnancy rates are over thirteen times lower than in the USA, and the average age of first intercourse is higher.\n\nOverwhelmingly targeting and intimidating young women, the transparent aim of abstinence-only sex education is to promote fear and ignorance about sexual activity: 'Pregnancy, AIDS, guilt, herpes, inability to concentrate in school, syphilis, embarrassment, abortion, shotgun wedding, gonorrhoea, selfishness, pelvic inflammatory disease, heartbreak, infertility, loneliness, loss of self-esteem, loss of reputation, being used... ectopic pregnancy, sexual violence, loss of a sense of responsibility toward others, loss of honesty, jealousy, depression, death', are listed as just _some_ of the hazards of non-marital sex in the Parent-Teacher's Guide to 'sex education', called \u2013 believe it or not \u2013 _Sex Respect._ It threatens, this time aiming at boys: There's no way to have premarital sex without hurting someone', fully aware that the age of marriage in the USA is, on average, a good ten years after the first sexual engagement with others. Helpful advice!\n\nIn her chilling account of the injurious effects of these pro-abstinence educational packages, Judith Levine illustrates their chronic dishonesty, and the callous perpetuation of falsehoods about the dangers of all contraceptives, and of even the safest sexual practices (like kissing!). As she notes mournfully, the desiring body, and pleasurable, consensual sex acts, are just nowhere to be found in sex education in the USA in the 1990s. Their anti-sex message is matched only by their rigid notion of gender roles: 'the peers who pressured were invariably male, and those who refused and delayed were female'. However transgressive they may wish to be, many young American girls are still terrifyingly coerced by the necessity to avoid pregnancy, and the scapegoating and potential financial penalties they face should they choose to mother, alone.\n\nThe world, mercifully, does not incorporate wholesale the worst excesses of the robust American right (hopefully recently forced into something of a retreat even in their own disgracefully vengeful domain), although they have a very powerful way of intimidating, or eliminating, opposition \u2013 world-wide. Meanwhile, the teenage pregnancy rate in England and Wales is only sightly lower than that in the USA: rivalling the very poorest parts of Western Europe; a startling seven times above that of the Netherlands, and far higher than any other EU country. In Britain, as in the USA, social inequality and inadequate sex education are a significant part of the problem, as British politicians are just beginning to admit.\n\nWhile the signs of liberal tolerance for choice and freedom in lifestyles can be found in specific arenas, such tolerance is all but submerged by the far greater buttressing of gender traditionalisms in most others: a common thread to almost every television drama I have watched of late, most of them home-grown in the UK, has been that any woman who disrupts the heterosexual dyad has only one choice: she must die. Not so much female transcendence as a waiting tomb \u2013for you know whom. And just as issues of pregnancy and parenthood still invest female bodies and women's deliberation in ways that remain gender specific, although strongly stamped by race, ethnicity and class, so too gender segregation at work and lower wages have become even more entrenched for poorer women (as discussed in my final chapter).\n\nWe have not, yet, done away with gender. And in the currently foreseeable future it looks unlikely that we will, for all the visibility of pluralities and ambiguities of identities and desires. Well before queer theory, social construction theorists often hoped to see the end of gender and sexual categorizing, usually based on the fallacious presumption that what is culturally forged is conceptually fragile and unstable. 'We must use whatever means we have to give up on gender', Suzanne Kessler (one of the early social construction theorists in psychology) argues today. She reaches this conclusion after surveying the burdens and indignities which surgeons have inflicted upon the small but significant number of infants born with ambiguous genitals to enable them to construct unequivocal gender identities. Babies with aberrant 'gender markers' have been scarred for life, and their erotic sensitivities ablated, by a medical profession committed to producing culturally approved binary sex and gender orthodoxies. These normalizing procedures, adopted by medical and psychological experts to construct the 'successful vagina' or the 'good enough penis', occur long before children are in any position to choose their gender, genitals or sexuality: a situation some of the (often erstwhile) 'intersexed' have contested during the 1990s.\n\nAnother pioneer of social construction theory, Ken Plummer, already foresees a fundamental shift in categories of sexuality and gender: In the late modern world, the very idea of \"being gay\" will be transformed into the idea of a multiplicity of sexual\/gendered\/relational\/emotional, etc., beings in the world.... The separate genders and their separate sexualities cannot so clearly be sustained'. Yet another pioneer, John Gagnon, writes similarly that a 'strong social constructionist position' should be seen as 'the first step in attempting to eliminate that gendering'. These social constructionists are wary of any talk of mental life. Indeed, Gagnon goes on to attack the emphasis on childhood and early object relations as a weakness of psychoanalysis. Ideally, they argue, there should be no limits or constraints on the relational interactions any individual can make throughout their life course.\n\nThis is not quite how I see it. Now is not the time for us to be forgetting gender. There are too many constraints which follow from its many paradoxes; even in a post-phallic world, some forms of gendered bodily difference are likely to be marked, although in different ways, at different times. Sometimes central to our lives, sometimes marginal, the gendered identifications we have made (most likely with people of both sexes) and the existing social structures of gender will continue to affect our desires as well as the connections we make (or fail to make) for giving and receiving sexual attention, recognition, nurturance and love, or for choosing (or being forced into) parenting and other caring work. The battles we wage around gender might one day allow these choices to be made in a world in which images of gender are more equal and more flexible than the cultural imperative to position ourselves within an oppositional phallic hierarchy, with its related privileges and constraints, have hitherto allowed them to be. As the lesbian feminist Biddy Martin suggests:\n\n> What we come to experience as our relation to sexual difference, our most deeply felt sense of gender is, in part, the consequence of reducing a complex set of articulations to a false unity under the sign of sex.... The goal, then, should not be to do away with gender, as if that were possible, or to leave it intact as though it were a state, or to override or contradict it with our more mobile desires. We might rather value it as an aspect of the uniqueness of personalities without letting it bind and control qualities, experiences, behaviors that the culture divides up rigidly between two supposedly different sexes.\n\nI agree.\n\n# **3**  \nGenes and Gender: The Return to Darwin\n\n> There is something immensely beguiling about strict adaptationism \u2013 the dream of an underpinning simplicity for the enormously complex and various world.\n> \n> Stephen Jay Gould, _New York Review of Books_\n\nIn the previous chapter I described how some feminists react to the constraints of gender by seeking deliverance from all its trappings \u2013 biological or cultural. In this one, I chart the opposite response to gender uncertainties, coming from writers who think they have found the true biological constraints on gender and sexual fluidities: 'Feminists, meet Mr. Darwin!', their champion in the USA announces. It is an odd time for the return of such fundamentalism. But the stakes are high. The goal is not just conceptual containment of potentially unlimited shifts in gender beliefs and practices. It is a return to the allegedly more rigorous authority of the biological sciences of much that has recently been understood as cultural. The hope is to defeat, once and for all, those cultural theorists who assume that 'ideas that draw upon the authority of nature nearly always have their origin in ideas about society'. Gender is a key symbolic site of this conflict.\n\nBack in the 1950s, in the era of the strictest observance of the truths of science and its pronouncements about nature, Roland Barthes began his semiological assault on the constant transformation of 'history' into myths of 'nature'. Forty years later, and his work might seem to be done. He and his intellectual kind convinced a generation of scholars that to engage in any search for the universal causes of human actions, or the foundational origins of civilization \u2013 however we might describe them \u2013 was to engage in the most oppressive and foolhardy form of metaphysics. Belief in universal truths (now derided as 'grand narratives') has broken down in Western culture, some of the most sophisticated theorists assure us, from the platforms of literary and cultural studies. Indeed, Britain's best-known scientist, Richard Dawkins, likes to protest, in language as poetic as he can muster, that scientists are made to 'feel like shabby curates among literary dukes'. But they are all wrong. There is a new form of fundamentalism in the social sciences and media world, which only a minority of cultural theorists have taken seriously. Meanwhile, the glittering prizes bestowed on Dawkins tell their own truth about intellectual authority.\n\nBy the late 1980s disillusionment with Marxism (following a decade of defeat for left agendas and campaigns in Britain and the USA) had expanded to include a critique of all the universalizing principles of the Western Enlightenment, among many former political idealists. Any belief in universal laws of human nature came to be seen as terminally suspect by those who designate these times 'post-modern'. Yet, not coincidentally, in the same period, a type of Darwinian fundamentalism was growing in strength and authority in both the physical and social sciences.\n\n## _**Science versus Culture?**_\n\nSpeaking from the most exalted academic platforms, with the authority of the Chair for the Public Understanding of Science, specifically created for him at Oxford University (by the Microsoft millionaire Charles Simonyi), Richard Dawkins pronounces as his first axiom of science: 'Plants and animals alike are all \u2013 in their immensely complicated, enmeshed ways doing the same fundamental thing, which is propagating genes.' The eternal truths of Darwin's grand narrative have returned with a vengeance to reshape intellectual agendas this _fin de si\u00e8cle,_ just as strongly as they did the last. A generation ago, appeals to evolutionary biology to explain cultural practices or social hierarchy were denounced as mere justifications for conservative prejudices. Today, the most simplistic forms of evolutionary theory are advanced by actively committed liberals and social reformers: manifest in Britain in the Blair government's favourite think-tank, Demos, preparing a report delineating the implications of evolutionary psychology for the shaping of social policy, _Matters of Life and Death: The World View from Evolutionary Psychology._ It is not the beneficiaries of Barthes, but the successors of C. P. Snow, who now win most of the media accolades in the revitalized and transformed 'Two Cultures' debate.\n\nFew things are more depressing for me to have to write about than the renaissance of a Darwinian fundamentalism, whether in mainstream media debate or in the most powerful strands of the social and biological sciences. The goal of life in this form of evolutionary theory is twofold: to survive and to mate. It is a goal, according to Dawkins, implanted in the genes of all living things \u2013 however redundantly the components of genes lie on most chromosomes, never once triggered into any action at all. True, Sigmund Freud saw the ability to love and to work as necessary for human happiness, and I have little difficulty accepting that he is highlighting two crucial sites of human activity. But accounts of 'loving' and 'working' direct us immediately towards quintessentially human narratives; 'surviving' and 'mating' strip away this human dimension. It is a barbed contrast for one such as me, and my long-standing friends, who saw the meaning of human life in collective co-operation in the shaping of history. Nevertheless, given its place in contemporary thought, we must look very seriously at this resurgence of Darwinian thinking.\n\nI hope to show how Nature and History are once again being confused at every turn, to the great impoverishment of both. The latest 'science' versus 'humanities' wars have been undertaken not just to reassert the presumed neutrality and rigours of science over the spirited and capricious fantasies of the imagination, but more importantly to defeat those who insist upon greater complexity and epistemic diversity, whatever their theoretical tools. However, there are sceptics within _both_ cultures, many of whom have been pointing for some time to the recurrent deployment of science to provide spurious legitimation for popular cultural convictions.\n\n## _**Survival and Sexual Selection**_\n\nIt is hard not to see the current return to Darwin as being fuelled, at least to some degree, by a reactive search to legitimize predestined gender and sexual distinctions in the face of the personal panic and social alarm generated by a combination of feminist challenges and the seemingly unstoppable institutional shifts in gender practices. In the late nineteenth century and the early twentieth, at a time of heightened imperial conflict, Darwin's ideas were appropriated by eugenic movements in many Western countries, using notions of inherited 'degeneracy', 'feeblemindedness' and the dangers of 'miscegenation', to justify all manner of class, 'race' and anti-immigrant restraints and prejudices. Today, they usually serve a somewhat different cause \u2013 not so much racial as gendered \u2013 although one which has surfaced before in earlier gender battles.\n\nIn _The Origin of Species_ (1859) Darwin documented the extraordinary _variation_ in living organisms, past and present. He surveyed the abundance of fossil records of species which had become extinct, and marvelled that from 'so simple a beginning endless forms most beautiful and most wonderful have been, and are being, evolved'. His central idea was the assertion that all living things that have ever existed are related, and have descended from a common origin which emerged from inanimate materials as the simplest form of life \u2013 now thought to be about three billion years ago. Darwin originally referred to his central idea as a 'theory of descent with modification', rather than as a 'theory of evolution' (implying a notion of 'progress'), but the speedy advocacy of his ideas by Victorian scientists and eugenic enthusiasts encouraged him to speak of 'evolution' in his next book _The Descent of Man_ (1871). Unlike many of those who pronounce in his name today, Darwin believed that 'the present is the key to the past' (just as Marx had earlier remarked that 'human anatomy is a key to the anatomy of the ape'). Darwin did not believe, like his contemporary publicists, that the past holds the key to the future, the solution to the meaning of human life. On the contrary, he wrote: 'I have nothing to do with the origin of the primary mental powers, any more than with life itself'.\n\nSpecies have appeared and disappeared over time, Darwin argued, through a causal mechanism of 'Natural Selection, or Survival of the Fittest', which ensured that only those forms of life best suited to survive and reproduce themselves in any specific habitat would continue to exist as a species. Alongside the random process of 'natural selection' for survival, Darwin also wrote of 'sexual selection' for effective procreation in sexually reproducing species. The latter generated 'a struggle between the males for possession of the females', as well as choice and selection of males by females (although females were seen by Darwin as playing a more passive, secondary role in the process of evolution). In line with the panorama of imperial England, Darwin himself saw sexual hierarchy conjoined with racial hierarchy (indeed his most famous book is subtitled _The Preservation of Favoured Races in the Struggle for Life_ ), producing white males at the pinnacle of evolution. However, today's Darwinians usually distance themselves, at least formally (although, as we shall find, not always effectively), from the Victorian racist dynamics of 'sexual selection', even as they enthusiastically affirm its sexist dynamics: males have an inherent advantage in the evolutionary 'arms race'.\n\nEven here, not all contemporary Darwinians are quite as explicit as the popular science writer Robert Wright, who throughout the 1990s has consistently ridiculed feminists seeking equality with men as doomed by their deliberate ignorance or foolish denial of the 'harsh Darwinian truths' about human nature: 'Feminists are right to dread some of the rhetorical resistance Darwinism will abet'. Expressing specious concern that feminism may falter from its own 'doctrinal absurdities', he challenges them to face up to the evolutionary basis for 'the \"natural\" male impulse to control female sexuality', 'men's natural tendencies to greater promiscuity', 'natural selection' for men to make 'the Madonna-whore distinction': 'Human males', in short, 'are by nature oppressive, possessive, flesh-obsessed pigs'. Wright admits that men are 'not beyond cultural improvement', but 'the bad news is [that] the average beer-drinking, two-timing, wife-beating lout isn't going to change his moral views': 'Some changes can't be made and others will come only at some cost'. As Wright likes to reassure himself and the many readers of his bestseller _The Moral Animal: Why We Are the Way We Are,_ feminists have managed to procure legislation against sexual harassment, and even elements of affirmative action for women, but they will never share power with men because they lack men's genes for competitiveness and risk-taking behaviour. The ideological motivation at stake here is as naked as the eponymous ape, adroitly summed up by three feminist biologists reviewing the book: 'This particular version of evolutionary psychology implies that affirmative action can only result in hiring or promoting inferior candidates.... Compared with amending the Constitution to assure equal rights for women, fighting our (allegedly) genetically determined bodies and minds is daunting indeed'. Feminists, back off!\n\nIdeological imbrication, enshrining both patriarchal precedent and capitalist market values, was embarrassingly prominent to many in the first blast of resurgent Darwinism with the publication of E. O. Wilson's _Sociobiology_ in 1975 and Richard Dawkins's _The Selfish Gene_ the next year, soon followed by other influential publications in the social sciences, such as David Barash's _The Whisperings Within_ (1979), and _The Evolution of Human Sexuality_ (1979), by the anthropologist Donald Symons. (Following the publication of _Sociobiology,_ the US magazine _Business Week_ ran a series of articles on 'The Genetic Defence of the Free Market', celebrating the evolutionary origins of men's competitive self-interest.) In the decade of resurgent feminism, these books offered a distinctive genetic underpinning for male dominance and aggression, female passivity and domestication, in terms of 'the optimizing of reproductive fitness' \u2013 albeit without any reference to actual genetic makeup. Sexual selection for competitive reproductive advantage was the particular Darwinian contribution to emerge as the fundamental postulate of sociobiology. It was an elaboration not so much of Darwin's own writing, as of its extension to accounts of differential 'parental investment' in offspring (in sperm, egg and the raising of progeny to reproductive age), first proposed by the somewhat less prominent US biologist Robert Trivers in 1974.\n\nOn this account, promiscuous male behaviour evolved in accordance with the maximum spread of the continuous 'low-cost' supply of copious sperm; prudent and passive female behaviour was selected to accommodate the 'high-cost', time-consuming, requirements for the monthly production, successful fertilization, gestation and survival to reproductive age, of the far more limited supply of female eggs. Dawkins reiterates the theme: 'The sex cells or \"gametes\" of males are smaller and more numerous than the gametes of females', concluding, 'it is possible to interpret _all_ other differences between the sexes as stemming from this one basic difference.... Female exploitation begins here'. The search for single overarching principles unifying all forms of knowledge drives this return to Darwin. All human behaviour, E. O. Wilson echoes, 'faithfully' obeys this one biological principle: 'It pays males to be aggressive, hasty, fickle and undiscriminating... females to be coy, to hold back until they can identify the male with the best genes'. Wilson manifests the peculiarity of this tunnel vision when he equates 'an American industrial city' in the late 1970s with 'a band of hunter-gatherers in the Australian desert': 'During the day the women and children remain in the residential area while the men forage for game or its symbolic equivalent in the form of barter or money.' Dream on!\n\nHowever, the Western media have carefully selected this particular theory of immutable human nature for survival: a picaresque, if impoverished, way of construing the issues of the day. In the early 1980s the biologist Randy Thornhill and his fellow workers, also in the USA, wrote of the 'rape-adaptation hypothesis', explaining why human males will rape when their capacity to reproduce successfully is thwarted. Thornhill was generalizing from observations of the so-called 'rape' of female flies by 'frustrated' male flies (the scorpionfly), leading him to conclude that 'high status men probably rarely actually rape'. We are offered not only an evolutionary rationale for the inevitability of male violence against women, but the added bonus of extenuating justification for the class and race dynamics of the very high acquittal rates of rich, white males accused of rape \u2013 like William Kennedy Smith \u2013compared with the speedy sentencing of the huge numbers of poor, black Americans, languishing on death row. David Barash drew similar conclusions from his observations of 'rape' in ducks (the mallard duck). It may be possible to tame men's proclivities to rape when denied status and resources, these sociobiologists admit, but they all hasten to add, like Symons before them, that any such attempts to go against nature 'might well entail a cure worse than the disease.'\n\nInside the academy, the circular, anthropomorphic arguments of sociobiology were briefly held at bay by widespread and vigorous rebuttal issuing both from biological and social scientists, who highlighted sociobiologists' careful selection of particular animals on which to project, and supposedly thereby explain, categories of behaviour derived from human consciousness, culture and conduct. Given that at this time sociobiologists could not even pretend to have direct knowledge of the nature or operation of their ontologically founding category \u2013 human genes \u2013 their designated units for natural selection (as distinct from the individual organism, or groups of living creatures), there could in principle be little, if any, convincing verification (and obviously no falsification) for those who doubted their uniform narrative of the causal origins of individual and collective behaviour. At this time, molecular biologists could not claim even a scrap of knowledge about any human genes which might bear the remotest relation to the specific universal activities they were supposed to explain: an awkward failing, one might have thought, for theorists whose mantra was scientific rigour and whose goal the defeat of loose or sentimental thought and language. (The situation is not so different today.)\n\nSince the 1980s billions of dollars have been pouring into biotechnology, bringing together the latest micro-electronic processors with techniques of gene splicing in the hope of commodifying and patenting new procedures for the production and handling of plant, animal and \u2013 most controversially of all \u2013 human life. These new genetic and computer technologies were developed in the 1970s, creating widespread investment frenzies which revitalized old dreams of brave new worlds, under human control. Meanwhile, global agrichemical, pharmaceutical and computer giants have also been pouring huge investments into genetic research since the late 1980s. As Andrew Ross outlines, despite meagre profits and very little to show for the many billions invested, 'a chorus of investors, executives, and industry boosters intoned the mantras of molecular biology as if it were some new kind of alchemy'. The 'genetic revolution' had arrived. It would usher in the multi-billion-dollar Human Genome Project, attempting to map and sequence all the genes of human DNA. In the USA, federal support for the project (originating from initiatives taken in the mid-1980s) was set at $200 million a year from 1988, with state support for genome research and sequencing also accelerating in Britain, France and Japan, trailed by other Western states.\n\nWith the thralldrom to dreams of genetic utopianism encouraging a return to the grand theory which first pointed us in that direction, the spread of neo-Darwinian ideas would soon prove unstoppable. What we have today is the most bizarre and muddled mix of genetic determinisms: one minute being used to set _limits_ on the potential for possible change in human affairs; the next minute promising us a _limitless_ prosthetic future, where nothing is impossible. Nature has framed strange formulations in her time, but none quite so strange as this.\n\n## _**Evolutionary Psychology: The New Contender**_\n\nThe ambivalent pull of new Darwinian thinking is nowhere stronger than in mainstream psychology, some of whose scholars, swimming smoothly with wider currents, have moved effortlessly from earlier espousals of cultural explanations for explaining human 'social behaviour' to promoting the greater utility of modern Darwinism, or new evolutionary psychology, for the same purpose. One such prominent British psychologist, John Archer, in the forefront of emphasizing the acquisition of sex differences primarily in terms of social learning theory in the heyday of environmentalism in the 1970s, re-emerged two decades later arguing that 'evolutionary theory accounts much better for the overall patterns of sex differences and for their origins'. 'Social role theory', he has come to believe, 'accounts very poorly, if at all, for the patterns of sex differences identified by evolutionary psychologists'.\n\nEvolutionary psychology emerged as the most conspicuous 'new' theoretical perspective within the field of psychology during the 1990s. Eager to replace all rival psychological theories and systems, the most distinguished representatives, like Tooby and Cosmides, believe evolutionary psychology will finally unify psychology with hard science; while David Buss recommends it as the new paradigm for all the social sciences, under the conceptual framework of natural selection. Similarly, Martin Daly and Margo Wilson assert: 'What evolutionary psychology aspires to become [ _sic_ ] is a Kuhnian paradigm shift'. Presumably by this they mean that they are aspiring to 'effect' such a shift \u2013 ironically, in the very discipline which helped inspire Thomas Kuhn himself to write his trail-blazing _The Structure of Scientific Revolutions_ (1962) in the first place. (Kuhn reveals in its preface that he had never known what it was like to live within a science where there was so little agreement about what problems are worth pursuing, or which empirical findings are of lasting significance, until he had the experience of spending some time among academic psychologists.)\n\nNowadays, evolutionary psychologists are somewhat less reliant on animal studies than sociobiologists have been. They are on the lookout instead for any universals of human behaviour and, on finding any hint of them, at once assume an adapted genetic origin. From the close of the 1980s, there have been attempts to apply Darwinian ideas in mainstream cognitive, developmental, individual, social, psychiatric and clinical pyschology, as human cognitive functioning and social behaviour is explained in terms of adaptations which must have been 'selected for' because they were successful in human and pre-human evolution. These 'selected' behaviour patterns are described by Archer, for example, as those which have produced 'individuals who are able to pursue the reproductive strategies appropriate for their own sex'. However, as was the case with sociobiology, it is just such presumed sex-differentiated reproductive strategies which take us back to the issues most strongly disputed by those who have been contesting men's institutionalized dominance over women since the 1970s: the inevitability of men's sexual harassment and violence; the inequality of women's domestic burdens and parenting activities.\n\nIn an article published in 1998 in the _American Psychologist,_ four evolutionary psychologists in the USA summarize achievements to date, after discussions and commentary with ten other leading thinkers in the field in both Europe and America. Their central concept of an evolutionary 'adaptation' is defined, somewhat more flexibly than by Archer, as an 'inherited and reliably developing characteristic that came into existence as a feature of a species through natural selection because it helped to directly or indirectly facilitate reproduction during the period of its evolution'. They then list thirty empirical 'discoveries' about human behaviour allegedly generated by evolutionary theory, many of them explaining gender contrasts. These include: sexually dimorphic mating strategies; men's preference for younger mates; male risk-taking in intrasexual competition for mates; patterns of spousal and same-sex homicide; design of male sexual jealousy; women's desire for mates with resources; sex-linked shifts in mate selection across the lifespan; causes of conjugal dissolution; mate guarding as a function of female reproductive value; waist-to-hip ratio as a determinant of attractiveness judgements.\n\nThe overview offered by Buss and his co-writers is one of the more cautious in arguing the case for evolutionary psychology \u2013 taking note, in particular, of one of its main critics, Stephen Jay Gould. However, it is not hard to suggest other explanations for the behaviour patterns they list, however widespread across differing cultures. One does not have to believe that evolution and genetics play no role in human affairs (indeed, it would be hard to make much sense of such a claim in describing the behaviour of any living organism), to point out that the apparent universality of certain practices does _not_ entail a genetic origin. Thus, even if we choose to overlook the weight of historical, anthropological and sociological evidence for enormous variability in the area of human sexual conduct, it would still be the case that the claimed universality of sexually dimorphic behaviour patterns could as easily be seen as a cultural _effect,_ rather than as an evolved adaptation operating as a _cause,_ of the hitherto (though now often challenged) global configuration of men's greater access to economic resources and social power and privilege compared with that of women.\n\nBuss himself has produced a plentiful body of research on what he calls 'mating strategies' in the USA, Britain, and thirty-five other cultures, all showing that men declare themselves to be far more promiscuous than women, and readier to have sex with any female strangers, so long as they are young and attractive. Women, in contrast, are said universally to report desiring (or having 'mating' preferences for) ambitious, industrious men, with good financial resources. Buss is researching the same furrow as many other evolutionary psychologists, who also assure us of the reality of men's predetermined sexual promiscuity which (together with their greater predisposition for violence and risk-taking) is one of the most repeated claims of evolutionary theorists. But this, of course, is precisely what those who stress the cultural rather than the biological basis of contrasting sexual conduct themselves predict, whether via individually based 'learning theory' or discursively mediated 'social construction' perspectives: in male-dominated societies boys learn to see heterosexual activity as a confirmation of masculinity (and certainly know that boasting about their desire to perform it is the single easiest way of proclaiming their 'virility': 'whoooa!'); girls learn to value committed relationships above casual sex (or, at least, certainly discover that they ought to say so to escape being branded whatever the local vernacular for 'slag' might be, thereby also avoiding the assaultive behaviour such labelling condones: 'I prefer a good cuddle, myself').\n\nThe more humorous side to the shallowness of all this research is that were men's promiscuous boasts, and women's prudent protestations, to be accepted as indicative of selectively evolved behaviour patterns, rather than \u2013 in line with my own more sceptical hypothesis \u2013 gender-differentiating, cultural 'identity work', a tiny minority of enormously hyperactive 'young and attractive' women would have to be obliging an army of dedicatedly randy men. As Dorothy Einon suggests in relation to her own research, in which heterosexual men reported having three or four times the number of sexual partners that women did, _the figures just don't compute_ : fibbing, whether or not self-deceiving, is the best name for this statistical game, however many cultures Buss and his cohorts dedicatedly interrogate. In fact, the one constant feature of changes in the pursuit of human sexual pleasure is their negative correspondence with reproductive ends.\n\nMartin Daly and Margo Wilson, the leading US psychologists using evolutionary theory to account for homicide and male violence, have been concerned to trace the negative relation between murder and genetic closeness. This is the inverse of the new orthodoxy of 'kin selection', used by evolutionary psychologists to explain the supposedly anomolous existence of 'altruism': genes are selected for co-operative or helping behaviour towards those with shared genes. It would explain, they tell us, why husbands are far more likely to murder their wives (genetically unrelated) than their biological children, and why a child is much more likely to be murdered, or physically abused, by a step-parent than a child with two biological parents. It would _not_ explain, of course, why an overwhelmingly greater number of human parents willingly adopt children, and most typically display remarkable love and concern for them (despite the obvious lack of narcissistic gratification that comes from close physical similarity, and genetic input); neither would it explain why the American sample of males (from Detroit) should be twelve times more likely than the British sample to kill blood relatives, and a massive forty times more likely to kill non-relatives. Further, it would not explain why midwives in both the USA and Britain have been reporting for several years that violence against women often _begins_ when that woman is pregnant with a man's baby, the latest figures reported in the UK estimating this to be true for one third of women who are attacked. If one must continue to take seriously the 'evolutionary rigour' supposedly on display in such explanations of male aggression in line with competitive reproductive fitness, then one must point out that it is precisely when pregnant to their live-in partners that 'females' cannot be impregnated by rival males. It is the time when they most fully 'obey' the so-called 'Darwinian' rules for 'kin-selection', carrying 50 per cent of the aggressor's genes.\n\nIt is the complete absence of any intellectually serious form of scientific rigour which most often accompanies psychology's postulated 'paradigm shift'. The ability to produce an evolutionary scenario for supposed universal behaviours does nothing to establish its validity (ignoring for the moment the instability of the 'universals' so often selected). As critics have noted, talk of 'natural selection' is merely an empty generalization unless it is can delineate something about the evolutionary history of a trait's development: the forces operating in particular contexts which select certain features because they enhance survival over other less adaptive ones which have disappeared. Convincing evolutionary biology must offer significant historical evidence of the utility of particular traits. Evolution occurs because there is _no_ unitary or general notion of fitness in biology. There is only adaptation to local conditions. Adaptive explanations require data, and it is this which evolutionary psychologists choose to ignore, thereby 'presenting simplistic and impoverished biology rather than genuine biology', as Looren de Jong and Van Der Steen observe of the controversies generated by the work of Tooby and Cosmides on supposed universal cognitive adaptations, like their 'cheater detection' module. To the chagrin of psychologists like Steven Pinker, this is also the view of one of the most famous theorists of language, Noam Chomsky, who, despite stressing an innate capacity for 'the language faculty', rejects adaptionist accounts of language development as mere 'fairy tale', one 'that probably would have shocked Darwin'. Echoing Kuhn, several decades later, the British geneticist Steve Jones comes to much the same conclusion in his review of Pinker's _How the Mind Works_ (1997), a tome in which Pinker explains cultural beliefs in Darwinian terms: 'If you want to find schizophrenia, go to a psychology department'.\n\nSadly, we don't need to go there at all. Evolutionary psychology's flimsy evolutionary speculations could be dismissed altogether, were it not for the almost daily promotion they receive in one media outlet or another. Retiring to bed after writing this section, I flashed on the television only to be greeted by Wilson and Daly themselves, once again elaborating their narratives of sex and violence in _Anatomy of Desire._ Unlike schizophrenia, these particular cognitive inventions are highly contagious.\n\nAgainst the grain of the new dominant trend to focus on gender rather than race, evolutionary psychologists have even managed to restore 'sexual selection' for classic Darwinian ethnocentrism. Leslie Zebrowitz, for instance, reports adaptation for men to prefer 'lighter skinned women'. The evolutionary explanation on offer is that light skin is seen as more attractive in women because it is a sign of fertility: women's skin is said to darken during periods of infertility, such as pregnancy, ingestion of contraceptives, and throughout infertile phases of the menstrual cycle (although no one seems to have noticed). The empirical evidence of skin preference cannot be attributed to Western standards of beauty, Zebrowitz reassures us, as it is documented cross-culturally. Really! For this argument to be convincing, one would have to believe that white racism had confined its influence to the West, and that cultural colour hierarchy, or 'pigmentocracy' \u2013 worked out with elaborate pyramidal precision by colonialists like the conquistadors of South America or the apartheid regime in South Africa \u2013 had never existed. Given the higher status accorded to lighter skinned people in most cultures over the last 400 years (after certain global episodes like slavery and colonialisms, old and new), you don't have to have read Toni Morrison's novel _The Bluest Eye_ (1970) to suggest that it is not too taxing a task to offer a few abiding cultural explanations for empirical findings such as these.\n\nWe can, and it seems that we will, bat this ball around for ever. 'New' evolutionary theorists like to distinguish themselves from 'old' social Darwinians, like Herbert Spencer, and also sociobiologists, by claiming that they eschew rigid biological determinism with their suggestion that genetic and environmental forces always interact. Quite so. However, as Tooby and Cosmides clarify, outlining the 'psychological foundations of culture': 'instead of culture manufacturing the psychology of social exchange [their characteristically market metaphor for social life] _de novo,_ content-specific evolved psychologies constitute the building blocks out of which cultures themselves are manufactured'. Although this move is presented as _less_ biologically reductionist, it can be seen as exactly the opposite. In the first instance \u2013 and no doubt, also in the last instance \u2013 for such thinkers, culture never exists autonomously from genetic selection.\n\nFor example, faced with evidence of the widespread, punitive cultural policing of individual nonconformity to gender and sexual norms (which are said to underlie the evolved reproductive fitness of males and females), the evolutionary psychologist will instantly retort that, of course, culture itself is _already_ selected for: 'Gender differences result from an interaction of evolved predispositions and the cultures created by people with these predispositions'. How could cultures be selected for, those stressing the relative autonomy of culture would immediately ask, when they are so very diverse? Some societies deny all sexual expression to women outside marriage on pain of death; in others, women are almost as likely as men today to have multiple sexual partners before, during and after marriage \u2013 if they choose to marry at all (and whether or not we speak the truth to prying psychologists). Insignificant detail, the evolutionary theorist will argue back: the important point is to establish that 'cultures are in some ways _constrained_ by the genes of the individuals making up the culture'. Constrained? It is rather unfortunate that Douglas Kenrick and Melanie Trost, the two evolutionary theorists I have just been quoting, illustrate their argument about biological limits with the rather silly example that a culture which required '10-year-olds to fly off a 1,000-foot cliff would not survive long'. Well, no; unless there was an airport on the cliff. A remark by Richard Lewontin, the Harvard geneticist and leading critic of such constraining applications of evolutionary theory, seems only too apt:\n\n> If we have to characterize social organization and its consequences, it is that social organization does not reflect the limitations of individual biological beings but is their _negation._... No individual human beings can fly by flapping his or her arms and legs. That indeed is a biological limitation.... [But] Individuals fly... they fly as a consequence of social organization.\n\nLewontin thinks he knows the way to settle this tedious argument, and I agree with him. But before returning to the enemy within \u2013 the _biologists_ who in my view deliver the _coup de gr\u00e2ce_ to evolutionary psychologists seeking assimilation to a biology they erroneously perceive as unified \u2013 I want to consider those feminists who have been convinced by evolutionary arguments, but use them to their own ends. Another type of enemy within, but within a different camp!\n\n## _**The Tale of the Female Ape**_\n\nAlthough many feminists have forcefully criticized the return to Darwin, others have joined the trend and become Darwinians themselves. It is an engaging coupling. For what they observe when they go down among the animals, survey our human ancestors or make comparisons across cultures is rather different from the more familiar formulations of their male peers, who reiterate legacies of male dominance, competition, promiscuity and violence. The number of women in biology, primatology and psychology has increased rapidly since the 1970s, as ever more women raced into further education. Accompanying the growth of feminism and women's studies, many shifted their focus from the male to the female ape. What a difference gender makes \u2013 the gender of the observer!\n\nNot male baboons, but females, we would soon be told, often dominate the social group, hold it together, and initiate sexual encounters. By 1982, Linda Fedigan, in _Primate Paradigms,_ had summarized the new research: it offered a challenge to the traditional stereotypes of female monkeys and apes, and a demonstration of female bonding and self-sufficiency in relation to caring for offspring within a rich variety of patterns of female sexual behaviour. The best known of the new female primatologists include Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, Jane Goodall, Meredith Small and Barbara Smuts. In _The Woman that Never Evolved_ (1981), Hrdy describes female monkeys and apes who are in different ways independent, assertive and competitive. Similarly, Small writes of many species of apes and monkeys where the female approaches the male, pushing her genitals in his face, slapping him, initiating sexual advances and clearly enjoying sexual games. Both Goodall and Smuts used their primate studies to rebut the standard evolutionary argument that female apes are more selective and prudent than male apes, indicating that adult female chimpanzees typically mate successively with almost every male in their group during certain phases of the oestrus cycle, while adult male chimpanzees can be extremely selective in their choice of sexual contact. Elsewhere, Smuts reports no consistent gender dimorphism in aggression across different primate species, arguing that environmental contexts affect both male and female aggression, as well as how the sexes influence each other.\n\nHowever, if we really want a glimpse of primate feminist Utopia (replacing the male dominance\/promiscuity thesis), we need to join those chimpanzee experts, like Frans de Waal or Wrangham and Peterson, observing the communities of the bonobo apes which, it is now generally agreed, are definitely dominated by coalitions between females. Among bonobos, living in resource-rich, gorilla-free areas, sexual activities are reported as more frequent and varied, including female to female genital rubbing (called the _hoka-hoka_ by the Mongandu of Central Africa) and male on male sexual activities. The female bonding in these close primate relatives is seen as cemented through such 'genito-genital' rubbing which, by serving to strengthen female coalitions, decreases male violence. Drawing on this research in support of her own political lesbian agenda in a recent issue of _Feminism and Psychology,_ Louise Silverstein argues that psychologists should pay much closer attention to 'the importance of lesbian _[sic]_ sex among our closest primate relatives', and explore 'the evolutionary implications of this same-sex behavior for decreasing male violence in human primate society'. She also mentions the possibility of deep evolutionary origins of practices like clitoridectomy in male attempts to limit the establishment of female power coalitions and to ensure the continuity of their own genes by preventing females from having multiple sexual partners.\n\nMore promiscuous than the male evolutionary theorist, the feminist evolutionary biologist or anthropologist has sought out the variability in protohumans, stressing that evolution has selected for reproductive flexibility, rather than universal patterns. Surveying human diversity, these feminist theorists tend to emphasize the absence of any single evolutionary patterns in human development, suggesting evolutionary processes have favoured instead patterns of 'plasticity and behavioral variation'. It is over a decade since the feminist biologist Ruth Bleier announced in 1986: 'Primatology thus serves as an example of the correction that a feminist perspective can effect in a field of knowledge... [it] is a lone example in the natural sciences of dramatic changes made under feminist viewpoints.' However, I am more sceptical than Bleier about the progressive impact feminists have managed to make through their interventions in primatology.\n\nWomen primatologists have certainly helped to undermine the androcentric language and interpretations of many of their peers, for whom the male predator remains the pre-eminent narrative. In their texts, much of the feminist-inflected focus in primatology appears more concerned about the dangers of anthropomorphism, and more self-reflexive. Women researchers have paid attention to the effects of differing social environments on the activities of male primates and, above all, collected information on female lives and behaviour. It was this research which first seriously challenged the consensus of the 1960s that the crucial transition to human evolution was via the hunter-gatherer adaptation: an account of human history memorialized in 1966 at the 'Man the Hunter' conference in Chicago, organized by Richard Lee and Irven de Vore. A succession of feminist palaeontologists and anthropologists during the 1970s and 1980s added to the work of women primatologists, all challenging what Linda Fedigan labelled the misleading 'baboonization' of protohominids, used to insist upon evolutionary selection for male dominance and aggression. As Adrienne Zihlman documents, women scientists collected ethnographic studies from fossil hominid records, and researched foraging societies, to uncover women's role in prehistory: often as efficient food-gatherers, sometimes as effective hunters, or in other ways engaged in subsistence, nutrition and work.\n\nYet, three decades after the first challenges to the hunting hypothesis, Zihlman reflects that all this new research on female behaviour seems to have resulted in little change in the traditional tale of human origins in most mainstream textbooks or educational documentaries, despite the critical mass of divergent data. As Linda Fedigan similarly notes, 'the reception of feminist critique by practicing scientists, including women scientists, has often been less than positive'. Furthermore, although offering forceful and vivid contrasts with earlier male researchers' neglect of female behaviour, the goal of restoring women to evolutionary history can itself prove problematic when used to explain human societies. It is vulnerable to some of the same traps as earlier sociobiological research. As anthropologist Susan Sperling wryly notes: 'The new female primate is dressed for success and lives in a troop that resembles the modern corporation: now everyone gets to eat power lunches on the savanna.' It is my impression that the newer studies on female primates _have_ influenced the mainstream agenda of evolutionary theorists, but not necessarily in ways which add to their theoretical or methodological sophistication.\n\nDawkins has no problem writing of the bonobo ape as being as genetically close to humans as any other type of ape. He merely adds, true to his unifying principle of natural selection propelled by the 'selfish' gene, that in this particular primate 'altruism at the level of the individual organism' just happens to be 'a means by which the underlying genes maximize their self-interest'. Similarly, Robert Wright is happy to take on board that 'there are a few eccentric sex-reversed species' (referring to the phalaropes or 'sea horses'), but 'these ostensible exceptions to Darwinian logic comply with and bolster it'. In the codes of his chosen theory, the zoologist Iver Mysterud urges all evolutionary theorists to show greater appreciation of the criticisms and the specific agendas of feminist biologists, in order to speed up the dissemination of evolutionary thinking and secure its status in the evolving 'hierarchies among scientists': 'Often, it is not an optimal long-term strategy to humiliate the \"enemy\" too much in the first round, if one can secure an ally in the next round by treating him or her politely\/gently'.\n\nThe work of one of Britain's leading evolutionary psychologists still doing animal research is typical of more recent agendas: Robin Dunbar's _Grooming, Gossip and the Evolution of Language_ (1996) sets out to offer a more woman-friendly, postfeminist evolutionary account of the origins of human behaviour. Dunbar writes that early, or protohuman, females were central to the invention of language, as a form of 'gossip': The conventional view is that language evolved to enable males to do things like co-ordinate hunts more effectively.... I am suggesting that language evolved to allow us to gossip'; 'the pressure to evolve language may well have come through the need to form and service female alliances'. Although more attentive to female behaviour, Dunbar nevertheless offers the same reductionist neglect of either the complexities of human evolution or the diversities of human behaviour. In his account, women today, as yesterday, and like females everywhere, want men for breeding; males today, as yesterday, are more aggressive than women, because of competition for females: 'The difference between the sexes reflects crucial differences in their reproductive strategies'. And once again, informing us that we can forget that old 'bugaboo of genetic determinism', we are 'reassured' that evolutionary theorists no longer ignore what they call cultural 'rules'. They no longer need to: 'Learning is _just_ another example of a Darwinian process: it is differential survival of traits (behavioural rules in this case) as a result of selection' So much, apparently, for the objections of those who stress the significance of culture, whose 'problem', we are told, 'is largely one of misinformation \u2013 sometimes exacerbated by a refusal to listen'.\n\nI think not. This is no refusal to listen, but obstinate attention to certain new twists in the curtailing of culture. What we have here is a biological absolutism more incompatible than ever with any serious recognition of the dynamics of culture, and its role in the formation of human existence. Such scientific grandiosity is always blind to its own ideological imbrication, even when, as in Dunbar, it parrots the most fatuous, market-driven homilies: 'The other key lesson of the Darwinian approach is that in real life nothing comes for free'; 'left to their own devices, people will be moderate and tolerant', but their behaviour in groups 'has sullied the history of our species since time immemorial'. Perhaps one could put them in fortune cookies, along with Steven Pinker's similar sub-Darwinian sack of cliches: _'Gratitude_ calibrates the desire to reciprocate according to the costs and benefits of the original act' (as every worker who contributes to their boss's profit will know); 'The love of kin comes naturally; the love of non-kin does not' (as children who are sexually abused \u2013 between 75 and 80 per cent of them by their biological fathers \u2013 might mutter). Love of kin 'is the fundamental fact of the social world, steering everything from how we grow up to the rise and fall of empires and religions' (who needs history, economics, sociology?). Enough! No more! This is helping no one.\n\nWhen Donna Haraway presented her comprehensive history of primatology, in _Primate Visions,_ paying attention to recent feminist work on female primates, it was almost universally panned by primatologists \u2013 including some self-defining feminists such as Meredith Small. What would prove so controversial in Haraway's overview was not any lack of interest in the findings of primatologists, which tell us a great deal about both primate behaviour and those who study them. Her critics objected, first of all, to the attention she paid to the particular discourses, goals and assumptions which researchers bring to their study of the material world, making all scientific knowledge itself a product of that _interaction_ between observers and their objects of study. They objected, even more strongly, to Haraway's questioning of the notion shared by most primatologists (whether focusing on male dominance or female bonding or anything else) that their studies provide us with knowledge about the growth and change in human societies and cultural formations, let alone a blueprint for them. Her views, however, are in agreement with those of some of the most eminent researchers in biology itself, reacting in equal horror to both the misuse of Darwin and the new 'gene talk' which some in their discipline condone or even flaunt.\n\n## _**Theoretical Pluralists: The Enemy Within**_\n\nAlthough an increasingly influential group of biologists, psychologists and other social scientists have been explaining the hottest topics of the day \u2013 from mate preference and 'detection of cheaters' to violence and rape \u2013 according to the adaptations of our ancestral genes, others have been moving in a different direction. There is so much more to biology than the current prominence of evolutionary theory might suggest that it is hard to know where to begin. I have been intimating that Darwin himself should not be held responsible for all the simplifications now advanced in his name. The palaeontologist Niles Eldredge, for example, writes of the 'reinvention' of Darwin, while the leading British neurobiologist Steven Rose similarly tries to 'rescue Darwin' from his 'over-solicitous friends'. Meanwhile, Gould reflects on what a very strange time it is 'to be a fundamentalist about adaptation and natural selection \u2013 when each major subdiscipline of evolutionary biology has been discovering other mechanisms as adjuncts to selection's centrality'. So, before proceeding further, perhaps we need to remind ourselves that Darwin's basic insight is as uncontentious as it is remarkable \u2013 except to religious fundamentalists!\n\nAll living things have descended over many millions of years from the very simplest living matter, diversifying, flourishing and dying out, through a variety of means, only some of which have to do with genes: mutation, selection, accident and contingency. The lineage defined as _Homo sapiens_ emerged in the Pleistocene age, a mere hundred thousand years ago. We all ought to be able to agree on this: whether or not we favour the orthodox Darwinian view of 'phyletic gradualism', the very slow and steady appearance of new species via 'the accumulation of innumerable slight variations' over thousands of years, favoured by Dawkins; or 'punctuated equilibrium', the sudden emergence of dramatic change following catastrophic natural events (like the Cambrian explosion, a short period between 535 and 530 million years ago, when nearly all multi-cellular animals first appear in fossil records), surrounded by huge spans of millions of years with little change at all in many fossil species \u2013 the theory favoured by Eldredge and Gould. It is clear, however, that to accept the principle of extended stability or stasis as the standard situation for successful and widespread species (with between five and ten million years of equilibrium in many invertebrate species) is to mute somewhat the favoured apocalyptic sting, not to mention the short-term monetarist rhetoric, in the neo-Darwinian tale. In Britain, after the excesses of the first brood of eugenicist Darwinians hoping to improve the human race had faded into ignominy, the second generation, like J. B. S. Haldane or Julian Huxley in the 1940s, emphasized the significance of random variations and historical contingency as forces in evolution, alongside natural selection. Today, the startling new enthusiasm for the idea that our gene histories determine our cultural futures occurs _despite,_ not _because of,_ new genetic knowledge. As another enemy of the new Darwinians, the Harvard geneticist Richard Lewontin, puzzles: 'the technical literature of evolutionary genetics has emphasized more and more the random and historically contingent nature of genetic change over time'.\n\nDawkins sees the 'sophisticated academic left', in sinister alliance with the fundamentalist right, as sharing 'a joint opposition to the theory of evolution'. But I have yet to meet any one who had any serious quarrel with it, however 'sophisticated' their theory of truth, as always mediated through language, and its differing discourses. The conflict is not with Darwin, but with Dawkins's, and others', 'dumbing down' of Darwin; ironically, the 'condescending and patronizing' practice he believes he has dedicated his life to combating. As many molecular biologists have noted, genes (and the gradual, small changes which can lead them to 'mutate', or change) are neither the _only,_ and far from the _necessary,_ driving forces of evolutionary history. In Steven Rose's pithy summary of those he calls the 'ultra-Darwinians': 'the individual gene is not the only level at which selection occurs'; 'natural selection is not the only force driving evolutionary change'; 'organisms are not indefinitely flexible to change'; 'organisms are not mere passive responders to selective forces but active players in their own destiny'. As discussed further in the next section, there is no unifying principle which drives either genetic or social change. On the one hand, tweaking a rat's whiskers causes changes in gene expression in the sensory cortex. On the other, quite staggering changes in the nature of the world have been propelled with very few, if any, ties to genetic change. This should be immediately obvious from the fact that as humans we share 99 per cent of our genes with primate apes. But with or without the primophilia which might seduce us back to the bonobo at play, we would have to agree that there is no parallel in their society to the changes which have occurred within human culture.\n\nThus Stephen Jay Gould, the ogre of new evolutionary theorists, remains close to the spirit of Darwin, despite his erudition on the _incommensurabilities_ between world history and natural evolution: 'In an unmeasurable blink of a geological eyelash, human cultural change has transformed the surface of our planet as no event of natural evolution could ever accomplish at Darwinian scales of myriad generations.' Human culture can always be passed on immediately to one's heirs (biological or otherwise) in speedy and direct Lamarckian fashion, while genetic evolution must move along the inordinately slower, indirect pathways of Darwinian random mutation, natural selection, or contingency. The central point, made repeatedly by the critics of contemporary Darwinians reversing the reel to explain why we are the way we are, is that changes in genetic structure, which may survive as adaptations to particular environments, are precisely what Darwin saw them to be: 'local adaptations'. The adaptations that may enable an organism to survive in one situation are not optimal in any general way, they will differ from those that promote survival in another. Genes which were not selected for may survive because they happen to reside alongside genes which were optimal for adaptation, or simply as by-products or co-options, of features which survived as contributing to reproductive fitness. Gould and Lewontin have called these fortuitous features which emerge and flourish, though they may not themselves have contributed to genetic fitness, 'exaptations' or 'spandrels'.\n\nIllustrating the non-adaptationist account of human mental functioning, Gould, Lewontin, Robert Brandon and many other scientific researchers have often commented that the complexity of the human brain and its extraordinary endowment, for example, was not selected for in order to enable humans to read and write (skills which emerged many centuries after the appearance of those bigger brains). Rather, these skills emerged as by-products of the potential of those already evolved brains. Indeed, historical evidence supporting genuine adaptive explanations is lacking for all higher mental processes, which is what makes their postulation by evolutionary psychologists so vacuous and facile. Against the fundamentalist or ultra-Darwinians, such Darwinian pluralists as Gould, Lewontin and Rose argue that what millions of years of genetic change has selected for in human species is not any single set of 'natural' rules for development ('sexual' or otherwise); rather, it has brought about the far more impressive, open and flexible trend towards ever greater complexity, ever greater adaptability: 'if biology is indeed destiny', Rose concludes, 'then that destiny is constrained freedom'. Inside biology, there is a multiplicity of explanatory levels, although many within the field have constantly to battle against the publicly favoured followers of genetic foundationalism in order to point this out.\n\n## _**Gene Talk versus Social Change**_\n\n_'Thanks for the genes, Mom',_ young gay Americans declare on their T-shirts, or simply ' _Xq28',_ the supposed location of the 'gay gene' in men. _'Gene Police! You \u2013 Out of the Pool!.'_ , other Americans jest, in warning buttons on their lapels. They are all tuned in to the new quasi-religious rhetoric coming from molecular biologists today working on the 'human genome project' (its birthplace and epicentre in the USA), seeking to map or sequence all the genetic material in the twenty-four different chromosomes to be found in human organisms. 'The Genetic Gods', as evolutionary biologist John Avise refers to genes, 'mastermind our lives... even our fears and aspirations'. Robert Sinsheimer, one of the two biologists largely responsible for initiating the project in the mid-1980s, declares: 'For the first time in all time, a living creature understands its origin and can undertake to design its future'. Another advocate for the genome project, Walter Gilbert, expounds his 'vision' of the 'Holy Grail', while fellow Nobel Prize scientist, and first director of the US government's genome project, James Watson, declares his dedication to the 'glorious goal'. (It was Watson's and Francis Crick's discovery of the double-helix structure of DNA in 1953 \u2013 with the unsung assistance of Rosalind Franklin \u2013 which laid the groundwork for the rising supremacy of molecular biology in the sciences, disturbing the erstwhile dominance of physics and its massive funding for military research.) With hubristic certainty, these champions of our DNA believe that genes alone reveal 'what it is to be human', holding the key to our future \u2013 the ultimate solution to all our problems, individual and social alike.\n\nIn Britain, gene talk is just as ubiquitous. In 1996 the late Hans Eysenck declared, quite falsely: 'molecular genetics... has enabled us to pinpoint specific gene alleles for specific emotional reactions'. Not only 'depression', but even 'a disposition to experience unpleasant life events', is inherited, his methodological clone Michael Eysenck had already broadcast to the world in 1986. One decade later, this startling claim is 'confirmed', once again with widespread media uptake in the British press, as Welsh psychologist Peter McGuffin claims to have located a 'gloom gene'. Nowadays, it seems, there is hardly an area of human behaviour, no matter how clearly culturally diverse and complex \u2013 from good mothering to divorce or moral turpitude \u2013 that is not thrust back onto genetic foundations. Such is the force of the current cultural hegemony of genetic anti-culturalism that few people even bother to report that those who look just a little closer at the research which generates such media publicity find it not remotely conclusive. Indeed, as we shall shortly see, some biologists argue that these claims only _sound_ intelligible to those who already close their eyes to the complexities of the behaviour of living things (as well as to the mobilities of language and representation).\n\nDespite the race to promote belief in the genetic control of human destiny from the 1980s, pursued aggressively by politicans and entrepreneurs in alliance with adroit stars from molecular biology, the Human Genome Project was from the beginning attacked by fellow biologists as 'bad science'. ' \"No, not the human genome!' \", was the response of one 'distinguished biologist' whom James Watson consulted; 'as though he were talking about syphilis', Watson laments. Another influential supporter of the project, James Wyngaarden, admitted in 1990: 'If you took a vote in the biological sciences on the project, it would lose overwhelmingly'. Indeed, many of the most eminent US molecular geneticists in the early 1990s, like almost all those in the Harvard University Medical School, launched a national campaign attempting to halt the project as a 'waste of resources', diverting funds from far more important areas of biological research and training into premature and pointless sequencing of DNA molecules. (While state budgeting for the genome project rose fivefold between 1988 and 1990 \u2013 and was set to rise to $3 billion over the next fifteen years \u2013 there was a large decline in funding for other projects.) Meanwhile, as more wealthy nations began to join in the venture of mapping the human genome, fearing to miss out on its popular scientific and industrial momentum, similar objections were raised by biologists elsewhere. Most graphically, the French newspaper _Le Figaro_ portrayed its goal as one attempting 'to list the millions of letters in an encyclopedia without having the power to interpret them, ignoring all vocabulary of syntax'.\n\nSuch distrust of the project was eminently rational. All biologists now know that between 90 and 95 per cent of the base pairs of DNA, being so painstakingly sequenced and entered as part of the human genome, are what is referred to as 'nitrons', or 'junk DNA', with _no_ known function. They do not code for anything at all. 'How are you going to identify a gene if it is interspersed with so much junk?', Watson was repeatedly asked, admitting that it 'is obviously going to be hard in some cases'. Hard indeed! The genome consists of more than _three billion_ nucleotide base pairs on each of the twenty-three pairs of human chromosomes, which are believed to contain a mere _100,000_ genes. (Genes are ordered sequences of nucleotides which actively encode for or send messages that have a specific functional outcome.) As the expert on Huntingdon's disease, Nancy Wexler explains, when looking for genetic mutations, 'What we are searching for is comparable to a fraction of an inch on the circumference of the globe!'\n\nBut problems do not end there. For the 'gene' sequences which operate to encode outcomes do not form any single or discrete set, unlike the theoretical entities assumed in models of genetic transmission, referred to as genes 'for' some particular outcome. Thus, even when 'gene' sequences have been tracked down, this does not tell us anything like as much as we might hope, because they are in constant and shifting interaction with their cellular environment such that the same DNA messages have multiple functions within a single context, and have different meanings in different contexts. Genetic activity is not constant, but modified by the presence or absence of other genes in the genome, by the cellular environment, and by a multitude of external circumstances, from temperature or exposure to different metals to viral infection and the presence or absence of all manner of other social and physical environmental features. Thus the same behavioural outcome can result from quite different gene sequences. For example, as Steven Rose reports, the gene mutation creating high levels of cholesterol in the blood can result from quite divergent mutations in different people. There are clearly a multitude of uncertainties in seeking the genetic origins of human behaviour.\n\nEven if we could agree on how to identify behaviour phenotypically (itself profoundly contentious for many of the complex manifestations now thought in need of genetic explanation), the molecular underpinnings are inevitably forbiddingly convoluted. Moreover, despite genome rhetoric, 'the' composite human genome, when it eventually is sequenced as a model of a Eurasian male, will correspond to no one, as there is genetically no hypothetical average person: every human genome is unique, with any two individuals differing by as much as three million bases.\n\nThis is why trying to understand and treat even the very rare, genetically 'simple' diseases, like haemophilia, proves hugely complicated. As Lewontin notes: 'hemophiliacs differ from people whose blood clots normally by one of 208 different DNA variations, all in the same gene'. This leads him to conclude:\n\n> The problem of telling a coherent causal story, and of then designing a therapy based on knowledge of the DNA sequence in such a case, is that we do not know _even in principle_ all of the functions of the different nucleotides in a gene, or how the specific context in which a nucleotide appears may affect the way in which the cell machinery interprets the DNA; nor do we have any but the most rudimentary understanding of how a whole functioning organism is put together from its protein bits and pieces... [B]ecause there is no single, standard, \"normal\" DNA sequence that we all share, observed sequence differences between sick and well people cannot, in themselves, reveal the genetic cause of a disorder. At the least, we would need the sequences of many sick and many well people to look for common differences between sick and well. But if many diseases are like hemophilia, common differences will not be found and we will remain mystified.\n\nLewontin, like Ruth Hubbard, Steven Rose, Hilary Rose and many others doing biological research, point to the dangers arising from the increasing popularity of DNA testing by employers, insurers and others. When patterns of transmission are unpredictable and depend upon unknown physical, social and psychological external factors, alongside complex and unstable internal cellular features, a new category of the 'potentially' ill or disabled can threaten the life chances made available to the perfectly healthy. Indeed, there are so many flaws in the vision of the human genome as supplying the ultimate causes of human behaviour that it is hardly surprising that its critics regard it as more treacherous than useful. They are not only concerned with the astronomical cost its sequencing entails, and the low probability of it generating useful knowledge, but even more with the very high probability of its abuse and misuse. Most of all, they fear that 'gene hunters' feed an ideological climate which diverts attention away from the analysis of environmental and social problems, in a deplorable repetition of the thinking and rhet-oric behind the delusions of eugenicists in the early decades of the twentieth century: inventing genes for 'nomadism', 'shiftlessness', 'pauperism' and 'criminality' to condemn the working class, immigrants and 'non-Aryans' alike.\n\nThe claims we now hear almost daily, linking genes with diseases (schizophrenia, manic depression or cancer), with social failure (unemployment, risk-taking, hyperactivity, shyness, gloom), with social and sexual deviance (alcoholism, homosexuality, even bad mothering) or with general misfortune (homelessness), are all boosted by the existence of the genome project. As Ruth Hubbard and Elijah Wald remark, each misleading claim of some new gene 'for' any specific condition is given maximum media exposure, although invariably based upon tiny samples of people, and rarely replicated:\n\n> Like mirages, many of these genes disappear when one tries to look at them closely \u2013 the claims about manic depression and schizophrenia genes were withdrawn soon after their announcement and the gene for alcoholism has met a similar fate. However, there are so many gene stories that people are left with the impression that our genes control everything.\n\nMeanwhile, the dangers of DNA testing stem not only from the uneven outcome of genetic markers, even those which have been shown to be reliably linked with disease, but from the fact that such knowledge at present bears negligible relation to possible cures. Thus knowledge of the biochemical abnormalities in sickle cell anaemia has been known for twenty-five years, with no cure in sight; just as there is no cure for Down's syndrome, Huntington's or Tay-Sachs disease. Even some of those who are strongly in favour of the Human Genome Project, such as Nancy Wexler, confess: For a while we may have the worst of all possible worlds \u2013 limited or no treatments, high hopes and probably unrealistic expectations, insurance repercussions \u2013 everything to challenge our inventiveness and stamina.' But it is precisely a _lack_ of inventiveness and stamina which genetic boosterism has encouraged: the denial of the intrinsic uncertainties and complexities in genetic transactions; and the reduction of social problems to flimsy biological speculations elevating dreams of genetic omnipotence and normalization. Such denial and reductionism was regularly flaunted by the molecular biologist David Koshland, while editor of the globally influential _Science_ magazine, when the Human Genome Project was being launched around the world at the close of the 1980s as 'a new technology to aid the poor, the infirm, and the underprivileged'. These were, of course, the very people in most danger of being scorned and neglected by beliefs in a genetic underclass, those who could be dismissed as the losers in life's genetic lottery' (in the words of the American psychologist Robert Plomin, who \u2013 most appropriately, given the hospital's origins and controversial history \u2013 was recruited in 1998 by the Maudsley Institute of Psychiatry in London). Meanwhile, Hollywood, like Aldous Huxley half a century earlier, is once again depicting the dystopian potential of this new genetic order, in such films as _Gataca._\n\nInverting earlier beliefs, it is now 'nature', rather than 'nurture', which has been deemed infinitely malleable in the dreams of some molecular biologists as well as their political and commercial sponsors. This is despite the billions invested in human biotechnology over the last forty years, so far producing so little in useful treatments \u2013 with the notable exceptions of the synthesis of a bacterial protein for use in haemophilia, and the engendering of the secretion of hormones in sheep which are useful for human growth. As the eminent British geneticist Steve Jones admitted in 1997, the idea of curing known inherited disease by replacing DNA is a 'piece of biological hubris': 'How the DNA in a virtually formless egg is translated into an adult body remains almost a mystery'. Undaunted, the conceptual shift to aggrandize the notion of 'genetic disease', and their biological elimination, continues apace, as often as not referring to psychological states which may well be _neither_ genetic, _nor_ diseases. The latter is likely to include the persistent, unreliable and unreplicated reports of biological markers for varieties of sexual and social deviance, mental illness and suffering \u2013 the very human predicaments rendered so ambiguous under critical conceptual scrutiny only a few decades ago.\n\nIronically, two contradictory trends have intensified rather than resolved old clashes between culture and science, to the detriment of useful collaboration. On the one hand, the rise of cultural studies encouraged interdisciplinary efforts to blur the demarcations between distinct disciplinary sources of knowledge, strongly supported by most (but not all) feminist scholarship. It emphasized the constitutive role of language and cultural context in different areas of scientific thought and practices \u2013 with their inbuilt normative investments. On the other hand, this exacerbated a counter-trend, sometimes taking the form of direct backlash against cultural studies and feminist critique, in which the very notion of 'culture' is vanishing from the favoured conceptual framework of the social and biological sciences \u2013 evident in a trend to replace 'social' with 'life' or 'human' sciences. As Evelyn Fox Keller argues persuasively: 'in terms that increasingly dominate contemporary discourse, \"culture\" has become subsumed under biology.' Evolutionary psychologists, as discussed above, have helped to consummate this particular disappearing act. Declaring their interest in culture or the effects of nurture on individual development, they nevertheless assume that 'culture is part of our biology'. In the view he favours, Henry Plotkin explains that this is so 'because the traits that _cause_ culture have been selected for'. More elaborately, Richard Dawkins, Daniel Dennett and Susan Blakemore refer to cultural inheritance as 'memes'. As Dawkins outlines, in strict analogy with his founding category of the 'gene', a 'meme' is 'anything that replicates itself from brain to brain, via an available means of copying.... The genes build the hardware. The memes are the software' Responding in dismay to such reductionist axioms, Steve Jones protests: 'Just as geneticists begin to realize how far it is between DNA and organism, their subject is being hijacked. Society is, it seems, little more than the product of genes'\n\n## _**For Epistemic Diversity**_\n\nIt is this peculiar form of ideological reductionism which enables today's genetic aficionados to believe they can replace earlier eugenicist enthusiasm for population control (via brutal government-sponsored sterilization campaigns against the 'unfit' and 'degenerate') with the more fashionable emphasis on the 'free choice' of individuals. Every person has a right to 'normal' genes: 'individuals have a right to be born with a normal, adequate hereditary environment' (as if we could all agree on what that 'normal' might be, or could remain in control of our 'choices' should we allow some expert to genetically engineer it!). Never before have social problems \u2013 present and future \u2013 been so mechanically translated into illusive individual responsibilities. The extraordinary presupposition is that attempts at tackling the escalating environmental pollutants which provoke disease (and genetic mutations), or the economic and social sources of rising poverty, homelessness, unemployment, crime, violence, family breakdown and mental illness, have all failed. Intervention must begin on what is now declared their true origins: genetic predispositions.\n\nIt is this doctrine which James Watson believes we will all eventually come to accept, giving thanks to those who work to produce the 'good genetic maps that allow us to locate culprit chromosomes': 'Ignoring genes is like trying to solve a murder without finding the murderer. All we have are victims.' To the contrary, as Ruth Hubbard and Elijah Wald point out, the lives of many women with breast cancer, for example, might have been saved if funding had been redirected from genetic research to decreasing the levels of radiation and environmental pollutants to which people are exposed. Even the discovery of cancer-triggering oncogenes, several decades ago, has not put a cure for cancer within reach. Instead, it has revealed just how complicated are the diverse processes which might transform normal cellular genes into oncogenic genes by viral infection and other external physical or chemical agents. Ironically, this is one of the few areas of genetic research where the key scientists met continual resistance from their peers, precisely because the factors affecting oncogenesis were environmental, which meant, as David Kevles explains, that their work was seen as not 'respectable genetics'.\n\nYet searching for oncogenes, which provide one key to the mechanisms producing cancer (however externally triggered, and hence preventable by attention to the environment), is itself far less problematic than the activities of many other gene hunters. One thinks immediately of Dean Hamer, and his team of colleagues at the National Cancer Institute in Maryland in the USA, searching for a 'gay gene' marker on the X chromosome. Yet to be replicated, and facing instant technical criticism for its neglect of the genetic makeup of the non-gay brothers of its sample of men, Hamer's research is based upon a study of forty self-declared homosexual brothers (recruited through advertisements in gay publications). It ignores what is probably the largest group of men who have sex with other men, at truck stops or in public toilets, those who are heterosexually married \u2013 since this would immediately put into question who is 'gay' and who is 'straight'. It also leaves out lesbian sexuality which, despite and because of the dramatic rise in the visibility of such practices since the rebirth of feminism, is hardly attributable to some massive genetic mutation.\n\nThe point is that attempting to reduce culture to biology, _or_ biology to culture, can only impoverish us all. There is not, and never could be, any single, unified project with the capacity to encompass the different levels of explanation necessary for understanding the complexity of human affairs. It is true that some who have turned of late to totalizing Darwinian or genetic visions have done so in criticism of recent cultural theorists' dismissal of the relevance of the body, and either its evolutionary history or changing biological potential. They rightly reject the idea that exploring the meanings we attach to bodily states, and their accompanying performative enactments (or psychic investments), is all we know, and all we ever need to know, about our corporeal reality. Such absolute cultural appropriation of the lifespans of any living creature is about as foolish as imagining that they are merely machines for the replication of DNA, irrespective of time and place.\n\nOne obvious illustration is the issue of human reproduction, so central in biological versus cultural contentions, for ultra-Darwinians, feminists and cultural theorists alike. The former see only sexually dimorphic adaptations for the most efficient gene dispersal. The latter, looking through the lens of culture, know that bodies are produced in particular discourses with strong normative and symbolic meanings. Thus, women's bodies are always defined by their capacity for pregnancy, even though they are reproductively infertile for significant portions of their lives, and their potential for childbearing is something women in the industrialized world choose _not_ to exercise throughout most of their lives. Clearly, the gene's-eye view for maximum reproductive advantage explains next to nothing about \u2013 indeed can only distort \u2013 the complexity and variation in women's lives and experiences: why women today continue to have fewer children; why they have them later in life; why in growing numbers they raise them independently of the biological father (whether from choice or force of circumstance); why a significant minority choose not to have children at all.\n\nHowever, knowing that we are not at the mercy of our genes does not mean that we can ignore women's reproductive biology. As described in the previous chapter, the body's biological capacity for impregnation can play a crucial role in the desires and fears which govern women's lives, at least some of the time. Moreover, it is not only cultural meanings, but also physiological events, which will be affected by cultural patterns, making reproductive cycles themselves culturally contingent. Thus, as the medical anthropologists Susan Sperling and Yewoubdar Beyene point out, there is no universal biological pattern for the female reproductive cycle, and hence, not even potentially, a universal biological experience. In non-industrial societies, for example, ovulation begins on average many years later than in Western countries, menopause occurs up to a decade earlier, and frequent pregnancy and prolonged lactation work to suppress the menstrual cycle. Thus while Western women now experience approximately _thirty-five_ years of ovulatory cycles, late menarche, early menopause and prolonged breastfeeding mean that in non-industrial societies the menstrual cycles experienced by women are approximately only _four_ years. Sperling and Beyene therefore rightly emphasize the necessity of analysing the autonomous complexity of both biology and culture in reproductive studies, if we are to gain any clear understanding of how either biological plasticity, or cultural diversity, interact to produce reproductive experience. The one does not reduce to the other.\n\nThe dream that the explanation of life, from the molecular to the social, can be explained in terms of a few overarching laws returns us to the founding metaphors of Western science, three centuries ago. Today, the favoured metaphor is that of the calculating machine or computer, especially endorsed by cognitive psychologists. As Donna Haraway notes: 'communications sciences and modern biologies are constructed by a common move \u2013 the translation of the world into a problem of coding, a search for a common language in which all resistance to instrumental control disappears and all heterogeneity can be submitted to disassembly, reassembly, investment and exchange'. She should know. Her own imagery of the 'feminist cyborg' is one which breaks down distinctions between organism and machine, destroying identities, categories and relationships, in the hope of building 'a montrous world without gender'.\n\nWe are living in an ideological climate where it seems increasingly easy to argue that we can, and we should, control biology, through claiming that individuals have a responsibility for their own genetic outcomes (despite the reality that 'the new genetics can diagnose but not treat'.) On the one side, we look backwards to the 'constraints' of our genetic heritage as the determinants of our fate; on the other, we look forwards to the 'freedoms' of infinitely malleable future, once we put our faith in the hands of the new Genetic Gods. These new gods are not, in fact, genes; but rather the molecular biologists themselves who spin stories about their ability to create genetic blueprints for 'normality'. This is the vision which is currently preferred to any which might argue for political change and collective endeavour to prevent the physical and social hazards of life being increasingly unevenly distributed \u2013 not according to genetic laws, but rather in line with socio-economic principles.\n\nA large part of the appeal of the new genetics is thus political. But it links up with another image of science especially influential in psychology. I have called this the psychologists' 'fear of the mind'. Psychologists have always oscillated between a focus on biology (including recent accounts of cerebral coding) and a focus on the environment \u2013 because human mental life is just too complex, too hard to grasp, too threatening, and the narratives of human experience too messy for the formulation of simple, clean theory. The life of the mind is quite unlike the predictable operation of a computer, however intricate its hardware or software. In the following chapters I turn to the complexities of psychic life and the engagement of feminist theory and politics with those who attempt its elucidation.\n\n# 4  \nPsychic Life and its Scandals\n\n> We spend our time inventing true accounts for ourselves, content like professional historians to change our versions of events under the pressure of the present... Or we modify the angle of vision while affecting to forget that it alone determines the field which the eye will encompass, hiding what is left that another eye will settle on.\n> \n> J.-B. Pontalis, _Love of Beginnings_\n\nWhenever I tell stories of my own childhood, my most loving partner has an incorrigible tendency to laugh. 'You always look so happy in childhood photographs', he points out, correctly; as if the child striving to look winsome is always a happy one. Complicit with his response, I usually tell tales of my early life more to entertain than to elicit sympathy. They all sound so bizarre and extreme in their elaboration of interminable family conflicts, indigenous betrayals, maternal absence and paternal indifference, that it is hard not to laugh. And it is important to add that I am recalling an affluent and stable, non-abusive, two-parent family here: a not atypically selfish, casually adulterous father; his often jealous and resentful live-in mistress and housekeeper; and my overemployed, not atypically embittered, professional working mother. The three children starting out from that household would all eventually be able to find meaningful work and loving relationships, although we would never be free from the anxieties and insecurities such unhappy families implant. But then the experiences we had were never so cruel, so very much at odds with the conventions of those around us, that we lacked the words to voice them.\n\n## **_Tricks of Memory_**\n\nHow should we scrutinize our reconstructions of childhood pleasures and pains? How, in the present, do we assess the significance \u2013 let alone the accuracy \u2013 of the images out of which we piece together our personal histories, as we sift through and reshuffle fragments of the past? This is the issue at the heart of the current crisis over memory, especially in relation to child abuse and therapeutic interventions. But it fans out to embrace a panoply of problems in people's desire to understand \u2013 and in these times, an even stronger desire _not_ to understand \u2013 the always complicated background to people's suffering, and their habitual, often harmful, ways. The uncertainties of memory have been used to excoriate already familiar objects of ridicule, especially Freud, although, day-to-day, any therapist from the ever-expanding empire of healers of the self will do. The new 'memoro-politics' (as they have been called) have also encouraged academic psychologists to step outside their characteristic computational rituals to pronounce on matters less trivial than the banal correlations routinely handed out to the media. Indeed, they have even been responsible for certain new alliances between experimental psychology and psychoanalysis, however provisional, where communication remains limited. At the heart of all this commotion over memory lies the continuing fallout from charges detonated when feminists in the 1970s began to perceive and denounce the hitherto concealed or repudiated prevalence of child sexual abuse. It was from that time that women were heard and were helped as they spoke of their own recollections of abuse \u2013 most often, incestuous abuse inside the family, with fathers or step-fathers as the perpetrators.\n\nMindful of the social and political dynamics at play, and especially the backlash against feminist achievements, I want to ponder here the difficulties surrounding any exploration of the psychological arena in the understanding of human affairs. Psychic life is always intrinsically problematic, as that unique and autonomous domain only knowable, even to its subjects, via the narratives and discourses available to make sense of it. Subjective concerns are not supposed to inform the theoretical work or conceptual innovation of scientists, who like to believe that they can, indeed that they must, remain quite detached from the objects which they study and the methods they employ. But for those scientific observers who are also psychologists, this is a rather extraordinary constraint. 'Psychologists', as one of its recently acclaimed cognitive heroes likes to boast, 'don't study their own minds; they study someone else's'. Yet, it is self-knowledge and the understanding of individual human actions which is supposedly the object of their disciplinary pursuit. Autobiographical material might therefore be thought to provide one of the richest sources we have to understand the strange complexities of the interaction between 'internal' and 'external' realities. Indeed, rather than requiring elimination as quintessentially unreliable or biased, autobiographical reflection could prove all the richer precisely for being, at any one time, so easily called into question, and in constant need of rethinking.\n\nLike all aspects of experience, memory depends upon wider cultural understandings, which themselves shift over time: 'Life is lived forward but it is understood backwards', to use Kierkegaard's much cited aphorism. Our own most cherished conceits, stubborn evasions or persistent illusions are all fashioned by a growing stock of cultural narratives, as we try to make sense of the past and its connections to our lives in the present. This, it seems to me, is what we need to study, not seek to evade. And this is why I see the appraisal of personal memories as one of the most important guides for thinking about psychological enquiry, in much the same way that such reflection inspired the most persistingly influential writer on human existence in modern times, Sigmund Freud. It was Freud's perpetual self-exploration which, for better or for worse, provided the framework for those in search of deeper psychological understanding of themselves over the subsequent hundred years; at least, those who could most freely choose and afford what they felt they needed, when seeking relief from intense personal miseries.\n\nMeanwhile, the most culturally ubiquitous narrative available for explaining all manner of social problems and individual failures and misfortunes today focuses upon the fate of the helpless and vulnerable child within the bad or abusive family. From popular television to the ceaseless production of self-help manuals in the Western world, stories of child abuse within dysfunctional families introduce one of the central moral tales of our time. However, fundamental as this story has become, it is surrounded by professional controversy and dissent, with some leading psychologists putting their authority behind its complete irrelevance: 'There is evidence that neither sexual abuse nor other forms of childhood trauma damage the adult personality', the late and highly respected cognitive psychologist Stuart Sutherland used to proclaim, adding that any talk of 'repressed' or 'recovered' memories of abuse 'defies everything that is known about memory and trauma'. Younger psychologists, with much the same message, follow in the footsteps of mentors like Eysenck and Sutherland, finding brief media prominence with publications dismissing the significance of parental influence and early family experience \u2013 as exemplified in the fanfare around Judith Harris's _The Nature Assumption_ (1998).\n\nIn contrast, the British Psychological Society, consulting its clinical members, has published a special report endorsing the existence and the significance of 'repressed' memories of childhood abuse: 'There are high levels of belief in the essential accuracy of recovered memories of child sexual abuse among qualified psychologists' [ _sic_ ]. __ (This is presumably their ungrammatical way of affirming the beliefs of psychologists, rather than public belief in psychologists' personal histories of abuse.) The American Psychiatric Association has gone further, supporting a notion of the repression of whole psychological formations, or of amnesia associated with distinct 'personalities', resulting from childhood abuse; this was ratified as Multiple Personality Disorder in the _Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders_ (DSM-III) in 1980 and later reclassified as Dissociative Identity Disorder in DSM-IV.\n\nThese battles over the significance of childhood trauma and the nature of memory are not only staged in the academy, the clinic and the media, they are also increasingly fought out in law courts and legislative bodies around the world. In the courts and in their aftermath, further difficulties arise as the framework of legal discourses is mapped onto the more precarious and provisional translations of the past into the present in clinical discourses.\n\n## **_Dilemmas of Science_**\n\nThe contemporary focus on the child is itself, to some extent, a testimony to the enormous significance of Freud for the culture and imagination of twentieth-century Western thought. It was Freud, of course, who most strongly insisted that as adults we are never as free as we would like to think from the often destructive residues of infantile fears, anxieties and longings. But this also means that we are never as rational as we would like to think, and that the line between impartial observation and the driving force of fantasy can be a blurred and broken one. Just as childhood intrudes into adulthood, fantasy fuels not only personal perceptions, but also shared constructions of reality. 'You only start seeing', as Jacqueline Rose condenses Freud's most basic message, 'when you know that your vision is troubled, fallible, off-key'. However, psychoanalysis has remained at the margins of academic debates in psychology, and for some time now there has been a renewed assault by a formidable range of philosophers, historians and critics on Freud's 'fraudulence' and 'fakery', with his work destined, in Frederick Crews's recent emotive indictments, for 'history's ashcan'. Interestingly, it is the continuing resonance of much of Freud's conceptual framework with the less reductive aspects of familiar cultural wisdom, itself derided in the cognitive sciences as 'folk psychology', which encourages its repeated repudiation within the academy, especially within psychology and psychiatry. Yet it is this congruence with the paradoxes of lived experience which motivated its rehabilitation within significant strands of feminist scholarship, especially in the humanities.\n\nMuch of the allure of psychoanalysis (its distinctiveness for its more sophisticated sympathizers) is its embrace of contradiction and conflict as central to human existence. Much of the scandal of psychoanalysis (for its closest and harshest critics, in mainstream psychology) is this same ingredient of contradiction and paradox. This puzzling complexity mocks psychologist's supposedly dispassionate construction of rational and orderly mechanistic models of mental functioning and their insistence upon computational methods for studying its outcomes. As Jerome Bruner, among others, frequently laments, no sooner had psychologists in the late 1950s begun to reverse their hitherto impoverished behaviouristic elimination of reference to mental states and cultural contexts than their new cognitive frameworks themselves began to rigidify. Having previously confined themselves to the diligent quantification of patterns of physical stimulus and response, the new 'cognitive revolution' briefly allowed academic psychologists the freedom to conceptualize the life of the mind, only to encourage them, all too soon, to bypass once again the culturally fluid and uniquely flexible human creative capacities for 'meaning-making'. Instead, cognitive psychology substituted new mechanistic models of universality in a language full of highly technical, strictly computational metaphors of 'information-processing'. The recent addition of Darwinian perspectives further encourages the construction of grandiose conceptual frameworks for generating context-free, speculative totalizations.\n\nMeanwhile, the fact that contradiction and paradox is something psychoanalytic reflection shares with much of what we would call 'common sense' fuels the fire of its detractors, even as it encourages its supporters. As Freud noted in 1909, when writing his preface to the second edition of the single most influential psychoanalytic text, _The Interpretation of Dreams,_ his work would be 'doomed to be sunk into complete silence' were its impact to depend upon 'the attitude adopted by reviewers in the scientific periodicals' (whether of his own day, or ours) rather than its usefulness to its 'educated and curious-minded readers'. Interestingly, this book, with its 'incalculable influence on modern consciousness', as Laura Marcus notes, sold only 351 copies in its first six years. The rejection of its scientific credentials was in line with the positivistic principle that psychology could only assert its claims as a science once it could distance itself definitively from the open-ended ambivalences to be found in 'folk psychology' or common sense: the inconsistencies and contradictions in people's perceptions or beliefs must be eliminated from the conceptual language of science. Instead, psychologists must present simple, certain truths which can be exactly measured and quantified.\n\nIt has often been noted that it is the experimental methods themselves which have generally dictated research in psychology. Yet, as Michael Billig and other more sceptical social psychologists have illustrated in their own fields of enquiry, 'far from anything being made more orderly', social psychologists have produced 'a sprawling mass of conflicting principles and research findings'. From his own discipline (anthropology), Clifford Geertz had long since analysed the scientific dilemma facing psychologists. With seductive self-restraint, he pointed out time and again that any attempt to understand the social lives of human beings \u2013 who live in history and have the capacity for language, intentions, visions, memories, hopes and passions \u2013 is unlikely to succeed if presented in terms of 'objectivized variables set in systems of closed causality'. Geertz is one of the main figures pioneering recent interpretative anthropology. His inspiring memoir, covering four decades of research, elegantly illustrates how the quest for what we really want to know about people \u2013 why they do what they do \u2013 tends to escape the dexterities of method undertaken in the pursuit of precise objective formulations. The attempt to predict and control human behaviour is not one which orientates us in the direction of understanding it.\n\nCertainly, on that heated topic of the moment, the nature and significance of memories of child abuse, we find that academic psychology has played almost no role in its contemporary prominence. Freud, however, has been held _responsible_ for it; responsible, moreover, as prime mover of its historical denial _and_ as the undeniable author of presumptions of its contemporary prevalence. Whether seen as shrouding it in secrecy, or flaunted as fashionable fiction, Freud is to blame both for the cultural disavowal _and_ the professional ratification of child sexual abuse. How could this have happened?\n\n## **_Troubled Vision_**\n\nLet us look at a vignette from life in a public school in Britain in the 1950s. 'Do you think I'm a pederast?', Paul Foot recalls being asked by Anthony Chenevix-Trench, his eminent housemaster at Shrewsbury public school. Chenevix-Trench, who quickly rose to claim the job of headmaster at Britain's most prestigious school, Eton, was relaxing after another of his regular beatings of adolescent boys, with leather strap on bare bottoms. Few of his younger pupils could hope to escape such humiliating chastisement for mistakes in their Greek translation, punishments joyfully delivered behind closed doors. Perhaps Chenevix-Trench was genuinely unsure of the nature of his 'perversion', exhibiting that strange but far from unfamiliar state of mind which Freud was to make central to his account of psychic life, when we both know and do not know something about ourselves, or others, at the same time: 'Do you think I'm a pederast?' 'Yes, indeed', a chorus of voices would immediately respond to the self-generated suspicions of any such exalted sadist today.\n\nIt is possible that Chenevix-Trench was genuinely unsure whether his behaviour was abusive. He apparently gained sexual pleasure not from acts of sodomy, but from causing pain on the exposed flesh of his younger pupils \u2013 and, of course, maybe it did belt into them a firmer knowledge of ancient Greek, in keeping with the proclaimed goal of the exercise. As Adam Mars-Jones comments, it is harder to be quite so 'unknowing' nowadays: 'The moment it becomes possible to consider such behaviour other than in terms of manly spontaneity, then it's all up with the innocent beating, weeping and kissing'. Mars-Jones was reviewing Christopher Hibbert's book _No Ordinary Place: Radley College and the Public School,_ where he explains that in the 1950s: 'Weeping and kissing a boy after beating him would not then have been considered so sexually dubious as it would today'. There's progress, most would agree. But, even today, some are not as discerning as others, and seem to remain no less confused than Chenevix-Trench himself, although we are supposedly far wiser about the nature and problem of paedophilia and child abuse. Indeed, Chenevix-Trench (to Foot's deep disgust) remains a hero; a hero, it is important to note, not for libertarian sex radicals proud to be sado-masochist, but rather for the self-righteous moralists of our time who, like his biographer Mark Peel, want to celebrate that particular teacher's battle against 'drift and complacency', and still cherish the use of the cane.\n\nWithout any doubt, it is Freud's descriptive categories \u2013 in these times as much the common sense of cultural critics like Mars-Jones as it is baloney to disciplinarians like Mark Peel (and many academic psychologists) \u2013 which remove the 'innocence' from these 'manly' beatings and explain their perpetrators' defensive connection to their own behaviour. Freudian reflections point us towards the conscious disavowal of what one unconsciously knows, and the widespread unconscious denial, displacement, and a projection of a sense of one's own wrong-doing into the punitive punishment of others, especially when it allows some disguised expression of repressed sexual pleasure. It is the language of psychoanalysis which resonates with and helps inform what cultural wisdom we have about what is more popularly called the 'blindness of the seeing eye'. Freud communicated a way of thinking about how we are able to deceive ourselves and others via a principled and vigorous passion far in excess of any conscious attempt to mislead. Indeed, to be 'knowing', in Western culture, usually means to have picked up something of Freud's legacy.\n\n## **_Feminist Denunciations_**\n\nNevertheless, it is important to be clear that it was not psychoanalysts but feminists who brought to prominence, and demanded action against, the hidden and horrific reality of child sexual abuse in the 1970s. Contrary to the disinterested status ascribed to and claimed by scientists and (somewhat less successfully) clinicians, it took a political movement to refocus scholarly attention on the significance of narratives of child sexual abuse. Moreover, it was Freud whom many feminists blamed for keeping the prevalence of child sexual abuse buried for so long. The volatile and contradictory relations between feminism and psychoanalysis provide both a telling instance of the ambivalence of Freud's legacy, and the selective uses made of his conceptual framework. As explored further in chapter 6, it was used, most often, to underwrite existing gender hierarchies and normative regimes; only sometimes, more subversively, to suggest their inevitable fissures and fragility. Accordingly, the cultural impact of the feminist attack on psychoanalysis, in this instance for falsifying women's experience of sexual abuse, has been shadowed by a somewhat more elite feminist emphasis on the necessity of returning to Freud.\n\nSome feminists, especially in the USA, such as Florence Rush in the 1970s, accused Freud of making the sexual abuse of children 'the best-kept secret in the world'. Rush's essay was part of a profound and abiding cultural consciousness-raising around the criminal extent of child sexual abuse, which helped inspire feminist campaigning against the appalling neglect of such practices. (This was several years before the commercial media and the psychoanalytic profession itself began to suggest the extent and tragic effects of child sexual abuse, after publications by Alice Miller and Jeffrey Masson the following decade.) The feminist assault on Freud built upon Susan Brownmiller's historical survey of rape, _Against our Will_ (1976), in which she had claimed that only with the advent of Freud had 'the male ideology of rape began to rely on the tenet that rape was something women desired'. Meanwhile, in stark contrast with such denunciations, feminists such as Juliet Mitchell in Britain were appropriating Freud as essential for any understanding of the nature and psychology of sexual difference.\n\nWhat was so significant about the beginnings of psychoanalysis in the 1890s was that Freud was listening very carefully, and uniquely sympathetically, to the stories of his predominantly female patients. He saw them as maligned by contemporary medical science (as in the views held by his mentor, Jean-Martin Charcot), which attributed their symptoms to hereditary degeneracy. Freud's early patients suffered from a diversity of painful physical and emotional symptoms which, insofar as they were seen as having no organic basis, were attributed to the psychical disorder of 'hysteria'. The tales these women told when encouraged to elaborate upon whatever thoughts came to mind, often involving disturbingly precocious sexual encounters with adults (and especially fathers), led Freud to speculate upon, and search for evidence of, a 'seduction' theory of neurosis: the idea that sexual assaults in childhood provided the original trauma paving the way for neurosis in later life.\n\nHowever, as Freud developed the foundations of psychoanalytic theory his paradigm case was, primarily, his own self-analysis \u2013 as in _The Interpretation of Dreams._ This led him to the further elaboration of unconscious mechanisms, the assumption of autonomous infantile sexuality and, in particular, the traumatic acquisition of sexual difference as mediated through the intense family drama embodying the Oedipus complex: the earliest desires, repressions and identifications connected with the first objects of love, fear and frustration \u2013 the parents. Again, it is important to notice that much of the strength and influence of psychoanalytic insight into mental suffering comes from the fact that Freud relied upon (and insisted his followers use) _self_ -understanding as the route to comprehending the symptoms of others, in radical contrast with the psychiatric tradition which has always emphasized the alien or abnormal nature of mental illness. Nevertheless, it should come as no surprise that Freud's account of psychosexual development and sexual difference both reflects and reproduces the pervasive cultural phallocentrism of Western thought, encoding men's intense anxieties over the acquisition of 'masculinity'. Despite seeing women as the victims of this culture, and despite his deep sympathy for, and at times identification with, the hysterical symptoms of his female patients, Freud remained largely uncritical of the various male- dominated institutions which fuel what he described as boys' fear and repudiation of 'femininity' ('castration anxiety'), and girls' envy of the attributes of 'masculinity' ('penis envy'), in the classic Oedipal narrative.\n\nFreud's theories thus reflect the psychological effects of the patriarchal, androcentric fantasies and logic of his time which, though now fiercely contested, still connect with the hierarchical structures and symbolisms of our own. All the same, if we are seeking individual targets to blame for the historical neglect of child sexual abuse, Freud is far from the most rational of choices. This is not only because his thoughts help us interpret the complex and muddied nature of psychic life, with its unpredictable, usually disavowed relation to interpersonal and cultural abuses of all sorts, but because most of the charges against him, in this instance, are largely inaccurate or confused.\n\n## **_Fantasy versus Trauma_**\n\nFreud's female patients did not come to him complaining of having been sexually abused, only to have Freud deny their abusive memories. Rather, it was Freud himself who tried to convince his patients of the truth of his own 'seduction theory', and they who, he claimed, repudiated it. Although patients provided highly charged accounts of incestuous experience in childhood, Freud wrote that they would emphasize that 'they have no feeling of remembering the scenes'. Ironically, in terms of the later insistence by his feminist critics that Freud deliberately chose to ignore or distort his patients' knowledge that they had been sexually abused, it was these patients' withholding of _their_ belief in _his_ suspicions of actual seduction which he at first took as their confirmation: 'This latter piece of behaviour seems to provide conclusive proof. Why should patients assure me so emphatically of their unbelief, if what they want to discredit is something which \u2013 from whatever motive \u2013 they themselves have invented?'\n\nMoreover, contrary to the accusations made by Rush or Masson's _Assault on Truth: Freud's Suppression of the Seduction Theory,_ Freud did not suddenly abandon his 'seduction theory' in 1897 \u2013 despite expressing his private doubts to his friend the Berlin physician Wilhelm Fliess in that year, and despite autobiographical reconstructions many years later. Nor was Freud's move towards the assertion of autonomous childhood sexuality and fantasy life (as Masson suggests, although Rush does not) merely a cowardly attempt to gain professional approval from medical colleagues. His next theoretical move, Freud himself seemed to believe, was no less unpopular: 'Few of the findings of psycho-analysis have met with such universal contradiction or have aroused such an outburst of indignation as the assertion that the sexual function starts at the beginning of life and reveals its presence by important signs in childhood'. In subsequent work Freud continued to refer in different ways to the harmful effects of 'seduction', writing as late as 1931, in his essay 'Female Sexuality': 'Actual seduction, too, is common enough.... Where [it] intervenes it invariably disturbs the natural course of the developmental processses, and it often leaves behind extensive and lasting consequences'. Although, it is true, as well as suspicious, that he no longer pointed to fathers as the most likely initiators, but to 'other children' or 'someone in charge of the child'.\n\nSurveying all of Freud's writings when researching their dictionary of psychoanalysis, Laplanche and Pontalis argue that even with his evolving framework of autonomous infantile sexuality, Freud 'continued to assert the existence, prevalence and pathogenic force of scenes of seduction actually experienced by children'. As many others have noticed, years after he came to believe that neurotic symptoms and memories of early sexual experience stemmed from psychical reality and unconscious fantasy, rather than from some single (or repeated) traumatic event, Freud also accepted his patients' accounts of actual seduction and abuse alongside his own emphasis on the significance of sexual _desires_ in childhood. Nevertheless, one would have to agree that his interest was always in the way external events become invested with fantasy, rather than in the traumatic events themselves, seeing the former as the crucial issue for therapy: 'up to the present we have not succeeded in pointing to any difference in the consequences, whether phantasy or reality has had the greater share in these events', Freud wrote in 1916, referring to stories of childhood seduction involving the father.\n\nHowever, Freud's own conceptual ambivalence and uncertainties, as he felt he must _choose_ between autonomous psychic life and external trauma, has not prevented many other analysts from suggesting that there is no essential contradiction between attributing adult symptoms to a destructive mix of the two \u2013 'real' and fantasized events. Indeed, in distinctively psychoanalytic mode, Laplanche has argued compellingly that _all_ material experiences are immediately invested with, and continuously worked and reworked through, psychic fantasy. Ironically, it is only those, like Masson, who broadcast Freud's 'betrayal' of women and children, who today feel that they still must _choose_ between psychic life and trauma: reducing the complex and harmful effects of childhood cruelty and abuse simply to truths in need of validation, or their enforced suppression. Writing of Freud's analysis of the bizarre, paranoid fantasies of Daniel Paul Schreber, a man who had been physically abused by his rigidly disciplinarian father, and whose chief delusion during his psychotic breakdown was that he had to change, and was indeed changing, into a woman as a way of redeeming the world, Masson remonstrates: 'he analysed Schreber's _so-called delusions_ on the basis of unconscious homosexual longings for his father, instead of on that father's sadistic physical manipulations of the young boy, and so on'. So-called delusions! Masson seems seriously to believe that a father's physical sadism would have no psychic consequences, other than to create a need for the abused person to be allowed to tell his or her story, and have it believed. Thus he writes:\n\n> I cannot think of a better therapy than exposing the inadequacies of therapy itself. Politicizing oneself by joining with other survivors in political actions is an excellent antidote to the powerlessness that psychiatry induces in its subjects. Becoming active in the struggle against psychiatry (and other forms of injustice) even in one's own mind, is a good alternative to the helplessness that psychiatry encourages in patients. Writing up one's own story, even if only for the instruction of other friends, especially if nothing is omitted, is to offer people the other side of the official story.\n\nIn fact, writing up his own story and thereby displaying his tragic delusional system was precisely what Schreber _was_ doing in his _Memoirs of my Nervous Illness,_ about which Freud was writing. Even if a 'survivors' group had somehow, anachronistically, presented itself to the very eminent Judge Schreber (who had been a highly respected lawyer and judge before his breakdown), one suspects that he could have made little use of it.\n\nA century later, many psychotherapists are working hard with the memories and fantasies of patients who have been seriously abused, some of them tracing the origins of diverse mental disorders directly to traumas of early childhood, others seeing a more nuanced interaction. The former, like Judith Herman, are more likely to be committed to the restorative power of 'telling the truth' about the past, if patients are to be helped to gain a 'newly liberated capacity for imagination and fantasy'. The latter are more concerned with simply listening to and helping to liberate patients from their destructive entrapment in narratives about the past, and less concerned with uncovering the 'facts' of the case. Like Lacan, they may even suggest that when the patient recalls events from the past in analysis: '[T]he stress is always placed more on the side of reconstruction than on that of reliving, in the sense we have grown used to calling _affective._... What is essential is reconstruction.... I would say \u2013 when all is said and done, it is less a matter of remembering than of rewriting history. However, no clinician, ever, is going to accuse his or her patients of telling untruths or lies about the past.\n\nSo why the fixation on the omissions of Freud? Part of the reason is simply the absorption of banalized Freudian notions into the superficial mix of the Western vernacular \u2013 we can all cite its 'scripture' to our own purposes. Indeed, with its highlighting of familial combat, infantile sexuality and congenital aggression, there is little to match it. Freud's theories are constantly taken up and adapted to the milieu in which they are used. With or without Freud, however, one thing which any society never wants to acknowledge is the regular occurrence of institutionalized forms of violence and abuse by the powerful against the vulnerable, most especially when it involves the sexual abuse of men's ideologically sanctioned power over women and children inside the family. It is certain that Freud's account of autonomous infantile sexuality helped some people, always more than ready to ignore or to rationalize away the horror of child sexual abuse, both within and without psychoanalytic institutions. I do not doubt earlier feminist accounts of the many supposedly therapeutic institutions and practitioners who have downplayed or dismissed the effects of child sexual abuse, perhaps in the name of Freud. This remains probable, despite surveys which suggest that Anna Freud, Donald Winnicott and other leading psychoanalysts of the mid-twentieth century were among the few observers who _did_ write about such abuse and its destructive effects. At the time, Anna Freud and those calling themselves the 'Freudians', most prominently Edward Glover, were always careful to distinguish between reality-oriented and primarily fantasy-originating images of objects. This was in contrast with Melanie Klein, and the 'Kleinians', who saw the influence of instinctually driven 'phantasy' in all perceptions of reality \u2013 leading some to accuse them of ignoring the influence of 'real events' in their patients' lives. Indeed, it was empirical researchers of the time, such as Simon Weinberg in his _Incest Behavior_ (1955), who, though _rejecting_ Freud as unscientific, were more likely to insist that child sexual abuse was an extremely rare occurrence.\n\nUndoubtedly, it took the sea-change of resurgent feminism for therapists in general, and the population at large, to hear and begin to act upon accounts of children's sexual exploitation and abuse \u2013 mostly through adult memories of childhood sexual trauma. Probably, it took this change for women to find the words, and have the confidence, to _tell_ such stories. (Although significant numbers of boys are sexually abused, the majority of 'victims' or 'survivors' that we hear about are still women, while their abusers, overwhelmingly, are men.) Nonetheless, it is now often through the tools of psychoanalytic therapy that the most moving accounts of child sexual abuse are recalled or 'recovered', as in Sylvia Fraser's _In my Father's House._\n\nContrary to an earlier feminist approach in the 1970s, which tended to dismiss the Freudian belief in the need to work with unconscious material, feminist therapists now trying to heal the sexually abused all emphasize the inaccessibility of memories of early trauma. Speaking from over two decades of work with sexually abused children at the Tavistock Clinic in London, Judith Trowell emphasizes the regular distortion of experience which occurs following such abuse. She understands this as a resort to unconscious defence mechanisms of disavowal, displacement and, in particular, dissociation, leading to the overall 'dampening down' of fantasy in sexually abused children (or adults who were once sexually abused), as they attempt to rid themselves of unbearable memories: 'they are lifeless, flat, avoidant, and have psychogenic amnesia'. Similarly, Valerie Sinason, perhaps the best-known British psychoanalytic psychotherapist currently working on child sexual abuse, writes of the confusing mixture of fantasy and reality found in survivors of abuse: 'Tragically, then, it is precisely those individuals who have been traumatized most who are the most likely to include distortions in their narrative.'\n\nRemarkably, in recent rotations of the conflictual relations between psychoanalysis and culture, when Freudians are not being accused of ignoring child abuse, they are being accused of inventing or exaggerating it. We are now witnessing a new backlash against Freud, fronted by Frederick Crews (ironically in the same media outlet as Masson's denunciation a decade earlier), to argue the reverse of the Rush\/Masson thesis: 'It was Freud himself who taught both his followers and his adversaries to take the seduction narratives seriously as productions of his patients'. Again just like Rush and Masson, but in the opposite direction, Crews continues to excoriate Freud for the fact that 'a number of parents and child-care providers are serving long prison terms... on the basis of therapeutically induced \"memories\" of child sexual abuse that never in fact occurred.... [T]he tradition of Freudian theory and practice unmistakably lies behind their tragic deception of both patients and jurors'. Unmistakably? You may rest assured! Many of his compatriots are keen to amplify Crews's latest onslaught: 'Freud did to the unconscious mind with his theories what New York does to the ocean with its garbage'. Freud had described children's primitive anxieties about adult sexuality (referring to the 'primal scene' of parental genital penetration) as intrinsically disturbing; no less, it seems, adults in our culture still regard his theories of childhood sexuality as intrinsically disturbing. As the eminent New York analyst Kurt Eissler wearily noted shortly before his death in 1999: 'No one is interested if you write positively about Freud, but as soon as you write negatively everybody applauds'.\n\nPerhaps we should treat this continued fear and loathing of Freud as merely comic, with its attempt to eradicate his influence by whatever contradictory means provide suitably sensationalized stories; except that we are usually dealing with tragic matters. Organizations to prevent 'Crimes against Children' (with their 'Believe the Child' bumper stickers) are now confronted by the 'False Memory Syndrome Foundation' (claiming to have 10,000 families on their lists of those who have been victims of false allegations of abuse). As the two currently take their battles into the courtrooms of the USA, 'memoro-politics' is becoming one of the most passionate topics of the day. Add to this conflagration the newly emerging third category of 'retractors', who come to denounce their families through therapy, only later to abjure the charges, and ever more people are being forced to start thinking very seriously indeed about the difficult topic of memory.\n\n## **_Models of Memory_**\n\nWhat is memory? There have been three main sources of knowledge of human memory in over a century of scientific reflection: behavioural research on memory (from Hermann Ebbinghaus's study, tellingly, of the recall of nonsense syllables in the 1880s, to the computer modelling of memory processes in the cognitive sciences today); neurological studies of brain localization; and psychodynamic approaches (which owe something to Freud). Of these, however, it is only the psychodynamic approach which has influenced people's own stories about themselves. 'Freud transformed Western consciousness more surely than the atomic bomb or the welfare state', Ian Hacking concludes from his exhaustive overview of the cultural impact of shifting notions of consciousness from the turn of the century. This is because the concepts of memory derived from the first two traditions, on their own, tell us next to nothing about the specific contexts or often troubling contents of human practices of remembering. Memories present themselves through narratives that make sense in the present, modifying individual events and assigning them different meanings at different times.\n\nPsychologists, in the footsteps of Ebbinghaus, set out to study what they saw as 'pure' memory in the laboratory, memorizing sequences (like nonsense syllables) in order to avoid 'contamination' from factors like meaning, affect, significance and context \u2013 the very essence of memory. The alternative tradition of Frederick Bartlett, which had analysed memory as a social practice in the 1930s, was soon sidelined, provoking the anthropologist Mary Douglas to observe: 'psychologists are institutionally incapable of remembering that humans are social beings. As soon as they know it, they forget it'. In tune with Douglas, the neuroscientists Gerald Edelman and Steven Rose have recently criticized the reductionist tendencies in their own discipline, which have sought to pin down the locations and molecular structure of memory processes in the brain. They have each illustrated that the recent findings of neuroscience rule out any mechanistic model of the brain: 'Given the diversity of the repertoires of the brain, it is extremely unlikely', Edelman writes, 'that any two selective events, even apparently identical ones, would have identical consequences... The mixture of events is individual and, in large measure, unpredictable'. Human memory, they both agree, has an intrinsically collective and social dimension, requiring models of the brain which introduce creativity and indeterminacy: 'whilst for each of us the experience of collective memory is an individual biological and psychological one', Rose concludes, 'its existence serves purposes which transcend the individual, welding together human societies by imposing shared understandings, interpretations, ideologies'.\n\nNevertheless, with the public clamour child sexual abuse has generated, there has been something of a rapprochement between the formerly conflicting traditions of academic psychology and psychoanalysis. The former favours mechanistic models of memory, from computers to filing cabinets; the latter, narrative construction and reconstruction, in highly charged emotional contexts. Parallels between experimental research on memory and contemporary psychoanalytic perspectives are easy to make, at least superficially. Although there are disagreements between the memory researchers, they have repeatedly shown that memory is unreliable. In their overview of research, published in 1997, Daniel Schacter and his co-workers conclude: 'An enormous body of results from cognitive psychology and cognitive neuroscience demonstrate that memories are vulnerable to distortion, and that confidence and vividness do not always go hand in hand with accuracy'. For example, in her well-known experiments Elizabeth Loftus and her co-workers found that it was relatively easy to use suggestion to induce 'false memory', or inaccurate recall, in both children and adults. In one study, subjects were made to believe that they had been lost in a shopping mall when young; in other studies researchers have been able to establish that the contents of reports about the same memory differ from one occasion to the next. Cognitive research also suggests that experiences which are not talked about are more likely to be forgotten. In the technical language of cognitive psychology: 'memory construction is mediated by control processes which vary from one recall to the next and use different cues to probe autobiographical knowledge on different occasions of retrieval'.\n\nLoftus has used her results to argue that adults do not forget traumatic events, like sexual abuse, although they may have periods when they do not recall them. But other cognitive researchers, like Lenore Terr, have suggested that memories for trauma may be 'encoded' in ways that make it harder to recall, although researchers are unclear about the mechanisms involved. Psychologists agree that nothing can be recalled accurately before the first birthday, little before the second, and that poor memory from before the fourth birthday is normal. However, despite the lack of verbal recall from early childhood, seen as largely due to the absence of language, some researchers, like Terr, have reported that children have ways of re-enacting their traumatic experiences. Overall, it is hard to fault the general conclusion from academic psychology that: 'Some recovered memories may be essentially accurate, some may be largely inaccurate but nonetheless partially based on experiences of the individuals other than actual abuse (for example, imagined abuse, or situations involving emotional abuse), and still others wholly inaccurate'.\n\nNevertheless, there are critical differences between the two traditions. Psychological research is interested in cognitive frameworks which are decontextualized and universal, not specific and embodied: exploring memory for discrete events, usually in unfamiliar settings, over relatively short periods of time. The pyschoanalytic notions of trauma and deferred action do not reduce to that of impressions which cannot be meaningfully encoded. As Erica Burman comments: 'Concern with providing a psychological explanation for the possibility of unconscious memories is not the same as indicating anything of the motives for its repression or the structure of the psychic apparatus involved'. Neither cognitive science, nor the rapidly advancing research in neuropsychology, have anything to say about individual life histories or the particularities of language and shared cultural narratives through which they are constructed. Indeed, if psychoanalysts have hoped to gain greater scientific respectability for their theories by aligning themselves with cognitive frameworks and neuropsychology, at least some of the latter have seen the need to engage with psychotherapeutic reflection to connect with any issues of significance in the public domain. Commenting on the limitations of their cognitive discourses, Martin Conway writes: 'although they describe or foreshadow cognitive mechanisms of memory they imply little about when or why such mechanisms are used', adding, 'psychodynamically meaningful situations can rarely (if ever) be created and controlled in a way acceptable to an experimenter'.\n\nEven the manner in which the recovered memory debate is conceptualized remains distinct in the competing perspectives. For academic psychology, prediction remains the fundamental problem. People must be clustered into types of individuals, or events into types of events, in order to make them statistically useful, for example, 'to predict who would repress and who would not'. For the psychoanalyst, prediction is never the issue. The problem resides in the attempt to understand, not to predict, human behaviour through persistent attention to the open-ended stories of a lifetime of precariously maintained repressed material, attempting to make sense of desires which insert themselves into consciousness and manifest themselves in behaviour, only to be repressed, and yet resurface all over again. The issue here is thus not so much whether any event has been remembered or forgotten ('encoded', or not), but of trying to see the way in which we memorialize the past through fantasy or imagination and in the patterns of behaviour we repeat.\n\n## **_Memory as Narrative_**\n\nThe reigning idea in the cognitive sciences since the 1960s, of memory as a storage and retrieval system along the lines of a filing cabinet or computer, thus seriously distorts the nature of human memory. When we recall the past, however recent or distant, we recall events. An occurrence is recalled as an event only when it becomes part of a narrative, something which moves the narrative forward, as the philosopher Paul Ricoeur exhaustively analyses in his three-volume _Time and Narrative._ It is this theoretical understanding of memory, as a cultural construction in the present, which is also emphasized by Ian Hacking, who concludes his history of the scientific study of memory by underlining the inevitable indeterminacy in people's attempts to describe their own past. Memory is always revised, retroactively. The so-called 'flashback' experience often reported by abuse survivors, for example, is no more likely to be a 'true' picture of the past than any other memory. We weave stories about the past from what we call memories, Hacking amplifies: 'They must mesh with the rest of the world and with other people's stories, at least in externals, but their role is in the creation of a life, a character, a self'; he recognizes that Freud was well aware of this aspect of memory from 'quite early in his career'. However, no Freudian loyalist (being more attuned to Foucauldian scepticism), Hacking, in yet another twist to accepted censure, criticizes Freud for his _relentless truth-seeking;_ this may not always have been successful (which seems likely), nor in the best interests of his patients, who may have been better off without the 'truth' (which to many might seem less likely).\n\nFreudian accounts of memory, stressing meaning, affect and hidden significance, are clearly more in tune with notions of memory as narrative. However, recent accounts of memory also suggest something of the historical limitations of psychoanalysis: its failure to focus on the historical conjuncture framing its intricate accounts of psychic life and familial dynamics. The social operations of power (most obviously, in relation to those seeking psychotherapy, of gender hierarchy) have imposed their silences on the way we experience ourselves, as well as derelictions in the way we are heard, inside and outside psychotherapeutic encounters.\n\nToday, a feminist-informed culture is less able or willing to conceal or ignore what are often compelling psychological and physical signs of sexual abuse. Indeed, we are more attentive nowadays to signs of sexual abuse than to _other_ forms of physical and emotional neglect and abuse of children, which often raise little public concern or condemnation. Certainly, most clinicians are clearer about the realities and dangers of child sexual abuse, despite (at least in the more classically Freudian) an awareness of the potential for 'self-deception' in the reconstructions of memory. One of Britain's leading Freudian thinkers, Peter Fonagy, sums up the way in which psychoanalytic interpretation is shaped by (as well as helping to shape) the cultural wisdom of its day, as follows:\n\n> The psychoanalytic or psychotherapeutic situation is irretrievably contaminated by its social context, which affects both the patient's and the analyst's anticipation. Psychoanalytic discourse that implicitly or explicitly denies the formative role of the cultural context leaves important aspects of personal biography fragmented and mystifying.\n\nSo contemporary psychoanalytic theorizing, despite its numerous schools, has for some time now been growing cautious about its constructions of memory and the past, seeing the affective processes operating in clinical encounters as generating a mutual process of meaning construction. Fonagy himself has recently attempted to clarify the psychoanalytic understanding of 'memory', arguing that few psychoanalysts nowadays assume that what they are doing is 'uncovering the past', as it actually happened, rather than reconstructing personal memories with equal inputs from both analyst and patient. Contrary to popular notions of 'Freudian' memories, he asserts: 'Memories evolve within the analysis, obtaining new understandings of the patient's personal history; the analysand's very \"being\" changes, conferring new meanings on the same memories'. As is common in contemporary psychoanalytic thought, he draws upon the notion of 'deferred action', or _'Nachtr\u00e4glichkeit',_ to explain the way in which the past works upon the present in the therapeutic relationship. Freud used this term repeatedly to clarify the strange nature of psychic temporality, suggesting that earlier experiences and memory traces can be _revised_ subsequently in the light of new experiences or the attainment of a new stage of development: 'I am working on the assumption that our psychical mechanism has come into being by a process of stratification: the material present in the form of memory-traces being subject from time to time to a _re-arrangement_ in accordance with fresh circumstances \u2013 to a _re-transcription',_ he wrote to Fliess in 1896. A memory may thus become a trauma only well after the event, by a process of deferred action.\n\nFonagy makes use of the research of the French psychoanalysts Jean Laplanche and J.-B. Pontalis, who had earlier clarified Freud's notion of deferred action to explain: 'It is not lived experience in general which undergoes deferred revision but, specifically, whatever has been impossible to incorporate fully into a meaningful context. The traumatic event is the epitome of such unassimilated experience'. Laplanche has since expanded this notion of deferred action, which he calls 'afterwardness', to account for the workings of narrativization in general, as individuals attempt a reworking, or 'better translation', of the past in the present. It is thus the experience of analysis itself, as his collaborator Pontalis explains, which bears the idea (one which Hacking also elaborates) that memory is a type of fiction: 'any story, however truthful it aims to be, is a reconstruction from the vantage-point of the _present'_.\n\nMany other prominent psychoanalysts and writers, especially those from the object-relations tradition, such as Christopher Bollas or Stephen Mitchell, now argue along remarkably similar lines, seeing psychic histories as worked out in analysis through negotiated interactions between patient and analyst. Some, like Donald Spence, explicitly distinguish 'narrative truth' from 'historical truth', again arguing that particular symptoms can never be traced back to their 'actual origins' (historical truth) by means of interpretative insights (narrative truth). Meanwhile the Lacanian psychoanalyst, from a somewhat different metaphysics of language, comes to essentially the same conclusion, since the 'real' is always that which eludes us: 'Let us be clear', Lacan announced, 'that we do not engage in retracing a succession of stages of development but rather in grasping how positions which are already taken up are retrospectively reorganised'.\n\nHowever, this new psychoanalytic consensus on the relationship between the psychological past and the present as an insistent and persisting \u2013 yet precarious and provisional \u2013 process of social negotiation, is precisely what many critics angrily reject, as we have already seen argued by Jeffrey Masson. For them it is crucial to insist upon a clear and permanent division between the 'fiction' of 'mere fantasies', and the 'truth' of 'genuine memories'. No blurring between the imaginary and the real must be allowed. Thus Masson denounces Freud for dismissing women's accounts of actual abuse as 'the fantasies of hysterical women who invented stories and told lies'. This extraordinary version of Freud's interactions with his early women patients is now widely believed, a journalistic clich\u00e9, as well as one endorsed by many psychologists (at least those who do not, as Stuart Sutherland did, underwrite its exact antithesis): 'Freud has now been exposed as a fraud because he did not want to change his theory to fit the evidence when he found that child sexual abuse had occurred. Freud invented the myth of the sexual child, while in fact his experiences with his patients showed the opposite had happened. Instead of revealing that adults had abused children, he led people to believe that children desired abuse'.\n\n## **_Betrayal versus Abuse?_**\n\nHowever fiercely reiterated, it is not hard to point out the caricature and confusion in such crude renderings of Freud and psychoanalysis. Nevertheless, and despite the contradictory denunciations from Crews and his cohorts, it is clear that psychoanalytic arguments _could_ legitimately be used in the service of recent constructions of 'false memory syndrome': memories never simply reflect back external reality. The forms of 'recovery therapy' which have emerged at the close of the twentieth century, most prominently in the USA, have not been primarily psychoanalytic. (In fact, their origins have been traced to the alternative trauma theory of Freud's rival, Pierre Janet, in the 1890s.) But 'false memory' exponents are, often correctly, seen as part of the cultural backlash against the influence of feminist revelations of the prevalence and significance of sexual abuse, organizing to legitimate the very low conviction rates of its perpetrators or in support of men who have been convicted. This has meant that Peter Fonagy's temporary decision to lend his psychoanalytic authority as an adviser to the False Memory Association in Britain has made his own thoughtful account of relations between subjectivity, memory and actuality appear somewhat compromised to feminists.\n\nThere are good reasons to avoid taking any absolute stand on what Fonagy has likened to 'a religious war' between those defending the victims of child abuse and those defending adults who claim to be falsely accused \u2013 although we may not favour his rather bland call for a 'middle road' between two equally deserving positions. More usefully, the combat over 'recovered' versus 'false' memory might help us to problematize the original binary, adding complexity and flexibility to all the terms we use for describing human experience. Valerie Sinason, a fierce defender of the sexually abused, who correctly stresses that the prevalence of unreported abuse far exceeds the existence of false accusations, nevertheless concedes that memory remains a confusing mixture of fantasy and reality. Indeed, she even agrees with the psychoanalyst Bob Hinshelwood that a 'false' memory of the past may represent a distorted account of the present evoked by the experience of an over-intrusive therapist, or by a true memory of some event that was falsified in the past, or perhaps some combination of the two.\n\nThis happens, of course, because the clinical phenomenon of 'transference' is the classic way in which the effects of past encounters are relived in the present. We continue, as we began, to appropriate others all our lives, on and off the couch: either, when fortunate, in the maintenance of supportive intimate relationships with others; or, less fortunately, and much more precariously, in fantasy relationships with others. Freud also introduced the idea of 'screen memory', which is a childhood memory characterized by its clarity, yet seeming insignificance. Like other slips of the tongue or neurotic symptoms, he saw these as compromise formations, involving condensation and displacement of one memory into another one, leading him to wonder of childhood recollections: 'are there memories of which we may say they _emerge from,_ or merely memories which are _related to,_ our childhood?'. As the feminist psychoanalyst Janice Haaken comments from the USA: 'the emotional truth of the past is never to the concrete facticity of events but is always bound up in interpretation, both in the initial experience of events and in the later elaboration and working through in memory'.\n\nAll this takes us back to those subjective concerns and autobiographical reflections which scientists would like to avoid: to the study of personal histories of both consciously and unconsciously motivated remembering and forgetting; but also to cultural narratives and normative discourses, which give us \u2013 or withhold from us \u2013 words and stories which can give utterance to experience via local assumptions, discursive framings and narrative conventions. Both memory researchers and psychoanalysts can agree that memory is unreliable and incomplete. But it is only from within the latter that there is some explanation of the more complex ways in which 'forgetting' is continuously, actively, _motivated._ Nevertheless, it is only from the political concerns and discourses of a feminist framework that some men's systematic abuse of their paternalistic power comes fully into focus. However inimical to the programmed workings of a computer, or to any other mechanistic models of memory storage and recall, the notion that avoidance, self-deception and half-truths are part of everyday interactions is what most of us have long observed, whether in ourselves or of others. This awareness is no more supportive of any notion of 'false memory syndrome' than it is of the truth of any particular 'recovered memory' of abuse. (We may also be aware, however, that it is those who are in positions of power who are far more likely to get away with their own evasions and self-deceptions.) What we should be able to learn from this hubbub over memory is something of the enormity of the work to be done in making sense of the past as it is lived in the present.\n\nChildhood memories are all too real; in adulthood, they remain the most vivid memories we are likely to have, and the only ones we never seem to lose: 'In my private dictionary', Pontalis writes, 'childhood and memory are synonymous'. It was then, in our beginnings, that we were most receptive to everything, least able to classify or forget. Over-supplied with childhood memories as we are, they are nevertheless, necessarily, suffused with fantasy and given meanings which \u2013 especially when originally accompanied by silence and distress \u2013 can and will shift, through the sense that we finally come to make of them, only _afterwards._ This is all the more true when some new experience evokes past pain, or pleasure.\n\nTherapists who are wary of accepting their patients' accounts of abuse experiences, seeing in childhood trauma the primordial route to all adult symptoms, emphasize instead a more complex action of the past on the present, the present on the past. They are concerned not to over-simplify the elaborate threads between the two, arguing that placing all emphasis on the linear power of some original trauma threatens to institutionalize patients into a sense of victimhood and powerlessness. In this climate of heightened awareness of child sexual abuse as _a_ (if for some _the_ ) main cause of adult disorders, the dangers of over-simplification are real enough \u2013 however much the converse is also true: that the False Memory Foundation thrives on the support of those who would like to turn back what they see as feminism's exaggerations of the extent and significance of sexual abuse.\n\nAlmost fifty years after the death of Virginia Woolf, Louise de Salvo published a biography of her in which she attributed Woolf's adult miseries and mental breakdowns to the sexual abuse she experienced as a child at the hands of her older half-brothers, Gerald and George Duckworth. In her own memoir, 'Sketch of the Past', begun two years before her suicide in 1941, Woolf had written of feeling 'ashamed or afraid' when caught looking at herself in the hall mirror as a child, a feeling about her body she would retain all her life. She then immediately recounts a memory of Gerald Duckworth lifting her onto the hallstand when she was around six, and commencing to explore her body and her 'private parts': 'I remember resenting \u2013 disliking it \u2013 what is the word for so dumb and mixed a feeling?' Woolf analyses her own strong reaction as proof that shame at the touching of certain bodily parts 'must be instinctive', an instinct linking her to all 'her ancestresses' through time. (Woolf had earlier written of George Duckworth's much later, and in her mind far more damaging, sexual advances on her as a teenager: although she used them as a type of running joke to entertain friends, she nevertheless saw herself as harmed by them.)\n\nAs though anticipating de Salvo, Woolf continues, immediately after describing the incident with Gerald, to expand on the difficulties of accounting for a person's life, which is always so 'immensely complicated': 'I do not suppose I have got at the truth.... In spite of all this, people write what they call 'lives' of other people; that is, they collect a number of events, and leave the person to whom it happened unknown', Thinking anachronistically for a moment, Woolf almost certainly would have rejected de Salvo's analysis. The central event of childhood for her, the one which brought it to a close, was the death of her mother when she was thirteen: 'the greatest disaster that ever happened', the most distressing aspect of which was that she could feel nothing other than 'the feeling that everything had come to an end'. It certainly seems likely that the Duckworth's sexual exploitation of their half-sister contributed to the sense of danger, shame and panic around sexuality so often to be found in Woolf's writing. But I find more compelling the conclusions of Hermione Lee, her next feminist biographer, that it 'distorts the thick complexity of her family life' to isolate and emphasize only her memories of child sexual abuse.\n\n## **_Narratives in Context_**\n\nDisputes over memory and trauma have kept pace with the growth of Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD), and the separate but increasingly popular psychiatric classification of Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder (PTSD); as mentioned above, these entered the diagnostic manual of the American Psychiatric Association (DSM-III) in 1980. Surveying the cultural background to the extraordinary explosion of cases of MPD, primarily in the USA, Hacking notes that in the early 1970s there were only twelve cases of the disorder known in that country. However, by the mid-1980s there were over 6000, and the numbers have expanded exponentially ever since, with nine out of ten diagnosed 'multiples' being women. There has been a parallel growth in the diagnosis of the more general category of PTSD: seen as connected, in particular, with the psychological effects of repressing the horrors of combat, although MPD is currently understood by those who use the label as a similar type of post-traumatic effect to the repression of childhood sexual abuse. As Allon Young points out, belief in PTSD created new career prospects and resources for psychologists and psychiatrists, especially those treating the stresses and strains of war veterans. But it also meant that ex-soldiers often needed to mimic the trauma\/repression model of psychological illness if they were to receive any psychological or material help.\n\nYoung and Hacking have both written of the 'looping effect' such notions of trauma and memory are likely to create on individual's self-perceptions, when war veterans could obtain treatment and a special pension only if they showed the memory losses thought characteristic of PTSD (the less they could remember about the stresses they had suffered, the more help they could get): 'The men who remembered very well the god-awful things that had happened were sometimes less able to benefit under this program, because PTSD was made to essentially involve not remembering but forgetting'. Without any doubt, one point which at least is clear is that when trying to understand the complexities of psychic life we need to remain attentive to the impact of particular cultural contexts upon individual processes of memory, and the way these help to shape the fashioning and refashioning of identity.\n\nHere is a personal vignette. Frightened of the dark, as a young child who was frequently asthmatic and insomniac, I knew that if I could manage to creep along squeaky corridors, past the bedroom of my father's mistress (the housekeeper), sidle into my parents' bedroom, past the sleeping body of my father, and crouch beside the figure of my sleeping mother, all fear and wheezing would vanish. A state of blissful serenity descended. But if, aware of my presence, my mother accidentally awakened my instantly angry father, all would be lost. I would be shouted at, returned at once, in disgrace, to agitated sleeplessness in my own room and trouble the next day. If I eventually succeeded in waking only my mother (by silently stroking her arm), we would both creep into the bathroom, where I would be given a very strong sleeping tablet, usually a Nembutal. Is this a memory of personal bliss \u2013 the fleeting moment of complete peace of mind and body beside my mother?; of abusive neglect \u2013 the stirring of paternal rage against a sick and frightened child?; of maternal carelessness \u2013 the giving of adult sleeping tablets to a child?; or what? It all depends on how I tell the tale, who is listening, and to the fact that my fantasies of safety beside my mother (accurate or not: I was later seriously poisoned by a drug \u2013 pure adrenaline \u2013 she had handed over to me in young adulthood) do seem stronger than the ubiquitous fear of my father (justified or not: my main fear seemed to be that he was somehow linked with evil spirits who lived under a huge desk that occupied the whole of the space in the annexe of my L-shaped bedroom, where a gloomy painting of a shipwreck hung \u2013 perhaps a Turner reproduction).\n\nJeffrey Masson may be right that there is no more important task for psychic health than being able to tell one's own story, given how much we suffer when our identity feels precarious (at least, outside the sympathetic arena of selfconsciously queer performativity). But we need also to hear those stories through the tales of our time, to question them, and to draft them anew. As Pontalis observed, 'One shouldn't write _one_ autobiography but ten of them or a hundred because, while we have only one life, we have innumerable ways of recounting that life (to ourselves)'. There is also a politics, as well as a social space, involved in the telling of stories \u2013 especially the stories we tell not just to ourselves, but for the attention of others. By asking new questions about men's power over women and children, within and beyond the family, feminism gave rise to stories of sexual abuse, and ways to challenge and survive it. Today, some of the feminists who first wrote of child sexual abuse now lament its prolixity.\n\nBack in the 1970s, Louise Armstrong called for a public 'speakout' on incest in the USA, attacking the 'patriarchal perogative' behind it \u2013 quickly confident that it could all be overturned. Today, saturated with tales of childhood abuse and steps for recovery, she argues that the point of such speakouts is almost completely lost: 'In breaking the silence we hoped to raise hell. Instead, we have raised for the issue a certain normalcy. We hoped to raise a passion for change. Instead what we raised was discourse \u2013 and a sizable problem-management industry'. On the one hand, the self-disclosure of survivors has been sensationalized and exploited by the media; on the other, it has been recuperated to reinforce the need for expert advice and support. Other feminists have similarly criticized the depoliticized fate of many feminist ideas in the service of self-help discourses: 'One of the ways in which the recovery movement has been most destructive to women, and to progressive polities', as Elayne Rapping notes, is in the insistence on a single, very simplistic narrative pattern to explain our lives'.\n\nFeminists like Louise Armstrong or Michele Davies now accuse Freudianism and the therapy industry generally of seducing and undermining feminism as a political movement for women's liberation, diverting its goals from social criticism to personal 'growth' and 'healing', calling this the liberal takeover of a radical movement. But such accusations fail to acknowledge that it was significant strands of feminism itself which revitalized psychoanalytic accounts, in their search for greater understanding of subjectivity, and the conflicts women faced in their own lives. Some feminists turned to Freud, and many women believe they have benefited from the rise of a feminist-informed therapeutic community. Freudians did not, in general, turn to feminism; many psychoanalysts to this day remain explicitly hostile towards it. Moreover, as we shall see in my next chapter, many feminists who are most concerned to explore the psychological dynamics of gender differences and conflicts are the ones who remain most antagonistic to Freud. There has indeed been a growth in psychological attempts to treat gender-related tensions and anxieties, but much of it, interestingly, is now concerned with the problems of boys and men. Moving on from the battles over memory and child sexual abuse, I want to tackle the whole sweep of contemporary personal, cultural and social anxieties surrounding gender, exploring what psychologists have been able to contribute, and the impact of feminism within that discipline.\n\n# 5  \nGender Anxieties at the Limits of Psychology\n\n> A profusion of images and fantasies, unstable and unintegrated, is more constitutive of the contemporary gendered subject than is the more stable, dichotomous world of gendered subjects of a century ago.\n> \n> Janice Haaken, _Pillars of Salt_\n\nNot Freud, but Darwin, provides the scientific credentials for the human sciences today, as we saw in chapter 3. But his supporters' faith in the intrinsic sexual polarities evolved to ensure 'reproductive success', stabilized over two million years, has not managed to prevent the escalation of gender anxieties. Neither the impassioned questioning, nor the staunch reaffirmation, of traditional gender polarities can shed much light on the continuing social disruption and, for some, disorientating change in the everyday lives of both women and men. Population surveys continue to inform us of people's apprehensions over gender issues. In Britain, Roy Porter and Sarah Dunant introduce their anthology of this _fin de si\u00e8cle,_ entitled _The Age of Anxiety,_ by citing evidence of the prevailing social and psychological unease, even panic, over gender matters: family breakdown, working mothers, single parents \u2013 reflecting, in particular, change in women's choices and objectives; fears of crime and violence \u2013 reflecting, it would appear, men's increasing levels of destructive behaviour, both against themselves and others.\n\nIn close agreement, when the training analyst Andrew Samuels carried out a survey of fourteen different psychotherapy organizations, across seven countries, he found that gender concerns were the primary political issues brought into therapy for every professional body he contacted, and across all countries \u2013 first of all, and usually overwhelmingly, gender issues for women, followed by gender issues for men. In the same vein, Joan Raphael-Leff and Rosine Josef Perelman, surveying female analysts' clinical work with women throughout the twentieth century, conclude that women have remained perennially uneasy over their sense of themselves as 'feminine', whether manifest in symptoms of tension, depression, anorexia or other forms of psychological distress and damage. Yet, women's gendered anxieties are today matched, if not surpassed, by evidence of men's fears around 'masculinity'. Certainly, it is men today who are most likely to commit suicide or call the Samaritans for help. Some theoreticians may view 'gender' as primarily an ideologically prescriptive term, but few could seriously doubt its continued significance in shaping people's sense of self-identity, whatever its diversity and instability. In chapter 2, I argued that 'gender' is best seen as an analytic term referring to a complex set of interacting forces (biological, social and symbolic) producing multiple contrasts at the level of individual experience, which are rarely as distinct as many would like them to be. At the experiential level, as Muriel Dimen comments, gender 'is variably meaningful, a variability which generates uncertainty, invites inquiry, and offers richness'. It is what psychologists have been able to contribute to that inquiry, and to the understanding and attempted amelioration of the high anxieties surrounding gender, to which I now turn.\n\n## _Feminism Enters the Academy_\n\nIt is no longer controversial to suggest that gender interrogations have produced some of the most dynamic debates in the social sciences and the humanities over the last twenty-five years. These have arisen both from the dramatic changes in routine gender practices, and from challenges to customary gender significations. Most significantly, they reflect the growing legitimacy and authority of feminist scholarship during those years; albeit always contested, and itself internally riven by theoretical and political disputes. Placing women at the centre of its analysis, feminist theorizing has been vigorously embroiled in all the wider battles of intellectual life in the late twentieth century, especially in literature, cultural studies, history and sociology. Beginning with methodological critiques of 'male-centred' empiricism in the 1960s (seen as marginalizing if not ruling out the particularities of women's lives in the name of a false universalism) it progressed to pursue new studies recording women's distinctive experiences (or women's 'voices'). As discussed in chapter 2, recent appropriations of post-structuralist thinking have led some feminists towards a more self-consciously, self-critical epistemology: problematizing experiential reports; pluralizing gender categories; questioning the stability of notions of identity or subjectivity; still all the while seeking to deconstruct existing normative knowledges while hoping to construct more self-reflexive, multi-faceted and liberatory alternatives.\n\nWithin mainstream psychology, however, feminism has made comparatively less of an impact than elsewhere. For nearly three decades most feminist psychologists, like feminist scholars more generally, have consistently criticized positivist methodologies and claimed a special affinity between their goals and a plurality of qualitative methods. Yet their critique of psychology's statistical traditions has remained marginal: 'Struggling with high critical theory, self-reflection and worries about \"so what?'\", as the American psychologists Michelle Fine and Corrine Bertram wrote in the British journal _Feminism and Psychology,_ 'we, nevertheless, tootle along with our chi-squares, our hypotheses and our \"limits on generalizability'\". This is despite the remarkable shift in the numbers of women entering the discipline: 400 per cent _more_ women than men studying psychology today, compared with the 50 per cent _less_ women than men back in 1969.\n\nThe difficulties faced by feminist psychologists hoping to reconstitute their discipline can be gauged from the fact that where it is most prominent, in the USA, the Psychology of Women section in the American Psychological Association is rated in the bottom third of interest or importance, whereas the Sex and Gender section of the equivalent American Sociology Association is the largest and most influential division. Nevertheless, in line with its distinct disciplinary concerns, sex-difference research (comparing and contrasting individual differences between women and men) increased a thousandfold once gender issues impacted upon experimental agendas from the late 1960s. But, once measured, and _any_ disparity recorded, the 'nature\/nurture' debate continued to provide the theoretical framing for much of this expanding research field.\n\n## _Still Searching for Sex Differences_\n\nBefore the 1960s stereotyped sex differences were mostly either simply assumed or, when measured, assigned axiomatically to biology. After that time, especially following Maccoby's and Jacklin's landmark publication in 1974, it became equally routine \u2013 although just as routinely challenged \u2013 to point out that there are more similarities than differences between the sexes, and to assign recorded psychological differences to environmental processes. Ten years later, Kay Deaux, overviewing psychological research from the previous decade, was, even more firmly, concluding that sex differences were 'surprisingly small in most cases' (amounting to no more than between 1 and 5 per cent of the average variance between women and men). She also emphasized the overriding importance of social context, or 'situational factors', in determining whether sex differences would be found, including the significance of the sex of the researcher: women, for example, apparently show more 'helping behaviour' if they are being observed, but not when unobserved; women conform more to group pressure in face-to-face situations, but not in 'situations that lack surveillance'. What we always need to ask, as Stephen Jay Gould insisted in his 1980s best-seller, _The Mismeasure of Man_ (echoed a decade later in Carole Tavris, _The Mismeasure of Woman),_ is just _who_ is doing the measuring, and for _what purpose?_ Today, methodological leaps in data analysis allow the presentation of ever more grandiose meta-analytic treatments of existing statistical correlations. And we are reminded, yet again, that there _are_ a few small sex differences in the average aptitudes and traits recorded on particular psychological measurements: these may, or may not, have some biological underpinning; they show far greater variability within than between biological sexes; and they change or, more precisely, appear to be decreasing, over time.\n\nHowever, if the developments in sex difference research spurred some women in psychology into heightened pursuit of them, arguing \u2013 as Alice Eagly and Carol Jacklin have done \u2013 that it is crucial for combating prevailing stereotypes and gender discriminations, many others are far more critical. Even the search for sex similarities, these critics suggest, merely endorses a way of looking at the world which remains trapped in the deliberations generated by polarized gender categories. Meanwhile, it would be hard not to notice that this particular research tradition, tirelessly measuring individual differences in cognitive or other psychological traits in order to offer up a few small differences, leaves psychologists with next to nothing to contribute to an understanding of the pervasive anxieties around the blurring of gender differences. A few small differences neither herald nor explain such very big anxieties. Yet, as the escalating genre of books about men and masculinities discussed below all testify, ongoing changes in gender arrangements have produced a pervasive sense of tension, suspicion and distrust in gender relations: this unease is, ironically, most obvious in recent documentation of men's fears and anxieties. Surveying men's differing psychological and social responses to changing gender relations in the late 1990s, one North American researcher reflects the views of most of his peers when he concludes: 'It's actually getting harder and harder for a young male to figure out how to _be a_ man'.\n\nAlthough it fails to address such anxieties, and is now matched by a parallel intensification of debate questioning its validity and utility, the research output on sex differences in individual attributes shows no sign of abating. On the contrary, it proliferates. It proliferates not only because it conforms to the quantitative methodologies still dominating psychological research and favoured by funding bodies, and also because of the new injunctions to publish or perish as our academies are forced to operate by the rules of commodity production (or perhaps, I should say, publish as you perish, if you come from the newer universities in Britain), but because the media, and the world at large, are always eager for the products of sex difference research, however trivial and inconsistent. In particular, they doggedly search out any purportedly 'new' evidence which can be interpreted in support of biological sex differences. The irony is that human beings are never simply at the mercy of their biology, even were there consistent evidence for significant sex differences which could be mapped on to the human genome. As suggested in chapter 3, any form of genetic reductionism flies in the face of all serious genetic theory since the 1970s, which rejects earlier assumptions that genes determine human action in any stable or straightforward way. A behavioural trait can be said to be genetic only if genes alone provide the best explanation for its origin, and this is simply not the case for _any_ complex human trait. A multiplicity of other mechanisms always interact with the compound genetic codings bearing upon any single human event.\n\n## _Feminist Psychology and Social Constructionism_\n\nMany feminist psychologists, however, have managed to introduce a rich new theoretical literature by turning away from the mainstream preoccupation with sex difference research and the quantitative study of individual attributes which it endorses. They have focused instead on the conflicts and difficulties accompanying the acquisition of normative gender and sexual identities in girls. The dominant theoretical explanations they favour make use of learning theory and cognitive theory, but in line with a more general social construction framework which pays close attention to social context and meanings. This framework meets the challenge that Naomi Weisstein mounted in 1968, alleging that 'psychology has nothing to say about what women are really like', because it has looked for inner traits at the expense of social context. Here gender attributes are not reduced to any fixed, specific set of individual abilities or traits, but nevertheless are seen as central, stable and abiding patterns of behaviour and cognitive frameworks typifying 'femininity' and reflecting women's subordinate position in society compared with men.\n\nFeminist work on the construction of gender, which most often adopts qualitative rather than quantitative methodologies, has introduced new perspectives and valuable research on a whole array of once stereotyped, trivialized or, most often, totally excluded topics (from menarche and motherhood to lesbian therapy or male violence), while also questioning the production of knowledge abstracted from its social context. As Leonore Tiefer recalled in her address to the American Women in Psychology Conference on its twentieth anniversary in 1989, there really was no research on sex and gender before the recent feminist input. This new research has provided a chilling catalogue of data, almost all of it indicating psychological disadvantages which women face compared with men throughout all the phases of their lives. As Rhoda Unger and Mary Crawford summarize the findings to date: 'Boys have no difficulty becoming \"men,\" but girls become \"women\" reluctantly and at a later age. Maturity does not confer status on women'. Beyond the academy, at its crucial interface with the media, it is the work of Carol Gilligan, and her studies of adolescent girls in the USA that has provided the best-known qualitative research, very much in line with this conclusion. According to one commentator in the USA, 'not a week seems to go by without Gilligan being quoted in a newspaper or on television about the way girls suddenly lose confidence and hope at age twelve'.\n\nThis work has been crucial in exposing how stereotypes of 'femininity' can undermine women's confidence, and dictate gendered performances which confirm rather than contest existing meanings and social practices securing men's dominance. Although we now often read reports of Western women's new confidence and multiple achievements, especially the rising expectations of younger women, these are matched by a steady accumulation of continuing problems women face attempting to negotiate their apparently more open and autonomous lives. Feminist psychologists have been able to show just how problematic most women's lives remain, despite their new Western freedoms: whether facing the continuing (some studies even suggest increasing) stigma of women's body weight, encountering menstrual tensions or menopausal distress, dealing with men's sexual violence and surviving child abuse, resisting racism, confronting the conflicts and ambivalences of motherhood, or simply struggling to communicate with men in contexts of unequal status and power. Deploying social constructionist perspectives, these detailed and focused studies explore how gender still operates as a system of social control of women. They all reject theories of sex differences at the level of the individual, offering convincing support for their shared view that, as Mary Crawford summarizes concisely: 'gender is not an attribute of individuals but a way of making sense of transactions'.\n\n## _Openness to Gender Heterodoxy_\n\nThese studies do have their critics, however, some of whom are feminist psychologists themselves. Although providing a significant body of work on the limitations facing women as a _group_ within their specific cultural contexts, some gender theorists, like me, have been troubled by the fact that in most of the feminist social constructionist studies it is always women, _as_ women, who face problems and suffer from the consequences. Isolating gender, and conceiving it only as 'difference', inevitably tends to flatten out conflicts and diversity between and, especially, within women's experiences and behaviour (notwithstanding explicit mindfulness to race, ethnicity, class and sexual orientation). It tends towards a form of gender absolutism, where alternative conceptual framings of women's experience find little space.\n\nMoreover, despite attention to social context and meaning, many feminist psychologists, typified by Gilligan, allude to consistent _internal_ dynamics as directing gender practices, whether through culturally reinforced predispositions or through the acquisition of shared meanings. The danger is that these constructivist accounts of gender identity may merely replace earlier biological reductionisms with new forms of cultural reductionism, whether in terms of the internalization of sex roles, the performance of social scripts, the deployment of dominant discourses, or the gender differentiating effects of mother-child relationships. Insofar as gender is seen as consistently internalized, the worn out biological\/social polarity has not been transcended to embrace any richer psychological hermeneutics attempting to encompass the contingent, precarious, often contradictory, processes through which the social becomes embodied. Conceptions of the social have been expanded, but how they impinge upon subjectivity remains insufficiently elaborated.\n\nIdentities are indeed social, but they are also exceedingly complex \u2013 both psychologically and in terms of their socio-cultural framing. One problem with social construction theory is that it has tended to erase the nuances of subjective conflict and ambivalence. It usually eschews any need for critical appropriation of psychoanalytic insights which, drawing on clinical data and detailed biographical observation, may open our eyes to the contradictory and disruptive _particularities_ of psychic life in relation to culture and history. Whereas social construction theories (however interpreted) lead us to expect the successful moulding of gender identities and behaviour, psychoanalytic reflections point us towards the continual _failure_ of psychic life fully to reflect consciously learned norms. For example, it is pertinent to recall that sex researchers from the time of the Kinsey report on male sexuality (1949) have suggested that 'the largest single category of homosexual men are heterosexually married'. Only through some understanding of the frequent failure of the inner world to reflect cultural norms does it become easier to see why it should be men who, although the favoured and most powerful sex, and despite the continual and ubiquitous policing of any 'effeminate' deviance, should so far outnumber women in seeking gender reassignment operations.\n\nIn view of contemporary gender anxieties, it seems to me that psychoanalytic accounts are indispensable for just this insight that sexual identity (and its normative ties with heterosexual desire) is only ever a precarious achievement, and in danger of subversion from within as well as from without. As we will see in the next chapter, some well-known gender theorists now practising as psychoanalysts in the USA, such as Muriel Dimen, use their case studies to illustrate the perennial ambiguities of supposed gender contrasts and differences: 'Sometimes these contrasts remain distinct, at other times they intersect, and at still other times they fuse and exchange identities'. But this openness to the central yet always fraught place of sexual difference in the grammar of the unconscious, which can often be found within psychoanalytic discourses, still comes mostly from those \u2013 like Nancy Chodorow, Jessica Benjamin, Jane Flax or Dimen herself \u2013 situated outside academic psychology.\n\nIdentities, of whatever sort, are also generated in social contexts which are nowadays always dynamic and shifting, involving a plurality of signifying practices and competing cultural narratives. A second problem with social construction frameworks, especially as interpreted by psychologists, is their tendency to limit the diversity of cultural meanings which gender encodes, as well as the performative potentialities and instabilities of even the most established social relations. Thus, seemingly at odds with psychological generalizations that 'girls become \"women\" reluctantly', some sociologists studying adolescents have been reporting how girls today, unlike boys in their own peer group, 'speak with a palpable sense of agency, confidence, determination and hope about their future lives, even if their plans may be considered less realistic in a wider context of women's work more generally'. Meanwhile, male managers, while still in fact monopolizing power and influence, feel 'besieged' on all sides, as Michael Roper reports, by economic changes and new competition from younger women, as well as other men.\n\nGender certainly remains a central principle of social organization. But it operates at multiple and shifting levels, no longer as homogeneous or exclusive as it once was in privileging straight (white) men. Psychologists studying how gender shapes identities and perceptions need to explore the very specific ways in which it functions, paying close attention to the effects of cultural ruptures detected by sociological or historical frameworks: these may be generated by shifts in employment patterns, changes in family structures and the visibility of non-normative sexual subcultures, the emergence of ethnic or national struggles, or reorganizations within educational and other cultural, religious and political bodies. Shifts in gender relations also trigger a variety of social movements engaging explicitly with gender politics and the competing ideologies and cultural perceptions they generate. Some are dedicated to embracing change \u2013 like feminism, lesbian and gay struggles, or anti-sexist men's politics; others to arresting it \u2013 like men's rights advocates and religious or ethnic fundamentalists. These new subcultural belongings, with their radical or conservative rhetorics, crucially shape gendered self-perceptions and collective aspirations, providing their own distinct narratives of life events generating widely differing forms of collective actions and individual experience.\n\nIt is thus only by travelling between disciplines, and drawing upon diverse theoretical traditions, that I think we can begin to put together an adequate framework for understanding gender issues. Of course, we are all _positioned_ as either male or female, and much of the time most of us may habitually enact gender behaviour more or less appropriate to the cultures to which we belong. Yet, if we choose to look for the _unexpected,_ the counter-intuitive, there is also evidence in most life histories to suggest that the supposedly psychological foundations of gender enactments fluctuate over time. This suggests the importance of collecting 'thick' data, which is rich enough to expose the fragility, contradiction and context-bound resistance or compliance within gendered experiences and performance. It is only from such data that we can learn that women's presumed sensitivity and concern is far from ubiquitous; just as men faced with the inevitability of caring for others (as single fathers, healthy partners of ailing loved ones, and so on) may reveal hitherto underused capacities for compassion, nurturing or sexual responsibility.\n\n## _The Predicament of Men_\n\nOne way to illustrate these theoretical arguments on the limits of psychology's role in explaining \u2013 or intervening in \u2013 contemporary gender problems, is by looking specifically at what many people now see as a, if not _the,_ burning issue of our time: the presumed 'crisis' of masculinity in the Western world. How should we respond to the explosion of discourse on men's anxieties, and anxieties about men? We should respond, I will suggest, by remaining attentive, above all, to the contradictions and silences in the literature.\n\nSeemingly completely at odds with the findings usually presented in feminist psychology texts, which have seen women as the disadvantaged sex, the new 'masculinity' literature uncannily mirrors them, in both methodology and outcome. It focuses upon men's own experiences, generates evidence of men's gender-specific suffering and has given birth to a new field of enquiry, 'Men's Studies'. We are told today that boys are failing in school, and from a very early age. Adolescent males are more miserable than adolescent girls. Moving onwards in life, men today have far higher incidences of suicide, alcoholism, drug addiction, serious accidents, cardiovascular disease, and significantly lower life expectancies than women. As the twentieth century draws to its close, men are presented as the threatened sex (at least in this literature), even as they remain, everywhere, the threatening sex.\n\nThe evidence for the increasing intellectual, emotional and physical impoverishment of 'men' is indeed startling for those used to reading about the converse and continuing disadvantages of 'women', as the sex still most distanced from economic, cultural and political power. The puzzle is that _both_ sides of this apparent contradiction are easily verified. This peculiarity is hard to grasp if you start from psychologists' preferred methodological habit of sampling individual performances and hunting down gender contrasts. More curiously, perhaps, the reality of the first set of problems around 'masculinity' are everywhere tied in with the persisting truth of women's secondary social status and identity. It is because 'manhood' still has a _symbolic_ weight denied to 'womanhood' that men's apparent failings loom so large, both to men themselves and to those around them. This is why literature on masculinity keeps circling the problem, with few credible exits in sight.\n\nThe most commonplace but crucial source of the ostensible contradiction is that men, like women, are not a homogeneous group. Indeed, it is _only_ in their ubiquitously cited and definitively enforced demarcation from 'women' that the deep and pervasive divisions between men can be ignored. The perpetuation and tenacity of men's power in day-to-day gender relations are easily established. Compared with women, in all parts of the world, men still have overwhelmingly greater access to cultural prestige, political authority, corporate power and individual wealth \u2013 whatever the costs, confusions and insecurities of individual men. But of course, it is only particular groups of men in any society who will occupy positions of public power and influence. Yet this is precisely what secures rather than undermines the hierarchical structuring of conceptions of gender through relations of dominance: the symbolic equation of 'masculinity' with power and 'femininity' with powerlessness. Despite forceful feminist critique, despite all the documented upheavals or 'crisis tendencies' in men's lives (as women gain greater independence and control over their own), the forces securing 'men' in power have been dented, but not, as yet, substantially dismantled. The meanings and fantasies accompanying the equation of men and power are thus largely undisturbed. What has been seriously disrupted, however, is the taken-for-granted legitimation of this hierarchy as natural and inevitable. Today that legitimation is as fiercely questioned by some as it is forcefully defended by others.\n\nAnd men do suffer. Pain was never the exclusive prerogative of women, whatever the distinctive role of some men's violence and sexual coercion in promoting it. Men's suffering is most easily accounted for when they are furthest removed from the status and authority which 'masculinity' presumptively confers. When we look more closely at the evidence offered for the 'crisis' in masculinity today, we can decipher a picture in which _all_ the most significant differences on display are differences between men themselves, rather than contrasts between men and women. Thus, as all official statistics in Britain indicate, it is _particular_ groups of men, especially unemployed, unskilled and unmarried men, who have far higher mortality and illness rates compared with other groups of men. Class, ethnicity and 'race', not gender, are the major predictors of educational failure, unemployment and crime. Unemployment is the common condition of the overwhelming majority of men who commit violent offences, while boys in caring, non-violent households in non-violent neighbourhoods, are hardly more likely to be violent than girls from similar backgrounds.\n\nHowever, rather than addressing the appallingly destructive consequences of inequalities between men \u2013 which do indeed have a serious gender dimension as boys and men anxiously compare themselves and compete _with each other \u2013_ we are far more likely to read largely spurious reports of contrasts between men and women. 'Are Boys in Terminal Decline?', the British broadsheet the _Independent_ asked in 1994, a question echoed by other serious newspapers, radio and television programmes ever since. Most suggest, for instance, that the 'Clever Girls', and the attention girls receive from feminist inclined teachers, create the problem for the 'Lost Boys'. As one representative and supposedly 'in-depth' reflection on 'The Problem of Co-Education' spelt out: 'Success for girls may now be being matched by failure for boys'. Similar alarmist rhetoric about boys has been appearing in most advanced industrial societies throughout the 1990s.\n\nYet, these comparisons obscure a reality where most boys are neither 'failing' nor lost'. They are doing better than ever at school, and even better again as they move from school to university, or into their careers. As the report by Madeleine Arnot and her co-workers on _Educational Reforms and Gender Equality in Schools_ indicates, while overall success at the British intermediate (GCSE) educational level is a little higher for girls than for boys, boys slightly outperform girls in final 'A-level' school examinations. The point is, it is only when gender contrasts can be presented in ways which question the traditional assumption that men _should_ be the dominant sex that any media attention is focused upon them. There is nothing at all new in the educational failure of working class and certain ethnic minority boys, whose alienation in school has always accompanied the assertion of a rebellious, anti-learning 'masculine' bravado. As Mich\u00e8le Cohen notes: 'The question that needs to be asked, then, is not \"Why are boys now underachieving?\", but rather that of why boy's underachievement has now become an object of concern'. What is new, now that girls overall are not falling behind boys in quite the way they used to, is the attempt to blame girls, or feminist teachers, for the problem. What is not so new is the diversion of attention away from the key problem: the moulding of masculinities.\n\nNevertheless, it is not only distortion, spurious gender comparisons or even the acute failures or distress of particular groups of boys and men that is currently feeding talk of 'crisis' in masculinity today. The ineluctable rise of men's studies and the accompanying glut of books on masculinity reveal a situation in academic and professional literature in which men and the audiences they are addressing clearly view their own 'masculinity' as an issue newly fraught with personal doubts, social anxieties and conceptual fragmentations. Echoing aspects of feminist thinking, 'masculinity' is seen here not only as damaging to others, especially women, but damaging to men themselves. As Roger Horrocks declares in his prototypical text, _Masculinity in Crisis_ (1994), men are 'haunted by feelings of emptiness, impotence and rage'.\n\nMale psychologists researching gender issues have endorsed the idea of a pervasive 'crisis of masculinity' and proceeded to offer their own explanations and remedies. An overview of most of the recent work done on the psychology of masculinity in the USA is provided in Ronald Levant's and William Pollack's weighty compendium _A New Psychology of Men_ (1995). Psychologists here argue that gender relations have shifted rapidly in recent decades, but that male role expectations are slower to change, producing dysfunctional behaviour in men. Bewildered and confused, they tell us, men are unable to take any pride in being a man. As they see it, men urgently require more sensitive understanding of their emotional conflicts, and new skills to tackle them.\n\nThe theoretical underpinning of this particular analysis of men's problems is elaborated most fully by the North American psychologist Joseph Pleck in his modified role theory perspective, the 'gender role strain' or 'conflict' approach. Here, it is not men's biology which creates the crisis of masculinity, nor even their psychology, but rather prescribed gender role expectations which are seen as restrictive, contradictory and confusing \u2013 promoting dysfunctional behaviour. To create better lives for men, it follows, these prescriptions can and must be changed. It is because men are unable to express their emotions that many men are driven to destructive behaviours: 'certain male problems (such as aggression and violence, homophobia, misogyny, detached fathering and neglect of health) are unfortunate but predictable results of the male socialization process'. Some contributors to this collection mix in reductive psychodynamic assumptions from a simplified 'object relations' theory: men as boys are forced to 'disidentify' from mothers too soon, creating lasting trauma.\n\n## _Projects for Reforming Masculinity_\n\nThe rapidly expanding psychological research on masculinity, much of it pursued by men, does provide useful surveys of contemporary men's lives: from fathering to health problems and increasing levels of self- and other directed violence. However, there are serious objections to an analysis of men's predicaments in terms of prescribed and conflicting gender roles, which I will quickly summarize here, as I (and others) have done many times before. The object of analysis \u2013 male role expectations \u2013 is systematically ambiguous. Pleck, for example, and most of his fellow researchers, say they reject the notion of internalized male sex role 'identity', stressing instead the low self-esteem produced by failure to fulfil shifting male role expectations, alongside the negative consequences and dysfunctional behaviour resulting from overconformity to them. But as we read these texts, we soon learn of men's 'nearly universal' inability to express emotions, leading to their over-reliance on aggression and failure to maintain intimacy with others. Since the notion of 'gender role identity' has been used in social psychology to refer to the acquisition of a stable set of gender-specific characteristics, the dysfunctional behaviours men are thought to share in these accounts seem _inseparable_ from the apparently rejected notion of internalized sex role _identities._\n\nAlso, we do not find in these studies any convincing account of what it is that keeps compelling men to overconform to male role expectations, or others to rebel against them. This surely needs some thoughtful explanation when it is men themselves (rather than women) who are seen as the losers here. Finally, there is a distinctive form of liberalism behind the analysis and the solutions offered by Levant and Pollack. Many men have yet to see the light, they suggest, but self-transformation is on the agenda once men are educated to see the concrete dangers of traditional male roles. However, since these authors believe that the light dawned during the mid-1970s, when feminist scholars criticized 'our traditional, phallocentric, gender-biased psychology', after which 'the edifice of traditional masculinity collapsed', one is simply left to wonder what has been holding things up? And why should it be now, rather than at the close of the 1970s (in the heyday of feminist critique, and the first publications by Pleck and others on the dangers of the male sex role) that things are going to change, with a bit of help from the sympathetic psychologist?\n\nWhat has been holding things up, some might suggest, is that the symbolic power, or 'phallic fantasies', of masculinity neither arise from, nor reduce to, any specific set of social 'expectations' or individual behaviour patterns. Rather, 'gender' encapsulates _shifting_ relations of difference between men and women, but differences _always already_ structured through the assumed dominance of masculinity over femininity. 'Masculinity' is an abstraction, condensing notions of power and authority: it is that which makes it always so precarious, rather than the individual foibles of frail and damaged men. It is also precarious, in many psychoanalytic readings, because no child, either male or female, emerges from the conflictual psychodynamics and emotional investments of family life without a certain measure of unconscious agitation and ambiguity over sexual difference and identity. 'Masculinity' is by definition opposed to 'femininity', these are relational concepts which derive their meaning from their difference from each other. This is why 'masculinity' is always at war with 'femininity', feeding gender battles and the continuing climate of misogyny (perhaps of increasing misogyny, if we consider the escalation of reported crimes of violence against women, internationally, over the last few decades). It is thus a mistake to think we can eliminate men's anxieties simply by reforming 'masculinity'. It is the complex edifice of polarized gender hierarchy, at the structural, interpersonal and psychic level, which have all to be undermined, before attempted _shifts_ in the meanings adhering to appropriate gender roles or identities have any secure context or foundation.\n\nMeanwhile, as Pleck and others take pains to establish, deploying a multitude of empirical data and diverse 'masculinity scales' and ratings, conspicuous displays of so-called 'feminine' skills may be just the sort of 'modernization' of men's behaviour which will increase their power as individual men (over both women and other men). Indeed, Robert Weiss's study of eight-five successful American businessmen (all upper middle class, white and identified as heterosexual), published in 1990, suggests the importance of men being able to transform their former masculine competitiveness into 'more or less affectionate alliances' with others, although the self-disclosure of feelings is carefully monitored. Other men are not so fortunate. 'Gentleness' as a skill is unlikely to be much of an asset to unemployed men \u2013 or women \u2013 who live by their wits. (There are only so many ways to rob a bank \u2013 unless, of course, you own it, or work as a commodity trader.) It is only their blindness to social issues, particularly those of class, which allows Pleck and his co-researchers to believe that the 'endorsement of masculinity ideology' is itself the decisive causal factor in explaining its existing correlation with 'problem behaviors' in young men.\n\nThe limitations of this personal re-skilling of men as a way of overturning men's 'traditional, phallocentric psychology' should be evident from the fact that 'machismo' derives from, and has become synonymous with, the behaviour of subordinated (originally Latino) men \u2013 working-class and ethnic minority. 'I want to be deep and not just macho', a popular cartoon depicting Victor Mature mocked the 'new man' politics of the late 1970s, reminding us of earlier attempts at gender reconstruction in the 1950s. It could serve as a precis of much recent research on masculinity in social psychology. Once we note the hybrid nature of masculinity and its internal hierarchies, traversed by class and race, we find that men have remained the dominant sex by constantly refashioning masculinity. Indeed, as Andrew Ross notes: 'the reason why patriarchy remains so powerful is due less to its entrenched traditions than to its versatile capacity to shape-change and morph the contours of masculinity to fit with shifts in the social climate; in this it shares with capitalism a modernizing hunger to seize the present and dictate the future'.\n\nAlthough aware of its historically specific and changing forms, and the very uneven distribution of power available to different groups of men in line with class, 'race' and other social hierarchies, Ross chooses to speak of 'patriarchy' to describe the continuing dominance of men as a sex, worldwide. He shares this preference with the Australian sociologist Bob Connell, who never loses sight of what he calls the 'patriarchal dividend', nor of the possible limitations of any project to reform masculinity, suggesting that it may only 'help modernize patriarchy rather than abolish it'. In his book _Masculinities_ (1995), Connell studies life histories collected from contrasting groups of Australian men to illustrate the ways in which the tensions and ambiguity _within_ conventional gender practices are never far from the surface, either psychologically or socially: whether he is exploring the contradictions of the compliant and passive labour that goes into acquiring the strong and active male body capable of succeeding in sport, the homosocial bonds consolidated through queer baiting, or the anxieties of those men who have embraced feminism.\n\nYet these inherent instabilities, which fracture even while they maintain gender arrangements, do not automatically promote resistance through a process of enlightened self-interest. On the contrary, as Connell illustrates, except for those who consciously embrace a feminist ideology, such tensions often produce no more than attempts to shore up a personal sense of gender dominance, by whatever means possible. The 'backlash' politics of moral conservatives, whether campaigning against women's reproductive rights, punitively stigmatizing single mothers, supporting harsh cutbacks in welfare provision and the elimination of equal opportunity legislation (while fighting to preserve and strengthen paternal rights) is only the most organized side of this. And while it is true that men's traditional place in the workplace and the home is now being constantly challenged and remade, we still see a continuing refusal (especially of men at the top levels of political and corporate life) to support social policies which recognize and could assist the smoother working of transformed gender relations. In Britain, for example, an emphasis on the introduction of tougher teaching styles, focused on boys' interests, alongside the hiring of successful male mentors to act as role models, have largely replaced earlier anti-sexist attempts to introduce issues of gender equality and to change existing gender cultures at school. Whether in the classroom or in the new prisons built for adolescent offenders, concern about failures or wrongdoing by 'boys' has led less to the questioning of dominant versions of 'masculinity' than to attempts to shore them up. As Lynn Raphael Reed writes of the new bellicose language and imagery of masculinity in Britain: 'We are asked to join the government \"crusade\", to use \"tough love\", send in \"hit squads\", \"name and shame\", have \"zero tolerance of failure\" and silence the \"doubts of cynics and the corrosion of the perpetual sceptics\".'\n\nWhether taking the form of social alarm over men's individual failings or personal shame over feelings of weakness and inadequacy, neither the anxieties surrounding masculinity nor the differing solutions for tackling them, are especially new. Indeed, anxiety and insecurity have _always_ accompanied men's assertions of virility, as Michael Kimmel's trawl through two centuries of writing about 'Manhood in America' reveals, in line with similar overviews by historians in Britain. But, as most feminists and their male sympathizers know only too well, any suggestion that men should simply abandon their quest for 'manhood', even now, has few followers. This is because the most ancient and easiest way of indulging, and at least partially assuaging, men's chronic fears of failure over whether they are 'man enough' has always been the expression of hostility towards women. Women have long been blamed for men's problems: they are the original threat, the fountain of all the forces of feminization. Confined to the separate sphere of the home, women emasculate their sons; allowed into the workplace, they threaten men's authority; today, in the public sphere, they undermine men's preserve with assertions of equality. The knowledge that it never was women who were responsible for men's dread of effeminacy, but men themselves in their collective attempt to affirm mastery over those they must definitively exclude to preserve the category of manhood, hardly offers any release for men's deep fear or resentment which, characteristically of phobic reaction, massively overestimates the power of what is feared.\n\nResearchers into men and masculinity who have been most concerned to find new practical directions for men in Britain, usually because they deal with the most damaging, and damaged, young men, all argue that you cannot separate out the problems of masculinity from the problems of society. Despite some conflicting tendencies and increasing diversity in men's lives, they paint a picture in which most men today are less secure in both their jobs and their families, and are likely to remain so, with unemployed men having the least secure emotional ties with either partners or children. The general prescription they offer is not only state-sponsored social investment in job creation, but genuine public encouragement in government policies, schools and youth work, for boys and men to become more involved in both domestic life and caring work. Of course, they recognize that the market-driven priorities of most Western governments at present have the opposite effect, encouraging longer hours at work, in an ever more competitive milieu. But this only makes the challenging of conventional gender cultures, and the revaluing of much that is understood and precariously enacted in the presumptively feminine domain, all the more urgent.\n\n## _Deconstructing Gender_\n\nSocial policies aimed at creating material opportunities for disadvantaged men would help alleviate some of the more destructive patterns of failure, violence and high-risk behaviour tied in with inequalities and differences between men. But without undermining the wider ramifications of gender as a cultural system, men will continue to displace their fears about themselves into contempt for women, and to express antipathy towards other men more excluded and subordinated than their own peers. We will never begin to understand what is at stake here, either for men or for women, without attention to projects which some would like to dismiss as the 'merely' cultural. For men to be able to accept their own multiple and conflicted identities, they need to be able to question and complicate the notion of 'masculinity' itself \u2013 all the meanings currently attached to sexual difference and gender identity which cluster around men as the dominant\/active\/powerful sex.\n\nThe writing on 'masculinity' most explicitly committed to the project of exposing the coercively constructed nature of sexual difference and gender binaries comes from texts influenced by deconstructive and Foucauldian scholarship. Their theorizing of 'gender' in terms of the discourses which position it in language eschews all universalizing or essentializing categories. Here 'masculinity', like its subordinated term 'femininity' (the two existing only in hierarchically imposed opposition to each other), can only ever be an anxiously claimed identity, one tied to linguistic and materialist practices that are never fixed or secure. Gender, at least in Western iconography, has for at least two centuries been conjoined with discourses of sexual desire which (as discussed in chapter 2) are construed in terms of heterosexual normativity positioning 'masculine' and 'feminine' desire as ineluctably 'active' and 'passive' encounter, respectively.\n\nIllustrating the analysis of 'masculinity' as a powerful, regulatory fiction \u2013 always haunted by what it attempts to exclude \u2013 the cultural theorist Homi Bhabha begins his evocative essay 'Are You a Man or a Mouse?' with the claim that: 'To speak of masculinity in general, sui generis, must be avoided at all costs'. As a discourse of 'self-generation', he continues, we need not so much to deny or disavow 'masculinity', as to 'draw attention to its prosthetic reality', to show how its claims to superiority are always grounded in contradiction, conflict and anxiety. Speaking personally, he adds: 'My own masculinity is strangely separated from me, turning into my shadow, the place of my filiation and my fading. My attempt to conceptualize its conditionality becomes a place to question it'. Bhabha also highlights how discourses of dominant 'masculinity' intertwine not only with discourses of heterosexuality, but also with those of nationality and race.\n\nMuch along these lines, Robert Reid-Pharr ruefully surveyed the success of the Million Man March in Washington in 1995, reflecting on how the image of an 'all-powerful masculinity was [being] offered as the solution to, and compensation for' the stark curtailments of resources and opportunities currently affecting so many in the USA. Mirroring Daniel Moynihan's scapegoating of black women a generation earlier, the dangers of such attempts at therapeutic reaffirmation of masculinity should be obvious: diverting attention from the pernicious racism that still, perhaps increasingly, dominates life in the USA, and damages black men in particular. Reid-Pharr concludes his analysis, wanting to replace such traditional patriarchal exhortations with his own alternative yearnings for 'a public dialogue and a civic life that celebrates multiplicity, that prizes ambiguity, and thereby recognizes the play of identity and difference that makes possible community as well as change'.\n\n## _Subjectivity and Change_\n\nCalling for the expansion of 'civic life' and 'community' to include and celebrate the lives of all people, however, takes us well beyond the theorizing of 'masculinity' simply as a discursive formation. The latter tends to have only the most tenuous grasp on gender relations and routines within the social institutions and organizations serving to maintain (or occasionally fracture) gender hierarchies. As we saw in chapter 2, 'gender' as an analytical category does indeed provide a set of discourses and available symbols, but it operates at multiple levels which require knowledge of diverse social structures and normative frameworks for the enacting of subjective identities, within which the singular details of particular life histories unfold. As some male gender theorists strongly committed to gender justice have argued for some time now, it is broader social forces, and political campaigns encouraging sexual and social equality, which provide the necessary background for the success of any programme for the individual reform of self-destructive and oppressive forms of masculinity.\n\nOne such campaign came from collectively organized gay subcultures, especially after the impact of HIV\/AIDS on politicized gay men in Western societies. It is these men who have probably done most to connect recent theoretical debates on the precarious nature of 'masculinity' with a sexual politics which works to undermine and challenge traditional masculinity. They analysed and fought the tenacious fear of gay men's sexuality (seen as symbolizing the 'receptive' or 'passive' male bodily encounters), while promoting attitudes of sexual responsibility and care ('safer sex') in men's sexual practices, so alien to many other men's carelessness, if not coercion, in sexual exchanges, whether with women or with men. They campaigned for increased public support for people living with HIV, while also exemplifying men's enduring and selfless potential to love, nurture and sustain the sick and the dying. Finally, and perhaps most inspiring of all, some gay men developed a vernacular for expressing and sharing their own terrifying fears and grief, confused impotence and rage, aching pain and continuing capacity for pleasure and love, in ways which are both cathartic and empowering for themselves and, especially, for others, in the extraordinary literature, poetry and artworks relating to AIDS. There are clearly many different ways of attempting to reform or refashion 'masculinity' in a manner less oppressive to women and, indeed, to many men themselves. However, it is only when men no longer occupy the elite levels of social power that 'masculinity' will finally shed its traditional symbolic trappings. Until then 'masculinity' will continue \u2013 as it always has \u2013 to haunt most men with fears of impotence and failure, even as it motivates some of them to threaten and seek to control women.\n\nAs discussed above, it was feminist psychologists who began the work of investigating the cultural dynamics of gender as they impact upon the lives of women, moving well beyond the individualistic frameworks of traditional psychology. Their point of departure was to address the role of normative notions of 'femininity' and gender hierarchy in the lifelines of girls and women, while paying somewhat less attention to the ambiguities and contextual changes in women's experiences and behaviours (and even less to the conflicts and contradictions in the lives of men). This would encourage other psychologists, often men in sympathy with feminism and sometimes feminist psychologists themselves, to address the increasing evidence of boys' and men's suffering and anxieties, illustrating the high costs of gender conformity, at least for some men. However, any single focus on gender identity can also mislead. Perceptions like that of 'masculinity in crisis', I have argued, conveniently obliterate a constellation in which almost every other social difference is of greater significance than gender _alone_ in throwing light upon the situation of those particular groups of men who are suffering most today.\n\nHowever utopian or pessimistic any feminist goal of dismantling the foundations of men's privileged place in the gender system, those of us who wish to know how gender operates will need to see its multiple and conflictual layers and meanings: its location at the social and symbolic level may well be at odds with its frequently anxious negotiation at the individual or interpersonal level. Few approaches have had more to say on this than that of psychoanalysis: the movement which, like feminism itself, was as defining an influence on people's perceptions of their own lives (both waking and sleeping) as on public and political discourse throughout the twentieth century.\n\n# 6  \nCautionary Tales: Between Freud and Feminism\n\n> I always find it uncanny when I can't understand someone in terms of myself.\n> \n> Sigmund Freud, _letter to Martha Bernays_\n\n'In the face of claims of its widely announced demise, psychoanalysis has never been more recognized in British intellectual life', the editorial of one of Britain's journals of cultural theory announced provocatively in the mid-1990s. Ironically, it is feminist scholarship which has inspired much of the writing on which this judgement is based \u2013 ironic because, only a few decades earlier, feminists had singled out Freud as their cardinal enemy, especially in the USA. As Juliet Mitchell recalls, 'there were calendars produced by the women's movement with dartboards over the head of Freud and a bull's eye dart through his eye'.\n\nEnthusiasm for psychoanalysis, shadowed by bitter denunciation, has engrossed feminist thought from the time of the inception of these two key movements of modernity, over a century ago. Mari Jo Buhle's recent overview of the complex entanglement of the two formations is particularly illuminating. The feminist and free-lover Emma Goldman sat enthusiastically in the audience when Freud first took psychoanalysis to America in 1909, speedily affirming its affinity with feminism and declaring Freud, whom she understood as attacking hypocrisy and being in favour of women's sexual emancipation, 'a giant among pygmies'. But her contemporary Charlotte Perkins Gilman rejected the growing women's interest in the new politics of selfhood \u2013 sexuality and maternity \u2013 wishing to refocus their attention on material conditions and employment. Such ambivalence has always been mutual, each side taking its turn to cherish or deride the other. Many powerful women could be found in the ranks of psychoanalysis, one of the earliest professions to welcome women, some of whom would very quickly make lasting theoretical innovations and provide its dominant figures \u2013 especially during and after the 1920s. Yet their male mentors, from Freud to Lacan, seemed to delight in teasing women who pursued equality with men, an equality they believed feminists would never manage to achieve.\n\nIn contrast to feminist scholarship, academic psychology has maintained a more durable disdain for its nearest rival, psychoanalysis, and thus remained outside the lasting encounter between feminism and psychoanalysis. To the lifelong chagrin of most psychologists, especially the best known, like Hans Eysenck in Britain, Freud's legacy has proved indestructible throughout the twentieth century. Eysenck would die still wondering how Freud had managed to hoodwink the popular imagination with his theory of the lasting significance of familial childhood experience for adult desires and discontents: 'recent genetic research', he wrote shortly before his death, 'has shown that environmental factors linked to the family have little influence on personality'. His own strict methodological regimes, tirelessly measuring people's responses to the questionnaires which produce conclusions like this (with their dubious relationship to actual 'genetic research'), have had comparatively less cultural impact, despite the growing phalanx of psychologists currently waging war on the significance of early childhood experience in the family.\n\nAs discussed in the previous chapter, psychology's disciplinary project has been predominantly one of measuring and theorizing individual differences in behaviour. Its optimistic emphasis on the development of technologies for behavioural or cognitive change popularized the idea that social problems are amenable to individual solution through the acquisition of skills and enlightenment. Thus it has been psychology's task, as Derrida (glossing Foucault) has commented, to _mask_ in the modern world 'a certain truth of madness... a certain truth of unreason'. The opposite is true of psychoanalysis. At least, in its classical form, it promises not solutions to social conflicts but a heightened awareness of their tragic inevitability. Far gloomier in social outlook, far more cautious in its expectations of change, its sombre vision has been one reason for its more contentious place in cultural debate.\n\n## _Opening Skirmishes_\n\nTraditionally, psychoanalysis has preferred to flaunt, rather than to disavow, the conservative side of its reflections on the links between subjectivity and the 'maladies' of modernity. Its pessimism of the intellect produces its own paralyses for those who wish to transform the relations it describes (and helps reinscribe) between sexed identity and gender hierarchy. But it is the inescapable significance of these links which continually recharges the dialogue between feminism and psychoanalysis, fuelled by their shared belief in the subjective and cultural centrality of ideas of sexual difference. This is the terrain, perhaps unfortunately, on which we encounter the battles between the two, and which I cover here. I say 'unfortunately', because it is in this area that psychoanalysis often moves farthest from what some of us see as its central strength: its potentially subversive account of psychological development, with its theories of subjectivity as always unstable and conflicting, diverse and disorderly. Instability is surely what we should expect when Freud saw subjectivity (or character) as formed through identifications with those we have loved and hated; in the beginning, those we loved as a child.\n\nYet the narratives grounding psychoanalytic theories of sexual difference have looked far from subversive to many feminists. Surveying the fractious relations between psychoanalysis and feminism, the British cultural critic Rachel Bowlby concluded: 'The one constant seems to be that neither side ever lets go: even when apart... they [are] always somewhere... on each other's mind'. When not damning Freud and his followers for inciting men to label women's search for independence a symptom of neurosis (as Betty Friedan and Germaine Greer have done), or cursing him for condoning \u2013 if not encouraging \u2013 men's sexual aggression and making child sexual abuse 'the best kept secret in the world' (as Susan Brownmiller and Florence Rush have accused), feminists were turning to his texts for theoretical inspiration.\n\nWhy? Why should there be this dogged return to a legacy so troubled and so troubling? 'What _is_ the attraction to psychoanalysis?', as Juliet Mitchell asked again, (apparently perplexed, as she surveyed the packed hall of expectant feminists who had turned up in 1994 to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of her book _Psychoanalysis and Feminism._ Her own answer, the one which first motivated her writing, was a belief in the _'political_ need' for psychoanalysis: it alone could explain the global tenacity of male domination, or patriarchy, and the difficulties feminists encountered in their political struggles for equality, with its account of the unconscious construction of sexual difference. Yet, as Mitchell and other feminists would hasten to add, the deeper attraction of psychoanalysis was that while, on the one hand, it seemed to explain why it was that sexual difference should appear to be such an immutable and absolute difference (more entrenched than any other social division), it could equally be used to challenge any proclaimed certainties, any normative theorizing, about what it means to be a 'woman' or a 'man'. Its enlightening presumption of the inevitable tensions, uncertainties and ambivalences at the heart of sexual difference and gender identity \u2013 which linger on, long after we outgrow the polymorphous, bisexual pleasures of infancy \u2013 was what made it possible, many feminists have felt, to wed psychoanalysis to feminism, however embittered the coupling might sometimes become: 'The radical potential in their marriage', as Jane Gallop wrote in 1982, 'is not a mystical fusion obliterating all difference and conflict, but a provocative contact which opens each to what is not encompassed by the limits of its identity'.\n\nLooked at more closely, however, this is still puzzling. For if what we are supposed to take from psychoanalysis is the inevitability of instability and complexity in the area of sexuality and sexual difference, challenging their naturalistic reduction to reproductive or gender norms, why has Freud's legacy so often been appropriated by those most dedicated to conservative moralizing about sexual difference, and women's place in the world, at least since the 1930s? It is not just Freud himself who moved towards incoherence when trying to solve dilemmas around sexual difference: repeatedly observing the worthlessness of equating 'masculinity' with 'activity' and 'femininity' with 'passivity', while immediately proceeding to reinstate the 'great antithesis' between 'masculinity' and 'femininity' as the 'bedrock' of the human psyche, _in just those terms_.\n\nFreud portrayed 'femininity' as it is culturally represented, and thus to some degree psychically stabilized; that is, through a defensive logic grounded in men's anxieties about their own 'masculinity'. From early childhood onwards, as Norman Mailer once summed things up for his sex: 'Being a man is the continuing battle of one's life'. Given, of course, 'one' is a man. For a woman, especially a feminist, the battle is somewhat different: to escape from both cultural and psychic investments in notions of 'castrated' or passive womanhood, which bolster fictions of 'phallic' masculinity. And it is here that psychoanalytic reflections have often proved less than useful in suggesting any routes for escape; indeed, not infrequently, they have treated any such attempt with derision.\n\nYet, it is true that against both biological and behaviouristic explanations of more straightforward pathways to gender identity, only psychoanalytic discourses seem to explain the continual _failure_ of individual psychic realities consistently to reflect the apparent certainties of social realities, exposing the inevitable incommensurability of the two. They also warn us of the unpredictable, often dangerous force of men's investment in the phallic lack projected onto female bodies: man has it _only_ insofar as woman lacks it. Freud, sadly, did not invent the idea of the phallus as a symbol of power and desire in language and consciousness (although he did not put it quite like that). Nor did he invent the dread and repudiation of 'femininity' in his patients and in himself. That is why feminists like me live with the paradox of wanting to assert psychoanalytic arguments, while also wanting to challenge them, aware that the convergence between unconscious fantasy and cultural understandings of sexual difference are always threatened and precarious. However, the rub is that feminist deployment of psychoanalytic discourses often ties itself in slipknots, securing rather than loosening the bonds which confine women in phallic fictions of sexual difference. We frequently find just such questioning of gender certainties immediately subdued by assertion of the 'absolute' nature of sexual difference in human subjectivity and social relations. Indeed, it is this grounding of sexual difference as the single overriding difference, side-lining all other psychic complexities and other social divisions (most obviously, of class and race) which has drawn most feminists to psychoanalysis in the first place.\n\n## _Imagining the Void_\n\nFor all their disagreements, this is what unites the two main trajectories of psychoanalytic feminism: Lacanianism and object-relations theory. The irony is that neither Lacan and his interpreters (analysing the alienated and illusory dynamics of subjectivity) nor the object-relations school (stressing the significance of pre-Oedipal attachment), were originally primarily concerned with questions of sexual difference at all. The Lacanian tradition, particularly in Britain and the USA, has been far more influential in theoretical debate and cultural analysis than in therapeutic practice. Indeed, Lacan (and his direct heir and amanuensis, Jacques-Alain Miller) systematically posed their own 'scientific', putatively logico-mathematical, abstractions against clinicians 'impure', humanistic discourses. And strange as it may seem in this new golden age of capitalist global supremacy, it was in the attempt to build a bridge to Marxism that feminists first sought to incorporate the ideas of Lacan, most notably Juliet Mitchell. For here the social order (seen as capitalist patriarchy) comes to constitute the individual through the acquisition of language \u2013 allowing no real boundary between the self and society, between the private or personal and the public or political.\n\nHowever, the popularity of Lacan in feminist theory since the late 1970s has proved the most acutely paradoxical of all of feminism's flirtations with psychoanalysis. Although he was publicly scornful of social strategies for undermining or transforming existing structures of sexual difference as 'culturalist' deviation (insofar as they were treating phallic primacy as a secondary formation), Lacan has nevertheless appeared to many feminists to offer the only way to rescue Freud from _biologistic_ phallocentrism \u2013 albeit at the price of acknowledging the intransigence of linguistic phallocentrism. He was uniquely influential in the late 1970s and early 1980s in inspiring now prominent feminist theoreticians, especially those engaged in literary and film studies, to hunt down the ubiquitous presence of phallic discourses and imagery, observing how they function as a fundamental area of oppression, internalized by women. However, it was a pursuit which others would sometimes come to see as ultimately self-defeating for feminist attempts to overturn phallocentrism, since for Lacan, 'strictly speaking, there can be no symbolization of the female _sexe;_ the female _sexe_ has the character of an absence, a void, a hole'.\n\nThe theorizing of Lacanian feminists who did revolt against Lacan's uniquely fatalistic phallicism, while staying within his theoretical framework, was to prove just as controversial. From the outrageous antics of Antoinette Fouque and her followers (who attempted to hijack the French 'Women's Movement' by obtaining an exclusive legal patent to use the term \u2013 a practice they continue to this day), to Luce Irigaray and H\u00e9l\u00e8ne Cixous, they have sought to subvert phallic law by affirming and expressing its 'unknowable', 'ineffable', 'excessive', defiantly 'feminine' Other. With a parallel, but somewhat distinct rhetoric and goal, Julia Kristeva would attempt to analyse the pre-Oedipal semiotic space of mother-infant communication. In the process, each encouraged attacks on the limitations of so-called 'equal-rights' feminism (a term which would come to include, and thereby excise, 'socialist feminism') \u2013 when not, like the formidable Fouque herself, attempting to bury it as a betrayal of women, having learned from Lacan 'not to yield to the feminist illusion'. We still suffer the fall-out from the particularly tedious and largely misleading polarization between 'equality' and 'difference' thrown up by this brand of French feminism, in timely harmony with North American 'cultural feminism'. More generally, and despite its very real strengths in encouraging greater awareness of the significant role of language and representation in the oppression of women, it seems to me that many of the feminist pirouettes on the Lacanian stage have served more to exhaust than invigorate radical theorizing \u2013 especially when they aim to taunt, while actually deferring to, the spirit of their master.\n\nThe point is this: if feminists believe Lacan, there are no intelligible strategies for overthrowing gender hierarchy. His theorizing is monolithic and ahistorical: 'no sexual revolution will shift these lines of division', the true Lacanian acolyte Eugenie Lemoine-Luccioni insists. In Lacanian space we are devoid of any autonomy, constituted through a language coextensive with sexual difference in the phallic order of the Symbolic. Here, the 'phallus' refers neither to a real organ, nor to an imaginary object invested with power, but rather to _the_ transcendental signifier (signifier of 'power and the advent of desire'), which is unaffected by shifts in social practices and relations across time, place and milieu, not to mention the idiosyncrasies of personal biography within which bodily encounters become so powerfully invested with meaning. Despite a multitude of teasingly asserted (and immediately rejected) speculations on the signifying chain linking the phallus to the veiled or fetishized male bodily organ, the penis, all that we ever learn for certain about this 'master signifier' and its privileged role is its functioning as the paternal metaphor which (following the structuralist methodology of Claude L\u00e9vi-Strauss) receives its place in the symbolic order in the 'name-of-the-Father'. The phallus is the power which, supposedly across all cultural domains and from the dawn of history, has identified the Father with the figure of the law, and hence conferred on men (and only men) the right to exchange women, operating as the third term which comes between mother and child: 'the phallus forbids the child the satisfaction of his or her own desire, which is the desire to be the exclusive desire of the mother'. The phallus, as a condition of discourse, constitutes women in terms of lack, and men in terms of the threat of lack, as the latter collectively struggle to identify with the _illusion_ of the father's imaginary potency.\n\n'Woman' is constituted in terms of lack, Lacan asserts, yet there is something which she experiences beyond lack: a feminine _jouissance_ or sexual satisfaction unique to her, _outside_ symbolization and intelligibility. It is this which has inspired H\u00e9l\u00e8ne Cixous and Luce Irigaray to embark upon their quest to inscribe the feminine by attempting to express the female 'imaginary' in texts characterized by playful excess, disruption, grammatical and syntactic subversion and other ambiguous games within the 'masculine' symbolic order. Irigaray has been perhaps the most influential: her search for an alternative to the 'One sex' economy of phallogocentrism has delighted her admirers with its enigmatic, poetic and allusive images of women's sexuality and the 'maternal' imaginary (the left-over or excess residue of maternal desire), seen as defying the limits of the 'paternal' Symbolic. However, it is a strange search which, insofar as it accepts the Lacanian Symbolic, must embrace both contradiction and incoherence in representing the supposedly unrepresentable. It has mystified other feminists seeking more political coherence and direction, or wary of its apparent celebration of women's traditional coding in terms of motherhood. As the male Lacanian Slavoj \u017di\u017eek declared recently (in criticism of some of his female rivals), the kernel that attempts to resist phallic authority (which we can, if we wish, call the 'feminine') is not a positive one: 'it can be defined only in terms of a certain impossibility, a deadlock, in purely negative ways'. More significantly, critics like Catherine Clement have questioned the belief that preserving women's positions as outsiders to the 'masculine' symbolic could significantly change, rather than help consolidate, a social system which marginalizes women.\n\nIn my opinion, the Lacanian trajectory does construct deadlock for feminism: the wish to overthrow phallocentrism (here seen as generated in the realm of the Imaginary) is necessarily reclaimed and thwarted by the timeless Symbolic. We see the impasse, for example, in the tensions within the work of one influential North American philosopher who, while actively engaged in both important feminist critique and politics, nevertheless pushes us into a tailspin by holding onto Lacan's Symbolic order. In _Beyond Accommodation_ Drucilla Cornell draws on Irigaray's notion of mimesis (imitating, affirming, performing 'the feminine') to declare it 'our only strategy' for subverting phallocentric culture: _'mimesis',_ she writes, 'tells us how to re-evolve with the definition of the feminine'. As she has more recently asserted, feminists 'must' fight the erasure of 'the feminine'. But the only way to do this, she warns women, is to 'make yourselves truly unreadable in terms of gender categories... the more unreadable you become, the better'. She admits that this is a long and arduous process, offering the caution, for good measure, that you never 'know for sure when you're doing it and when you're not!' Symptomatic of trying to make one's feminism compatible with Lacan, this imperative to fight erasure through erasure is a difficult decree. And if the way to struggle against the erasure of the feminine is to attack the readability of the feminine, how then can you have a politics? For politics surely must be _communicable,_ and unreadability alone is, to put it mildly, quite a disadvantage.\n\nFeminism has always had to live with a central paradox: that of wanting to hold on to the category of 'woman', to attack the linguistic and wider social denigration of the 'feminine', while also wanting to deconstruct and critique these notions. But, the question is, are women quite so trapped within the prison house of phallogocentrism as French feminism has suggested? 'In what manner of double-speak must feminism proceed', Judith Butler asks of Lacanian psychoanalysis and some of its feminist formulations, 'when it is understood as the unrepresentable in its paradoxical effort to represent itself?' More significantly, she continues: 'Is this structure of feminine repudiation not _reinforced_ by the very theory which claims that the structure is somehow prior to any given social organization, and as such resists social transformation?' As Juliet Flower MacCannell has commented, 'by and large, the most elaborated counter-theories of language from feminism still play off the Lacanian insights, rather than seeking alternative theories'. Some feminists who defend the Lacanian symbolic, such as Jacqueline Rose, like to point out that it cannot be seen as fixed because it is always 'the site of its own failing' (that is, its rupture by the unknowable 'real'), yet this hardly advances matters when the structure remains exactly the same: the lack remains the phallic lack, it is always the same failure within the same space which is being highlighted.\n\nAs I see it, we must take issue with the philosophical premises of Lacanian psychoanalysis, without denying the social fact of phallic privilege in language and representation and hence the difficulty of affirming the 'feminine'. We can dispute Lacan's two basic principles: first, that non-psychotic subjectivity is constructed solely in and through language; second, that the 'phallus' as paternal metaphor and symbol of male power is coextensive with the emergence of language \u2013 that it has a transcendental primacy, rather than a historically constructed one. We can accept the _historical_ primacy given to the 'phallus' as symbol of male power in language (and the related notion of the fantasy of 'castration' imposing a narcissistic 'wound' on the female body even as it orchestrates fear around the male body), while at the same time questioning \u2013 rather than insistently reproducing \u2013 its singular primacy in the Symbolic. Indeed the Saussurean linguistics Lacan draws upon gives no signifier any absolute privilege outside particular discourses: 'Unlike the phallus a signifier [in Saussurean linguistics] has no value in and of itself. No signifier can be privileged over any other signifier'. Lacan's law, that there can be no representation except through the phallus and the acceptance of castration, is thus internal to his own theory, _not_ any rule of access to language.\n\nMoving decisively away from Lacan, the French psychoanalyst Jean Laplanche rejects the thesis that there is no extra discursive basis to psychic reality, arguing, in a way that makes a lot of sense to me, that the unconscious is _not_ structured as a language, but rather consists of a disordered and conflictual array of enigmatic sexual messages derived from the verbal, non-verbal and behavioural investments which the child receives from the parents in the process of care. As John Fletcher has recently elaborated, Laplanche posits a primordial _passivity_ for both sexes in relation to sexuality, a sexuality which arises out of the penetrations and fantasies of the other (this time with a little 'o') who excites the infant in the process of its gestures of parental care. There can be no phallic binarism in the unconscious, Laplanche has always argued, since there is no negation and opposites can coincide without contradiction there. For Laplanche, the Oedipus complex and castration anxiety are neither primordial nor universal, but rather secondary and contingent ways available to the ego for elaborating and binding the anxieties accompanying the intrusive sexual excitations (or routine 'seductions') of infancy: 'The phallic stage fetishising of penis and clitoris serve defensively to extinguish those dangerous libidinal openings to the other in both sexes'. The central point here, as Philippe Van Haute neatly summarizes, is that 'the unconscious is essentially individual: your enigmatic signifiers are not mine'. In contrast, in Lacan, the marginalization of issues other than sexual difference, and the reduction of that difference to phallic difference, stabilizes rather than contests the culturally established repudiation of women's (or men's) bodily experience, interactions and pleasures outside phallic imagery.\n\n## _Oedipal Dramas and the Crisis of Paternal Authority_\n\nLacanianism has exacerbated classic Freudianism's refusal to engage seriously with, or to criticize, the various male-dominated institutions of our culture which fuel 'castration anxiety' and the Oedipal narrative, creating the boy's fear and repudiation of a 'femininity' always already equated with subordination in favour of a 'masculinity' always already equated with power and authority. With the Lacanian gaze focused firmly beyond the individual, tracking down further support for its philosophical analysis of desire-as-lack, there is little interest in the particulars of specific conflicting desires, or the possible diversity of subject positions, meanings and experiences (now or in the future) corresponding to the inevitable dissonance between tangible mothers and fathers in individual life histories in comparison with the powerful, wordly Father and archaic engulfing Mother of patriarchal (Oedipal) myth. It is this which, as David Macey comments, produces such 'a curiously asexual (and affectless) psychoanalysis', when what we need for the understanding of concrete subjectivity is 'a very specific analysis of conflicting desires and power'.\n\nIn reality, as others have now spelt out, the Oedipal drama is one with at least _five_ rather than three protagonists (however unevenly weighted the parts): the child with its real-life mother and father, alongside the Imaginary Father and the Imaginary Mother, to which the actual mother, actual father, or, rather, actual third term (ie the husband, or other intimate adult companion of the mother, who may well be a woman), never fully corresponds. Moreover, as those who have reflected upon the cultural basis of Oedipal theory sometimes suggest, it is possible to use Freud's notion of _Nachtr\u00e4glichkeit_ ('deferred action' or 'retrodetermination') to argue that the polarizing representation of father\/phallus\/masculinity as all-powerful does not arise all of a piece in the Oedipal experiences of late infancy, to inscribe phallic order and authority irrevocably as the sole means of distributing sexual positions. Rather, awareness of male domination seeps into experience and reinscribes it, again and again, reordering the experiences of childhood. Possible disruptions of the Oedipal narrative are only negated when the tale is fixed for all time in the Symbolic.\n\nDuring the 1980s Anglo-American feminists who wanted to move on from the theoretical limitations and intensifying political squabbles of the preceding decade's feminism that privileged notions of 'oppression' understood in terms of direct 'experience' often turned to French psychoanalytic feminism. Today, those feminists who are producing the most interesting analyses, especially in the area of sexuality, are the ones who are no longer taking Lacan as their point of departure, if they ever did. These theorists accept that it is psychical and social relations, not anatomies, which give the body its meanings, and that these meanings are mediated through existing phallocentric images and discourses. But they do not believe they are fully constituted by them. The anthropologist Gayle Rubin, who was one of the first to introduce Lacan's ideas to the USA in her classic essay 'The Traffic in Women' (1974), always argued against universalizing the L\u00e9vi-Straussian notion of kinship with which Lacan established the fixity of his Symbolic order. Today she strengthens this critique of Lacanian 'grandiosity' in presuming to advance _the_ theory of sexual difference:\n\n> I didn't want to get stuck in the Lacanian trap. It seemed to me, with all due respect to those very skilled at evading or manipulating the snares, that Lacan's work came with a dangerous tendency to create a kind of deep pit from which it would be hard to escape....I was concerned with the totalizing tendencies in Lacan, and the non-social qualities of the symbolic.... One of the nifty things about psychoanalytic approaches is that they explain both change and intractability. But there is something about the particular intractability of what is called the symbolic that I don't understand.... There is something intrinsically problematic about any notion that somehow language itself or the capacity for acquiring it requires sexual differentiation as primary differentiation.\n\nSimilarly, Teresa de Lauretis has for some time criticized feminist theorizing of subjectivity which adopts a conceptual framework of 'universal sexual opposition', rather than seeing the subject as constituted 'across languages and cultural representation; a subject engendered in the experience of race and class, as well as sexual relations; a subject, therefore, not unified but rather multiple, and not so much divided as contradicted'. (In 1994, however, de Lauretis did return, rather unsuccessfully in my view, to a critical reworking of the Lacanian symbolic, attempting to develop a formal model of 'perverse desire' in her book _The Practice of Love.)_ More hesitantly, Judith Butler criticizes the static Lacanian foundation for the subject's entry into language, suggesting that we should consider 'the conditions and limits of representation and representability as open to significant rearticulations and transformations under the pressure of social practices of various kinds'. Even Elizabeth Grosz, once a foremost feminist exponent of Lacan, suggests that perhaps 'now is the time to rethink' the value of a discourse of desire which fails to 'account for, to explain, or to acknowledge the existence of an active and explicitly female desire, and, more particularly, the active and sexual female desire for other women that defines lesbianism'.\n\nThis is certainly an advance on the earlier influential but constraining conclusions of British Lacanian feminists like Juliet Mitchell and Jacqueline Rose who seemed to feel, at least in the early 1980s, that for feminists to make the attempt to understand Lacan's exposition (no small enterprise, admittedly) of how 'the status of the phallus in human sexuality enjoins on the woman a definition in which she is simultaneously symptom and myth' was to go about as far as you could go. Since then, without abandoning Lacan, both have moved closer to Klein and a richer engagement with clinical issues, while Rose has herself highlighted the impasse in debates between feminists who defend, and those who contest, the Lacanian phallocentric account of feminine sexuality. She still sees no way beyond it, however. The irony is that two decades before Lacan elaborated his notion of the phallus in the late 1950s, he was already aware of the historically specific nature of the patriarchal family generating the development of Freud's classic Oedipal formation. As Mikkel Borch-Jacobsen argued in 1994, commenting upon Lacan's article 'Family Complexes in the Formation of the Individual' (1938), the Lacan of the 1930s was anxiously lamenting the threat to paternal power and authority posed by modern conceptions of marriage as a partnership of equals. He described modern family forms as fostering the 'social decline of the paternal imago' and 'a narcissistic debasement of the idealization of the father' resulting in a general crisis of identification.\n\nDespite Lacan's critical disclosure of the place of sexual difference in the structure of language, and of the significance of language in the formation of subjectivity and intelligibility, his account of the Symbolic can be seen as characteristic of many moves in psychoanalytic theorizing which attempt to shore up the inevitability of patriarchal authority as a fundamental structure of human desire. It thereby becomes as much a necessity in modern (or future) societies, as in traditionally patriarchal ones. Peter Dews points to parallels here between the worries of the young Lacan of the 1930s and the contemporary fears of Max Horkheimer and the early Frankfurt School over the weakening of men's autonomy through declining paternal authority.\n\nThe point to note is the extent to which fears over the shake-up of the gender order, characteristic of modernity, have served as the central motor of conservatism in psychoanalytic theorizing. Even Dews, a critical theorist of the left, chides Borch-Jacobsen for what he sees as his 'insouciant' conclusion that it is time to stop treating the Oedipus complex as a _'problem'_ , and to accept the changes which have occurred in our societies, which are now: _'defined_ by a general crisis of symbolic identifications \u2013 \"deficiency of the paternal function\", \"foreclosure of the name of the father\", perpetual questioning of the symbolic \"law\" and \"pact\", confusion of lineage and general competition of generations, battle of the sexes, and loss of family landmarks'. Meanwhile, the idea that _only_ the father, paternal imago or phallic signifier can interrupt the infant's early fusion with the mother, and hence rescue the individual from degenerative fixation at the level of infantile narcissistic omnipotence (and potential lawless thuggery) remains, with only a few significant exceptions, a key conservative trope of the psychoanalytic imagination, often even in its ostensibly most radical forms. \u017di\u017eek testifies to its undiminished prevalence when, reminiscent of both Horkheimer and the early Lacan, he comments: 'These Foucauldian practices of inventing new strategies, new identities [for undermining sexual difference], are ways of playing the late capitalist game of subjectivity', a game which produces 'multiple identities, nonidentity and cynical distance'. Phallocentrism, \u017di\u017eek declares, 'is not the enemy today'. (Not whose enemy?, one might well ask.) Rather it is the decline of this 'patriarchal-identitarian' dynamic which is the weapon of late capitalism for undermining resistance to it. What is more, such belief in the threat presumptively posed by the weakening of paternal authority and the phallic construction of sexual difference is by no means restricted to Lacanian psychoanalysis, nor to the male psychoanalytic voice. Quite the contrary, as we shall see.\n\n## _The First Bond and its Consequences_\n\nHowever, before returning to this issue, it is important to acknowledge that feminist object-relations theory set out precisely to reject any such emphasis on the importance of paternal authority and the Oedipal moment. It drew upon Melanie Klein and, in particular, the writings of the Independents of the British School of Psychoanalysis, Donald Winnicott, Ronald Fairbairn, Michael Balint and Harry Guntrip, to focus almost entirely on the mother-child relationship. In total contrast to Lacanian perspectives, their theorizing is about drawing attention to actual mothers and fathers (but mainly to mothers and mothering) and their place within prevailing structures and social relations of male dominance. But here, at least for quite a while, we encountered a mirror image of Lacanian reductionism: rather than ignoring the historic social and cultural production of gender categories, the psychic is collapsed back into the social relations of gender, with little space for any more complex exchange between the two. Feminist object-relations theory has played down the significance of symbolic phallocentrism, castration anxiety and penis envy, refocusing upon pre-Oedipal attachments or mother-infant bonding.\n\nHere female experience is bound up with mother-daughter ties, as in Nancy Chodorow's now classic text _The Reproduction of Mothering_ (1978), with its somewhat idealized account of the mutual identification between mother and daughter in contrast with the other-directed love between mother and son. It is the fact that it is _women_ who mother that secures the 'femininity' of girls in the form of nurturing and expressive capacities, which differ markedly from what becomes the emphasis on autonomy and firm boundaries of boys, although accompanying a less secure sense of 'masculinity'. For each sex there is a direct continuity between the self and the social environment, with neither the anguish and loss, on the one hand, nor the threat of annihilation and engulfment, on the other, seeming to play such a significant part in the experience of the child around the necessity for separation from the mother. This type of feminist object-relations theory is therefore at odds with most other psychoanalytic writing on the psychic life of the child. Furthermore, it loses its grip on what seemed to be the strength of classic pychoanalytic accounts of sexual difference: their stress on the unstable nature of sexed identity, and its uncomfortable failure to conform to social expectations.\n\nThe tight circuit of social determinism in this particular feminist account of the polarizing effects of the institution of mothering thus fixes identity all too smoothly along normative gender lines, through a narrative which dismisses the language of lack and absence around which Lacanian feminism rotates. It is from this perspective, for example, that Ethel Person writes: 'Most theorists now believe that the developmental lines of gender precede those of sexuality, a complete reversal of Freud's original formulation'. Rejecting Freud's 'patriarchal bias', Person argues that her fellow New York analysts seem to agree that 'we must look to the early identifications with the idealized mother-ego ideal in order to understand the greater portion of the feminine personality organization'. We now face a different dilemma. Many saw a tragic truth, reflecting Freud's perception of the inevitable frustrations of the human condition, in the stoical cynicism of Lacan's account of the necessary illusions of love and the romantic heterosexual bond ('For what is love other than banging one's head against a wall, since there is no sexual relation?') In contrast, there is a blueprint for personal salvation (and a corresponding attribution of failure) in the writing of object-relations theorists who, like Otto Kernberg and Ethel Person, remain firm believers in the consummation of human happiness through 'mature' heterosexual bonding. In this respect they are reminiscent of mainstream psychology's faith in the pathways to individual fulfilment.\n\nHere, for instance, is Person writing lyrically on the sharing of each other's subjective reality in love: '[Love] denies the barriers separating us, offering hope for a concordance of two souls.... The experience of love can make time stop.... [It] may confer a sense of inner rightness, peace and richness.... [It is] a mode of transcendence... a religion for two'. Above all, it is a family affair: 'a stable deep object relation with a person of the opposite sex'. From this perspective, through Klein and Balint to Kernberg and Person, the reinforcement of familial conservatism and heterosexual normativity continues, in a way largely absent from Freud and certainly from Lacan. As the most clinically and theoretically powerful tradition of psychoanalysis in Britain, Klein's successors have been passionately criticized by psychotherapists campaigning against what they see as the institutionalized homophobia of their profession: the largely unacknowledged exclusion of gays and lesbians from analytic training and the pathologizing of homosexual desire. The cause of their anger can be found in the pejorative views of Hanna Segal, describing homosexuality as both an attack on the parental couple and a repudiation of reality: 'The child has to accept the reality of the parents as a couple, and the couple as a creative relationship because that is what produces the baby.... Any deviation from sexuality of that kind is an internal attack on the parents as a couple, and in that sense is not really a complete healthy development'. Balint had earlier decreed: 'without normal intercourse, there is no real contentment'. Such thoughts feed the scare-mongering of Charles Socarides, a psychoanalyst from the USA, whose message that homosexuality 'operates against the cohesive elements in society' is currently traversing the globe. He adds for good measure, 'the forces allied against heterosexuality are formidable and unrelenting'.\n\n## _Retrenchment versus Renewal?_\n\nThe challenge to such conservative deployment of psychoanalysis, which draws on Freud's own early essays on the origins of sexuality (with their focus on actual sexual bodies and their infinite capacity for sensual pleasure), has disappeared from many of the later appropriations of it. Whether abandoning the study of bodily pleasures to explore the symbolic reign of the fraudulent phallus or, distancing itself from polymorphous perversity for conventional narratives of the gender-differentiating effects of maternal attachments, the potential challenge of the infinite waywardness of infantile sexuality persisting to undermine, or at least trouble, the acquisition of sexual and gender normativity is cast aside even within many feminist versions of psychoanalysis, in both clinical and theoretical settings. This leaves them poorly equipped to confront the conservative appropriations of psychoanalysis which press it into the service of reactionary dogma. Such normative appropriations of psychoanalysis flow inevitably from any model of sexuality which focuses exclusively upon the workings of an ineluctably heterosexual nuclear family \u2013 whether this is reduced to a relation with the paternal Symbolic, or seen as a vehicle for the retrieval in sexual maturity of the cross-sexed 'object relations' of childhood.\n\nThe irony is, of course, that Freud himself suggested that 'libidinal attachments to persons of the same sex play no less a part as factors in normal mental life... than do similar attachments to the opposite sex.' It was he who laid the seeds for challenging the pathologization of what we now call 'transgressive' sexualities, and he who knew that we have reasons to problematize (but in a way he always failed to develop) the normative assumptions of heterosexuality. As case histories often reveal, a heterosexual may have a fully narcissistic relation to someone of the 'opposite sex'. Yet, it is in Freud's name, not despite it, that the widely read and routinely cited Janine Chasseguet-Smirgel draws her farcically reductive links between the psychic and the social: 'reality resides', she writes, 'in the differences of sex and generation' and, it would seem, in little else. For her, there are no other issues, no other narratives, on which we need to draw to explain either individual or global 'reality', however particular the historical context. National and international conflict, nuclear weapons, war and genocide, all become gruesome effects of failure to accept sexual difference, as we have been warned, repeatedly, by psychoanalysts throughout the twentieth century. It is a failure usually seen, in line with Chasseguet-Smirgel, as 'fed by too lax an attitude on the part of the parents, especially [of course] the mother'. And we learn, from the same source: 'The Nazi regime, the S.S. and Hitler himself, lacked the paternal dimension'. Here, non-heterosexual activity becomes a synonym for murder and genocide. Today's moral right and conservative left are listening, and endlessly reiterating the message of the dangers of 'fatherlessness'.\n\nIt is also by appealing to Freud's authority that many analysts recycle the linguistic equation 'acceptance of female bodies' with 'acceptance of castration'. This literature still often alludes to a woman's (usually a lesbian's) 'disavowal of castration into adulthood' that must lead her to 'distort [her] relationship with reality'. Such analytic disavowal of the fantasmatic nature of female 'castration' continues the coercive mappings of 'reality' in terms of phallic monism, often (as in Egl\u00e9 Laufer or Chasseguet-Smirgel) while also, oddly, claiming to reject it. Outside Oedipal theory and cultural phallicism, beyond psychoanalytic conservatism, women are not castrated. The reality is, of course, that a woman cannot be castrated \u2013 unlike a man.\n\nThe populist dissemination of psychoanalytic accounts of sexual difference can produce even stranger narratives in, for example, supposedly feminist-friendly psychotherapeutic texts by men addressing the 'crisis' of masculinity. One such, apparently following in the footsteps of object-relations perspectives, _Why Men Hate Women,_ by the British men's therapist Adam Jukes, is not atypical. In the beginning was Mother. And the troubled bond with Her leads inevitably to male domination and male sexual aggression. For Jukes, male dominance does not derive from language, culture or institutional arrangements, but has its source in the boy's universal experience of separation from the supposedly mutually symbiotic mother-infant dyad. It is this which produces a monolithic 'masculinity', in the form of rock-solid gender clich\u00e9: 'The bottom line', he writes, 'is that male abusiveness and violence, our power and control, are not negotiable currency'. He banishes any nuances of men's sexuality. He disavows the possibility that men could consciously yearn for passive envelopment and conquest. He cannot see that men's bodies, outside phallic fantasy, are 'soft', open to pleasurable entry or painful assault, and that they too are rapeable \u2013 not so unlike women.\n\nApart from wondering where he has been all these years, we could certainly object that, despite his own theoretical affiliations (and those of his publishers), Jukes is barely Freudian at all. When Freud provided his first and fullest description of 'masochism' in 'The Three Essays on Sexuality', equating it with passivity and the desire to be copulated with, he was referring to its existence not in women _but in men,_ despite labelling the experience 'truly female'. Freud also complained: 'At no other point in one's analytic work does one suffer more from an oppressive feeling that all one's repeated efforts have been in vain... than when one is seeking to convince a man that a passive attitude to men does not signify castration and that it is indispensable in many relationships of life'. But even he, little more than Jukes, could conceive a reality where men can, where men do, positively, as men, embrace passivity and receptivity in relations with women or men, since, on Freud's analysis of sexual difference, this turns a man into 'woman' \u2013 as surely as, for him, the lesbian turns into a 'man'.\n\n## _Sexual Difference versus Gender: Accepting Ambiguity_\n\nIn contrast with the rigidities which classical Oedipal theory generates, where only strict _acceptance_ of sexual difference can deliver either the individual or the world from chaos, confusion and terror, others have suggested more flexible psychoanalytic tales, where the acceptance of gender identity does not reduce to a single psychic mapping or moment. 'Man is not only phallic', the analyst Monique Schneider comments, 'I even think that he could not be tolerated as penetrating if he were not enveloping at the same time'. Significantly, however, she adds: 'Generally, psychoanalysis doesn't want to know anything about this enveloping power because it reactivates a sort of deep feminine and maternal identification'. Along these lines, Dana Breen closes her introduction to a reappraisal of psychoanalytic readings, _The Gender Conundrum,_ with the suggestion that 'psychobisexuality is increasingly understood to be fundamental not just for sexuality but for psychic integration and structuring more generally'. Most importantly, she stresses that we must recognize the role of feminine identification in male sexuality and masculine development. But I am still not satisfied with this formulation. First, many of the readings in her collection do _not_ reflect such a consensus at all; second, we are not getting to the heart of the problem. This is not so much the need to embrace 'psychobisexuality', as to find \u2013 indeed, to help to create \u2013 _a new object of knowledge:_ one which can move beyond the restrictive polarization of gendered identities reflected, but also rationalized, within Oedipal theory.\n\nThis new kind of knowledge would recognize \u2013 in a way classical Freudianism never could \u2013 the existence of adult female bodies as other than deformities of, or receptacles for, male bodies and the making of babies, tied in with practices of maternalism. It would be able to see the links currently existing between experiences of sexual difference, and their history of embeddedness in notions of oppositional heterosexuality and familial responsibilities, without collapsing the one into the other. Our relation to a sense of sexual difference, as our most personal sense of identity, operates at both conscious and unconscious levels \u2013 often at odds with itself. It is one which is suffused with, but does not reduce to, all the wider linguistic, structural, interpersonal and familial ramifications of gender conceptions and practices. There needs to be theoretical scope for the operation of diversity, at both the psychic and the cultural level, where rigid gender contrasts no longer rule.\n\nSome feminist psychoanalysts, many of them in New York, for example Jessica Benjamin, Muriel Dimen, Virginia Goldner and Adrienne Harris (who in 1996 helped found the journal _Gender and Psychoanalysis_ ), are now determined to move decisively beyond some of the older barriers which keep reinscribing traditional gender ideology. Benjamin, for example, draws upon the infancy research of Daniel Stern and Elsa First to argue that it is possible for the child (unlike the more typical French or British psychoanalyst) to encompass a doubleness or tension in psychic life whereby the unconscious fantasy of maternal omnipotence can and does exist alongside the capacity for pre-Oedipal intersubjectivity between mother and child. She also discusses the potential for 'post-Oedipal' constellations, when the cross-gender identifications of early life survive to surmount the rigidity of the 'positive' Oedipal (or same-sex) identification. Similarly, Goldner and Dimen both point out that the powerful, polarizing gender identifications made by the child are always confusing, and in danger of collapsing under the weight of their own contradictions. This means, as Goldner spells out as a goal for analytic treatment: 'the ability to tolerate the ambiguity and instability of gender categories is more appropriate than the goal of 'achieving' a single, pure, sex-appropriate view of oneself'. The acceptance of gender ambiguity and instability is here the goal for mental health.\n\nHowever, these are all theorists who have abandoned the belief in the Holy Trinity: the view that it is only via the intervention of the 'father', and the acceptance of sexual difference, that the infant can free itself 'from the helpless subjection to the omnipotent mother and enter the reality of the wider world'. They do not accept, as Juliet Mitchell sternly tried to remind them in an exchange a few years ago, that: 'Sexuality is the process that enables one to find the gendered other as different from oneself so that she or he can be used as other for the purpose of engendering'. They reject the idea that sexual sameness or difference is the sole marker of identity, and argue for a more flexible interaction between identificatory and object love: rejecting the Oedipal dictum that where one identifies one cannot desire; what one desires, one must disown in oneself. Benjamin, for example, suggests that gender dimorphism itself represents only one side of gendered positions, the other side being the polymorphism of the psyche.\n\nWe may not be able, and certainly not yet, to abandon gender as a central analytic category, or to ignore its symbolically charged meanings as the child moves between identification with and desire for those it loves and fears. But this does not mean that we can only ever position ourselves within an _oppositional_ gender _hierarchy:_ notions of sexual difference are not the only markers of identity and difference, despite their power in the continuing patriarchal symbolism of global male dominance. Our identities and sexualities are still formed within the shadow of (hetero\/sexual) phallic constructions, but there exists no eternal writ that they must always be so formed (whatever personal and social panic this currently induces, especially in men). The spectre which haunts the majestic phallus is its reduction to the ranks of the mutable penis. Theorists like Kaja Silverman argue that it is possible to see historical moments when 'the equation of the male organ with the phallus [can] no longer be sustained'. Seeing such moments, she suggests in _Male Subjectivity at the Margins,_ paves the way for 'a collective loss of belief in the whole of the dominant fiction'.\n\nIt suggests, perhaps, not so much the way as the possibility. From within phallocentric culture it is far from easy to hold a vision of transcending the hierarchical binary of sexual difference, to acknowledge the integrity of the female body or the fluctuating subtleties of the male body. My view is that feminism still needs psychoanalysis, as it provides the fullest account we have of the complex and contradictory nature of subjectivities formed through desire and identification. But feminist reappraisals could also suggest the possibility of moving beyond the single binary opposition its patriarchal narrative of sexual difference describes and fortifies, with its phallic logic and conservative family romance: 'Sameness, like difference is a (motivated) fantasy not a natural fact \u2013 a construction, and, like all constructions of its time, provisional'. This would entail exploring the force _and_ the instabilities of those constructions preserving male dominance in family life and sexual regulation, as they intrude into psychic experience and shape the normative Oedipal narrative of child development. It would also direct our attention to the multiplicity of adult pleasures and desires. Were the instabilities and complexities of erotic life more central to psychoanalytic reflection, it might be easier to see how often, and how inevitably (and usually without succumbing to psychotic delusion), subjective experience implodes those binaries inscribing sexual difference. Pursuing such a course would mean that the feminist cycles of embracing or denouncing psychoanalysis could be broken, since, as Adam Phillips suggests: 'It is not so much the future of psychoanalysis that anyone should worry about, but rather the finding of languages for what matters most to us; for what we suffer from or for, for how and why we take our pleasures'.\n\nMost psychoanalytic theorizing, even when feminist, has still to liberate itself from the bedrock of sexual difference. It may, or may not, take longer to liberate actual women and men from the ambivalence, the confusion and the pain of living out the effects of cultural myths which generate antagonism of the sexes. In my final chapter, I return to the diverse aspirations and achievements of different formations of feminism as they draw very different conclusions about the situation of women at the end of the millennium. It is the ever-deepening divisions between women themselves which encourages what can be seen as the stand-off within feminism today between 'culture' and 'polities': between those who privilege cultural analysis and its deconstructions of subjectivity, on the one hand, in volatile conflict with those committed to women's political activism, or the production of knowledge in the service of such activism, on the other.\n\n# **7**  \nOnly Contradictions on Offer: Feminism at the Millennium\n\n> Feminism tries to empower women so that they can create the lives they want, but it also, and simultaneously, puts their very desires into question, for it asks whether there are wants women have not yet begun, or dared, to imagine.\n> \n> Muriel Dimen, _Contemporary Psychoanalysis_\n\nIt is hardly news to suggest that there is a contradiction at the heart of feminism. And in these times of rapid changes in gender practices and meta-narrative mistrust, most of its thoughtful exponents know better than to think we might eliminate it. Feminism, Joan Scott pronounces, has 'only paradoxes to offer'. Most have seen the dilemmas of feminism to be a result of the confusions generated between competing objectives. The first is its struggle to improve the lives and status of the majority of women, especially where they have appeared most vulnerable when classified as a sex \u2013 whether in their sexual, reproductive, working or social lives. It is campaigning for gender justice or equality that feminism presents itself in its decisively activist mode, most reminiscent of the 1970s. The second objective is to reinvent the meanings of womanhood, to imagine the feminine in ways which radically subvert existing symbolic binaries of sex, gender and sexuality. This is the declared stance of a 'nineties' feminist post-structuralism (confusingly also often labelled 'post-modern'). However, operating from within the symbolic frame from which it aims to liberate itself, it is less obvious how feminism should launch itself into acts or accomplishments outside 'the phallacy of masculine meaning'. Moreover, this tension \u2013 sometimes described as one between reformist and revolutionary goals \u2013 is heightened by recurring friction between personal and collective struggle. Where once Women's Liberationists hoped for harmony between their own search for empowerment and the needs of women in general, no such illusion is now possible.\n\nA resolution of the conflicts within feminism may not be either possible or desirable. But there surely are ways of embracing tension and contradiction in reviewing gender politics which can, even now, give richer meanings to our personal lives, and encourage collective endeavours towards more desirable futures. For reasons I try to draw together in this closing chapter, it seems unlikely that we can ever repackage feminism in a neat or orderly fashion. But attempting to summarize the very extensive changes in the situation of women and men, three decades after the resurgence of feminism, can help us decide whether there remain aspects of feminism which can still inspire a confrontational politics and culture, even in these times of widespread political quietude in the overdeveloped world. They would have to be feminist tendencies able to ally themselves with other progressive forces against the disparate sources of social inequality, cultural invalidation and personal misery.\n\n## _**Snapshots of Gender**_\n\nThe differing faces of feminism in the media, the academy and politics reflect competing aspects of women's lives today. Depending on our framing, we find two deeply contrasting images: one is gloomy; the other cheerful. Since the 1980s, at a time of mounting economic instability worldwide, there has been a huge expansion in low-waged, insecure jobs in Britain and the USA \u2013 the two countries with which I am most familiar. This has occurred alongside continuing attacks on welfare benefits, including the specific targeting of state assistance for single mothers and the disabled, as part of the spread of the low-tax, free-market tenets of economic neo-liberalism, which has accompanied global economic restructuring. The rolling back of social welfare has in turn incited a renewed emphasis on the importance of traditional family life and, in particular, fathers' rights and responsibilities. Women, overall more engaged in the work of childcare and nurturing, suffer specifically, or disproportionately, from welfare cutbacks and paternalistic rhetorics, and many remain at the harshest end of deepening inequalities worldwide, in low-paid, low-status jobs. Those who have researched the effects of the last two decades of change on women in Britain and North America, for example, report that while many women have made considerable progress since the 1980s, the lives of certain other women, especially single parents and the elderly (with a majority of women in both groups) were getting worse and worse. Moreover, receding expectations of social provision serve to undermine precisely those goals for which the women's movement in the 1970s fought so vigorously, leading to a turning away from militant protest and the disparaging of collective action. Thus, organized resistance to changes in government spending dramatically decreased over this period. Sylvia Bashevkin writes of the 'triple whammy' effect on many women in Britain, the USA and Canada: 'Work pressures, cuts to government spending, and the advocacy crunch \u2013 taken together \u2013 meant many women faced low pay, no job security, less of a government safety net on which to rely when they were old, sick or unemployed, and fewer opportunities to protest'. Those facing the harshest extremes of poverty were also less and less likely to be white, as racial disadvantage deepened in times of increasing inequality.\n\nIn the USA, political assaults on anything coded as feminist scholarship grew more vicious, as in Harold Bloom's denunciation of the 'rabblement' of 'inchoate would-be Parisians'. The soldiers of the conservative 'culture wars' now march out beyond their US birthplace and have acquired some unlikely followers along their way. At the same time, when absorbed into mainstream political agendas, feminist discourses have often been twisted to accommodate more traditional moral crusades waged in the name of women's and children's intrinsic need for 'protection' from predatory male sexuality (although certain forms of radical feminist analysis \u2013 most obviously that of Catharine MacKinnon \u2013 bears some responsibility for this appropriation).\n\nBack to basics, in the UK, women's pay as a percentage of men's has remained relatively stable, with women's average earnings still at least a third less than men's (women working part-time average only 58 per cent of men's hourly earnings; full-timers' hourly average has risen to 80 per cent of men's, but their weekly wage remains over a third less, due to men's longer hours, overtime and additional benefits). Indeed, women's lower wages relative to men persists throughout the world, and where women's share has risen (from around 62 per cent to 72 per cent in the USA since the 1970s) it is mainly attributable to the decline in men's wages. Meanwhile, housework and childcare are still primarily seen as women's responsibility in the overwhelming majority of households \u2013 including dual-income families. A more demanding workplace makes it harder than ever to harmonize jobs and outside commitments, especially for mothers. Thus, research consistently indicates that women have far less leisure time than men, and many feel guilty about neglecting their children's needs due to the demands of their jobs. Even in the poorest families living on benefit, men still have pocket money for themselves, while women do not, according to a recent report from the Policy Studies Unit in Britain. Men's violence against women and sexual abuse remain endemic. Indeed, the reporting of rape, child sexual abuse and serious violence against women has been increasing since the mid-1980s, yet conviction rates have been decreasing; meanwhile, funding for rape-counselling, women's refuges and the rehousing of battered women and their children has shrunk in both Britain and North America. Some might well wonder, some _do_ wonder, has feminism been on a hiding to nothing?\n\nYet, tilt the frame just a little, and the picture that comes into focus is much more optimistic. Welfare reform, new policies for single mothers and an emphasis on paternal responsibilities are characteristically couched in the language of autonomy and responsibility which was at the heart of seventies feminist rhetoric. Indeed, as others have noticed \u2013 and the mourning for Princess Diana in Britain encapsulated \u2013 the espousal of a new type of 'feminized', personalized or therapeutic rhetoric abounds today on radio, television and in a plethora of self-help books, borrowing the feminist consciousness-raising discourses of disclosure and shared pain. More-over, the choices open to women have increased remarkably in the closing decades of the twentieth century, mostly undermining former patriarchal presumptions: many women now delay motherhood; more cohabit and marry later; more divorce and separate; more remain childless; more raise children on their own. This has been made possible primarily by what has been called the 'feminization' of the economy. Full-time jobs in many manufacturing industries have been disappearing, as jobs in the service sector keep expanding. Clerical jobs still account for the largest group of women workers in developed countries, but women have also made rapid progress within most professional and managerial jobs, especially as doctors, lawyers, accountants and business administrators \u2013 even if rarely reaching the top levels. Indeed, rather than flaunting any observable or intrinsic 'difference' from men, childless young professional women are working longer hours, and earning slightly more (104 per cent) of equivalent men's earnings. They are, as Suzanne Franks' study reveals, 'the most desirable workers of all'.\n\nMeanwhile, the domain of women's lives, once near-invisible, has moved closer to the forefront of international politics, in dialogue which has become more blind to 'class', and more equivocal about 'race'. 50,000 people (mostly women) attended the United Nations Fourth World Conference on Women in 1995 in Beijing, and the associated Non-Governmental Organization (NGO) Forum held nearby. The consequent Beijing Declaration and Platform for Action, built upon twenty years of planning, debates and action, is an impressive statement urging the promotion of women's interests worldwide. Assessing its impact on government actions internationally a few years later, Charlotte Bunch concluded from her Center for Global Leadership at Rutgers University: 'The energy, the activity of Beijing, has not gone away'. As two other early women's liberation activists from the USA insist, the world really has changed:\n\n> It's hard now to evoke the sea of misogyny in which more than one generation of women struggled before the women's movement.... One general claim feels solid: gross and unapologetic prejudice against women is no longer an unremarked-upon given of everyday life. In the long years before second-wave feminism, women and girls were unquestionably belittled.... Humiliation seemed fitting and pride made one faintly ridiculous. The prevailing assumption of the inferiority of women was the starting point from which one planned one's moves and shaped one's life \u2013 whether acquiescent or angry. The very difficulty of describing this prefeminist atmosphere today is a measure of how dramatically things have changed.\n\nWhat are we to make of these radically contrasting configurations? How we respond \u2013 whether we see litttle progress, or believe feminism has got what it wanted and should perhaps retire gracefully \u2013 will clearly depend upon the type of feminism we espouse. As we have seen, there have always been, and will always be, differing versions of what feminism is about, with the 'new' or latest trajectories invariably keen to mark their distance from the 'old'. We must 'stop looking at all our problems through men's eyes and discussing them in men's phraseology', a self-defined 'new feminist' writes: 'At last we have done with the boring business of measuring everything that women want, or that is offered them, by men's standards'. This particular advocate of a 'difference-based' feminism was determined to distance her vision and goals from, in her words, 'old feminist' campaigns for equal pay and open access to men's jobs, or for labour market reforms which could not answer the needs of unwaged women. However, she was _not_ picking up on any post-structuralist theorizing of phallogocentrism, and women's nomadic, multifarious but ineluctable 'otherness' (the bedrock of those young women now 'Doing Feminism, Being Feminist' in the 1990s, some of whom call themselves 'the third wave'). Rather, Eleanor Rathbone \u2013 for it was she \u2013 represented the 'new' feminist vision of the early twentieth century, against the 'old' feminism of the previous decades in the last _fin de si\u00e8cle._ Her distance from our own 'new' feminism of the 1990s, which also likes to distinguish itself from an 'old equal-rights feminism', of the 1970s, is easily detectable in her very next comment on the occasion of that particular address. Only 'state intervention' and 'welfare reforms', she continued, could end women's economic dependence through the 'endowment of motherhood', thereby freeing women from men's control. How her 'old statist rhetoric' betrays her!\n\n## _**The Subject of Dependency**_\n\nWomen's economic dependence and welfare reforms are topics currently on everyone's minds, but generating primarily only thoughts of purging most of those receiving any benefits. Today in Britain, as in the USA, the political usage of the term 'dependency' has been refashioned through repeated discursive shifts. Via successive Atlantic crossings, the very notion of 'economic dependency' is becoming synonymous with 'welfare beneficiary', prefigured in the words of the American Democrat Daniel Moynihan in the 1970s: 'the issue of welfare is the issue of dependency'. Tracing this genealogical transformation, Nancy Fraser and Linda Gordon note its conjunction with a flourishing, deceptively feminist-sounding, self-help literature on autonomy which, by mystifying the link between the psychological and the political, inflates 'welfare dependency' into a personality syndrome, testifying to inadequacy. This is why single mothers can be demonized if they _don't_ work, even while married women with young children can be demonized if they _do._ Shifting a mother from 'dependence' on the state to reliance on a man for economic support, in this troubling slippage, supposedly removes her from the pathologies of 'dependence'. The truth is otherwise.\n\nThe continuing offensive against welfare provides, perhaps, the single most general threat to Western women's interests at present \u2013 at least for those many women who are not wealthy, and who still take the major responsibility for caring work in the home. As feminists in the 1970s made so clear, and sought so hard to transform, women are most vulnerable to the very worst pathologies of 'dependence' when they are most at the mercy of husbands or male partners, especially during and after pregnancy and childbirth. Indeed, midwives in Britain have recently been asked to look for signs of abuse in just such women, following alarming reports from midwives in the USA examining the bruised bodies of pregnant women, and those who have recently become mothers. Similar antitheses exist in relation to needy children. Carolyn Steedman has written eloquently of how the expansion of welfare in the late 1940s gave a particular confidence to working-class children like herself:\n\n> I think I would be a different person now if orange juice and milk and dinners at school hadn't told me, in a covert way, that I had a right to exist, was worth something... its central benefit being that, unlike my mother, the state asked for nothing in return. Psychic structures are shaped by these huge historical labels: \"charity\", \"philanthropy\", \"state intervention\".\n\nLiz Heron echoes these sentiments, although, like Steedman herself, she was well aware of the limitations of such services: it was their paternalistic, undemocratic delivery which made them vulnerable to subsequent attack. Introducing her anthology of autobiographical writings by girls growing up in Britain in the 1950s, Heron writes: 'Along with the orange juice and the cod-liver oil, the malt supplement and the free school milk, we may also have absorbed a certain sense of our own worth and the sense of a future that would get better and better, as if history were on our side'. Not any more! The shedding of public responsibility for the welfare of poorer women threatens to devastate the lives of millions of children, as it has done already in the USA since the 1980s.\n\nIncreasingly in Britain, as in the USA, the new myth of 'dependency culture' is used to condemn those receiving any form of state service, marking them out as vulnerable to 'welfare dependency'. Yet, as Mary McIntosh reports, despite the hassles and indignities they now face, surveys of single mothers have shown that a majority would still prefer dependence on the state to their experience of dependence on a man. However, that option is disappearing. In alliance with Reagan and the American Right, there was no doubting Margaret Thatcher's determination to overturn all traces of the post-war Keynesian economic orthodoxy with its support for spending on welfare \u2013 while upholding and abetting spending on warfare. What is somewhat less clear is the extent to which the Blair government, like Clinton's 'New' Democratic Party, is simply a continuation of the same pro-scarcity neoliberal policies undermining the public realm, while encouraging market forces into every institutional domain.\n\nTo date, Blair's self-declared respect for his Tory predecessors, his unlimited admiration for Clinton (despite the latter's capitulation to dismantling welfare), his government's tireless discourse of fiscal 'prudence' and obeisance towards the dynamism of unfettered market forces, his comprehensive ardour for Britain's 'special relationship' with the USA, have all impeded the production of any distinct or convincing alternative vision to the one he inherited. The legacy of neo-liberalism leaves the UK, in marked contrast to the rest of the EU, tailing the USA in its soaring inequality, with poverty in the USA estimated at twice that of any other advanced European nation, despite having the highest per capita income. (Sweden, with the longest tradition of social democratic organizations, still has the lowest incidence of poverty and inequality.)\n\nSearching for a 'third way' between the interventionist market constraints of welfare states and the turbulence of neo-liberalism, Blair \u2013 like Clinton \u2013 has moved towards what has been labelled the 'new paternalism'. This 'third way' fully endorses the earlier neo-liberal 'modernizing' crusade on restraining public spending, while insisting that market economics must reign supreme. Its characteristic 'new paternalism' (better seen as a 'new managerialism', in that women are as likely as men to implement its objectives) aims to tackle the escalating poverty, inequality, crime and social disintegration through closer supervision of the poor, rectifying what is seen as their personal inadequacies or fecklessness. Demanding an end to the 'poverty of ambition', social deprivation and welfare are to be reduced and managed through welfare-to-work regimes, with strong encouragement of private sector backing for training and resources in the public sector: these range from the teaching of parenting skills or job application techniques to finance and pension management. However, there is little evidence that 'workfare' serves as a springboard to real jobs, at least if we look at its implementation in New York over a period of several years: initial studies of the programme's success revealed that only 29 per cent of workfare participants who were forced off the welfare rolls were able to find even casual work. Meanwhile, although in acute tension with its aim of creating the fullest possible employment of poor and needy people (many of whom are women caring for children or other dependants), recent attempts to roll back welfare have also strongly promoted traditional nuclear family ideology and paternal responsibilities.\n\n## _**Family Values**_\n\nIn stark contrast with the repeated avowal of the 'pathologies' of 'welfare dependency' is the steadfast disavowal of knowledge of the actual casualties when women and children are most financially dependent on familial male authority. Such denial has been strenuously cultivated by the growing strength of 'family values' campaigners since the 1980s. 'Profamily' movements first arose in the 1970s as part of an explicit New Right backlash against feminism and sexual liberation, soon to be underwritten by Reagan and Thatcher. Two decades later, however, this neo-conservative rhetoric seems ubiquitous across the political spectrum. 'Strengthening the family has to be a number-one social priority', Tony Blair announced at the Labour Party Conference in Britain in 1995, embracing the double-dealing Communitarian Agenda of the American sociologist Amitai Etzioni, and echoing the sentiments of that other fading patriarch, Bill Clinton. (A married man, of course, can hardly be _more_ sexually conservative than to solicit blow jobs from his young employees!) This new family rhetoric, so powerfully promoted in the USA is, we should note, no longer explicitly anti-feminist, but hovers somewhere between post-feminist and anti-feminist agendas.\n\nMeanwhile, the knowledge that the traditional heterosexual marriage can create a living hell of cruelty, neglect and abuse is beaten back by what the American sociologist Judith Stacey calls the 'virtual social science' of distorted data about the dangers of 'fatherless', 'divorced' or 'lone-parent' families being constantly disseminated by the media. This encourages the continuing denial of lesbian and gay rights (as in campaigns to restrict custody and adoption rights to married heterosexuals) and obstructs official recognition of same-sex relationships. Furthermore, it dismisses the often invaluable role of friendships, community resources and wider structures of social support, which may be all that many individuals have to rely upon to keep them sane when most dependent on the family, for example those for whom childhood is, at the very best, a time of gritting the teeth and enduring. Most biographical narratives, clinical literature or serious self-reflection can swiftly trounce the supposedly caring values of pro-family warriors: yet such is the symbolic geography of that place we call 'home', they continue to flourish. A survey by the British charity National Chidren's Home Action in the late 1990s indicated that the main anxiety of 80 per cent of the children in their study was violence in the home (closely followed by bullying at school), figures which provoked the cultural critic Judith Williamson to mourn that despite all the talk about 'concern' for children, 'in material fact, we barely care for them at all'.\n\nEven the evils of paternal incest and domestic violence (recently once again deemed epidemic in US society by no less an authority than the conservative American Medical Association) are discarded for the evils of fatherlessness in the tendentious social scientific discourses of David Popenoe or David Blakenhorn in such books as _Rebuilding the Nest_ and _Fatherless America: Confronting our most Urgent Social Problem._ Mysteriously, these pathologies of abuse which feminists identified as part of the warp and weave of traditional, male-dominated family patterns have been rethreaded to appear as _themselves_ the product of family breakdown. Thus, when he lists the all-encompassing personal and social harms of 'fatherlessness', Blakenhorn moves on from citing 'crime' and 'adolescent pregnancy' to include 'child sexual abuse [and] domestic violence against women'. We are clearly not meant to unravel the twisted appropriation of what were initially neglected feminist concerns, now placed in the service of a traditional patriarchal orthodoxy.\n\n## _**Sweeping Anti-statism**_\n\nAgain looking anxiously at trends across the Atlantic, one can observe that the once explicit, but now more often disguised or denied, anti-feminist and anti-gay sentiments expressed in family values crusades match a sweeping anti-statist rhetoric \u2013 increasingly as prevalent on the left as the right. I was dismayingly alerted to further political reversals which may lie ahead for antiquated socialist feminists such as myself, by the recent thoughts about the state expressed by that once enduringly hopeful and combative feminist radical (and longstanding friend of mine), Barbara Ehrenreich. In her 'Confessions of a Recovering Statist', she publicly renounces _any_ hopes for progressive social reforms in the USA, whether around childcare or parental leave (or environmental reform). 'For the time being', she declares, 'we're not going to get anywhere with a progressive agenda consisting of... government initiatives. _Believe me, I have tried'._ She certainly has.\n\nEhrenreich contrasts the situation in the USA with the kinds of universal state provision she assumes is taken for granted in Western Europe. In the USA, Ehrenreich argues that there is now no combating the right's anti-state propaganda: that is, after two decades of radical conservative pressure, and after Clinton's welfare 'reform' which removed federal responsibility for assisting children in poverty, while at the same time authorizing millions of dollars to be spent not on sex education, contraception or to prevent violence against women, but rather on a puritanical morality which consigns single mothers to courses in 'abstinence education' (Clinton's way of having sex, perhaps!). Other feminist political scientists, based in the USA, such as Zillah Eisenstein and Anna Marie Smith, also express their increasing suspicions of the costs of what they call the 'insider strategy' or 'feminizing the mainstream'. They believe that feminist support for Clinton facilitated his successful presentation of 'feminine' and 'feminist' signifiers, making women's votes decisive in his re-election in 1996 (with the largest gender gap in the history of US presidential voting), but ultimately helping to neutralize opposition to his welfare cuts. Even some of the most sophisticated theoretical works, like Wendy Brown's _States of Injury,_ while skilfully exposing both the logic of victimhood and the theoretical incoherence in feminist rhetorics like that of Catharine MacKinnon, which demand state protection from 'pornographic' imagery, retain a near exclusive focus on 'the state as a negative domain for democratic political transformation', stressing the 'perils' attending _all_ feminist appeals to it for gender justice. Without wanting to deny the oppressive role of the modern state (not only in its official policing and militaristic role, but also in its protection of already dominant groups via normative regimes regulating access to welfare and social resources), it seems to me that those seeking a better world for all women can hardly afford to abandon struggles 'in and against' it.\n\nMeanwhile, although terminally pessimistic about feminists having any progressive alignment with mainstream politics in the USA, Ehrenreich herself is perhaps too optimistic about Europe. Here too, welfare 'reform' is under way. Some feminists in Britain are watching the New Labour government with their initial rising hopes often moving towards despairing resignation, and wondering how long Anglo-American contrasts will hold. There has been some progress, with support for childcare for single mothers, to encourage (or will it mean force?) them into jobs. But Blair's new Britain, as we have seen, still sanctifies the Thatcherite and old American way, with its litany for limiting public spending. As Mary McIntosh comments on the production of new terminology for the redefining of social needs: 'Typical of the new lexicon is the \"Benefit Integrity Project\", in which thousands of people who had previously been deemed severely disabled were deprived of their Disability Living Allowance'.\n\nSuch shifts in the vernacular of needs and entitlement indicate that it is the notion of universal welfare rights (as opposed to meagre provision for the poor) which is being eliminated. This serves to undermine the whole heritage and rationale of the British welfare state: one which relied upon progressive taxation to deliver a comprehensive social insurance system giving those in need of benefit a sense of entitlement. Using the defence that the 'deserving' poor \u2013 those who are absolutely unable to work for wages or have no crumb of private resources \u2013 can only be adequately assisted by removing benefits from the more 'affluent', progressive legislation involving general entitlements to child benefits, disability, or old age pensions, are now all under threat in Britain. Increasingly more people will have increasingly less reason to support a national insurance system from which they will, in principle, be excluded, feeding the destructively anti-social, anti-government feelings now so dominant in the USA: the sense that people get nothing in return for the taxes they pay, since they must take out private insurance for everything anyway. It has also been shown that welfare programmes regularly deteriorate once they assist only the most disadvantaged, and no longer cater for more powerful, middle-class interest groups. Comparing the failure of US rationing with the success of austerity measures in Britain during World War II, Harvey Levenstein concluded that the British, unlike the Americans, still had 'faith in their government'. In this age of socially regulated austerity, that faith in government and the social infrastructure of the public sector is being deliberately undermined.\n\nWith incentives to work as the prime focus of welfare reform, the hardship faced by significant numbers of women looks here to stay. These are the women trapped between the Scylla of longer hours at work and the Charybdis of increasing demands from children and other needy people at home, for which they are still held, and often feel, uniquely responsible. No amount of hollow familial ideology, contradictory workfare incentives or redefining of equality as 'social inclusion' solves the problems faced by so many working women today. As Suzanne Franks concludes: 'It seems unlikely the new millennium will bring a new balance of working and sharing \u2013 more likely a society that exacerbates the all or nothing divisions. Work will mean either the all-consuming 60-hour week or the insecure temporary life. Caring and everything else will have to fit in between.'\n\nYet pessimism is not entirely appropriate. It is false to claim that women's situation has stayed much the same, and even more misleading to suppose it has worsened. Women's growing economic independence has continued to undermine all the old structures of male domination, removing privileges which men could once take for granted at home and at work, and enhancing women's expectation \u2013 though not, perhaps, the practical choices open to them. Moreover, as Manuel Castells has exhaustively analysed, the displacement of the 'patriarchalism' which had ruled for millennia is increasingly global \u2013 notwithstanding its clashing and vicious entrenchment in certain nationalistic struggles. The dilemmas of the cultural transitions in gender practices indicate that new strategies are urgently needed to solve the increasing imbalance between caring commitments, employment practices and the rest of life. Everywhere gender relations still matter, generating conflict and anxiety for both sexes. They matter for women, who are usually the most directly affected by the conflictual demands of home and work. They matter for men: for the minority who attempt to participate in the home on equal terms, often with considerable strain; for the majority who have been slower to change, and face the resentment (and increasing levels of divorce and eviction) if they cannot, or will not, sustain more egalitarian relations. Most of all, gender issues matter for children and other dependent people in the home, who bear the brunt of poverty, overstretched and guilt-ridden carers and inadequate public services. It is clear that feminist concerns cannot be separated from struggles for an alternative vision and politics to those currently in command. Childcare provision, expanding social services, state regulation of minimum wages and maximum working hours, recognition of household diversity and strong incentives for the full sharing of caring in the home, would all form part of that vision \u2013 not unlike the socialist feminist agenda of a recent now-proscribed era. Accepting its elimination, Toril Moi has commented, '\"socialist feminism\" is not really a meaningful term in the 1990s'; although, curiously, she does want to know 'what kind of feminist a socialist feminist could be today?': the creature is dead, but its spectre survives her.\n\n## _**Switching to the Subject**_\n\nAs illustrated in chapter 1, welfare struggles were central to what is now seen as seventies 'equality' feminism: a democratizing, egalitarian and essentially modernist, reformist movement, with many utopian overtones. Back then, when 'reform or revolution' was the dominant rhetorical binary, most feminists stubbornly refused to choose, twisting and turning around it. Exchanging old binaries for new, 'equality or difference' has become _the_ central conundrum within feminist thought. The latter embraces, rather confusingly, both identity and \u2013 increasingly important in academic feminism \u2013 anti-identity politics: the joys and sorrows of subjectivity _and_ the question of its dismantling, each at different times harnessed to affirmations of a 'post-modernist' kind. Clashes over this conceptual divide continue to reverberate, feeding into the most futile and unhealthy of divisions within the left: that between class-based and cultural politics.\n\nOn its own, it is no secret that the theorizing of 'difference' paradigms in feminism, rightly suspicious of the chauvinisms, gaps and silences in old emancipatory rhetorics and practices of class, have tended to overshadow material differences within oppressed subject groups. Inside the Western academy, the intellectual prestige of post-structuralism and deconstruction led prominent feminist theoreticians to emphasize the discursive formations of selfhood via logics of exclusion and repudiation. Primarily concerned with ways of displacing or subverting the negation or subordination of the 'feminine' in language, or the silencing of women's voices in culture, the focus on identities, their affirmations and negations, has directed attention away from questions of redistributive justice and social restructuring, which were once central to socialist feminism \u2013 that current which is now so often excised from feminist texts, abridged into the retrospectively constructed 'equality' paradigm.\n\nIn a widely rehearsed debate on Italian feminism, for example, a minority, including Adriana Cavarero and Patrizia Romito, complain of the 'mamismo' in its mainstream movement, which has so exalted the 'maternal' that it plays into the hands of conservative forces violently hostile to change in traditional gender arrangements. Such exaltation certainly has little purchase on the reason Italian women have the _lowest_ birthrate in the developed world. More ironically, the tension between identitarian struggles (affirming hitherto demeaned or abjected subjectivities) and other political struggles prioritizing social equality and material need (which have often challenged or denied inherent subjective differences) have only deepened as the meanings of the 'difference' paradigm has expanded to include the multiply diverse, internally fragmented, post-colonial, anti-heterosexist, queer, 'in-between', subject positions occupied by women.\n\nIt is over a decade since Juliet Mitchell argued that feminism had unwittingly eased the way for new developments in capitalism, in an article assessing the effects of the first two decades of second-wave feminism. With its theorizing of the 'free play of multifarious differences', feminism has helped to construct an ideology that could disregard class and could side-line socio-economic comparisons to focus almost exclusively on the all-embracing opposition between men and women. It was easier in 1986, she noted, to get statistics on gender differences in educational achievement than on class comparisons. Twenty years ago the situation was completely the reverse. Misleadingly, in my view, Mitchell attributes far too much agency to feminism in assisting capitalist market forces, rather than seeing women as ensnared within them. Her words foreshadow those of many an incorrigible old chauvinist, like Norman Mailer, announcing that feminism was so successful because it 'was perfect for the corporation', promoting women as its 'gilt-edged peons'. More usefully, however, Mitchell highlighted, as others would soon also notice, the way in which feminist rhetoric and goals could be appropriated to legitimate technological, economic and legislative changes, which were not in themselves what feminists had been fighting for. Again we could look at Judith Stacey's work, in particular her study of women working for the Silicon Valley corporations, in _Brave New Families_.\n\nThe crucial point, and one often displaced in the turn to theorizing subjectivities in the 1980s, is the need to pay careful attention to the relationship between feminist discourses and practices as they at times contest, and at others are more likely to serve, shifting economic and social change. Such change has often little to do with eliminating the worst forms of social injustice, in a world where women in general continue to have significantly fewer resources and less power than men. If feminists are not to hide away in a largely misleading romance of women's ineluctable 'otherness', we will need to turn outwards more often: observing the zealously embraced centrality of many women in the new managerial and professional world, even as others are pushed more securely to the margins. Attending more closely to the mutating gendered dynamics of selective advancement and deterioration can also enlighten us about the refashioning of particular, class-based practices of masculinity which keep a small group of men at the very pinnacle of corporate power, despite having now to encourage women into their ranks, and even having to acquire the more expressive, conversational skills once coded as 'feminine'.\n\n## _**Activist Challenges**_\n\nDo not misunderstand me. I am well aware of the importance of the study of identities and differences: whether to explore how they are constructed and reconstructed, or to draw attention to all those subordinated and excluded by previously uncontested universalisms. Hierarchically gendered, sexualized, racialized or hybridized productions of identity are all _material_ in their injurious effects, and usually, though not necessarily, and in differing ways, tied up with the structuring of economic disadvantage and marginalization. Furthermore, it is identity-based politics which have so often inspired the cultures of activism which, in the best of times, form part of, or in other ways service, class-based trade-union and community struggles for better lives. As most feminists were once well aware, the really difficult challenge remains that of building culture and class coalitions, where sexism, racism and the radical complexities of other forms of exclusion or invalidation can find a place on the agenda. This is still the only way 'to prevent white male interests from dominating class politics and middle class interests from dominating cultural polities', as Andrew Ross concisely summarizes. If the left is ever to reconstitute itself as a popular movement, it can only do so by embracing the greatest possible diversity of progressive cultural alignments, while attending to the volatilities of 'class' itself, as it is culturally produced and experienced.\n\nThe ethnic and racialist provincialism of some earlier incarnations of feminism needed to be challenged by both the insights of black and Third World feminisms, on the one hand, and those theorists now emphasizing the intrinsic instabilities of being positioned as a 'woman', on the other: these two tendencies, retrospectively, are often confusingly conflated. Whether mapping the discourses or studying their modes of normalization, recent forms of feminist theory have usefully stressed the cultural particularities and psychic complexities of women's subjectivities (at least, when not submitting themselves to the dogged singularity of Lacan's law). However, for feminists in the academy, it was never going to be easy to return from the individual pleasures (or torments) of abstract thought to the heated exchanges of collective confrontation and strategic coalition.\n\nAs Jane Gallop, one of the most provocative and passionate defenders of feminist pedagogy, has mused: 'We don't seem very able to theorize about how we speak, as feminists wanting social change, from within our positions in the academy'. More bitterly, the African Americanist Hazel Carby pointed out in 1992 that the scholarly recognition of 'diversity and difference', and the inclusion of black writers in the syllabus of women's studies and literature departments in the USA over the last decade, has accompanied the significant and steady _decline_ in the percentage of black students reaching college. Observing how few alliances have been forged in recent times between the academy and the black working class and urban poor, Carby concludes (understandably, if somewhat harshly): 'Black cultural texts have become fictional substitutes for the lack of any sustained social and political relationships with black people in a society that retains many of its historical practices of apartheid in housing and schooling'. The problem, according to left critics of multiculturalism, is not that it politicizes the academy (to the horror of its right-wing critics), but that it constitutes politics as _primarily_ academic.\n\nIn a particularly painful debate on the links between theory and action published in 1996 in _Signs,_ some of the best-known feminist activists in the USA, all of whom are in or close to the academy, maintain that they no longer read feminist theory. Rightly or wrongly, they argue that it bears little relation to the empirical complexities of analysing the demands of the women in ongoing struggles to whom they are committed \u2013 most often women fighting for what they see as basic 'human' rights (rather than specifically women's concerns) for health, housing, better educational or other welfare resources, as well as an end to poverty. One problem is that the struggles these activists refer to require an overall vision of a radically egalitarian society, in considerable tension with the positioning of much recent feminist theory as anti-humanist, post-Enlightenment, and post-nation-state.\n\nThe form of feminist activism involving solidarity with women in struggle worldwide is thus one which harks back to the so-called 'equality' feminism of the 1970s. Theorizing subjectivities and differences rarely inspires engaged rapport with those who, in Temma Kaplan's words, are most 'crazy for democracy' \u2013 women leading human rights campaigns against the very worst exploitation and abuses, whether in Southern or Northern hemispheres. For where women are most actively engaged in grassroots struggles today, as Kaplan's research illustrates, is also where their leaders are blurring rather than affirming differences between groups in favour of reclaiming, on their own terms, a rhetoric of _universal_ human rights: for example, that 'all human beings are entitled to safe housing and a clean environment and that sometimes only women can secure them'. Patricia Williams, in _The Alchemy of Race and Rights,_ argues similarly that rights rhetoric has been and remains important for black struggles, even though, and in part just because, 'rights' are historically 'unstable and shifting'. On the one hand, then, it has been essential for feminists to dismantle notions of the disembodied, abstract universal, hitherto operating to exclude them in their particularity. On the other, the paradoxical empowerment of rights rhetoric is precisely that its universal ideal can _never_ be fixed, once and for all, but remains an abiding source of conflict and struggle, as Etienne Balibar, among others, has forcefully argued.\n\n## _**Disciplinary Feminism**_\n\nMeanwhile, whatever the political potential of appeals to 'ambiguous universalities', the grassroots movements for social justice which women are leading today require a variety of types of scholarly servicing, some of which are increasingly absent from the most esteemed forms of feminist theorizing, as it has moved from its earlier stronghold in sociology and the social sciences into English and the humanities (producing its own somewhat embittered rejoinder). Such servicing would need to encompass theories of world markets, and seek to explain why increasing globalization has gone hand in hand with the rolling back of welfare rights, even in developed capitalist countries such as Britain \u2013 although not, like Mitchell, in order to impugn feminist complicity. Without such theory, it is hard to know the possibilities and limits of effective resistance, especially when we are faced with the largely unjustified alarmism that nation-states are necessarily powerless in the face of such globalization. One might note here that the market dictatorship which has encouraged the crisis of public finance, allowing the wealthy worldwide to contribute less and less to the financing of public expenditure, is still dominated by Anglo-American capital and ideological convictions. There are continuing, large differences in state expenditures on welfare, with \u2013 contrary to most globalization rhetoric \u2013 no consistent effect on growth rates. Moreover, the global economy always displays strong national elements. While transnational corporations currently operate in the context of volatile world financial markets, both the production and consumption of most goods and services occurs at national levels: only 15 per cent of commodities derive from lower wage countries.\n\nFeminist studies, like cultural studies, began as a genuinely _interdisciplinary_ field of knowledge. But the current pressures of the academy are such that it is almost impossible to maintain genuinely cross-disciplinary interests and knowledge, so harnessed are we to ever narrower channels of disciplinary career and publication. Attending feminist conferences seemed once to promise access to areas of knowledge far removed from one's own, but the disciplining of feminism within the academy makes that much less likely today. Indicatively, the conference _At the Millennium: Interrogating Gender_ organized by _Woman: A Cultural Review,_ although explicitly 'interdisciplinary' in conception and subtitle, reflected the predominance of English and cultural studies in the vanguard of academic feminism. Indeed, I was the sole speaker from the social sciences. This stimulated distinctive modes of gender interrogation which, although certainly diverse, thoughtful and creative, authorized specific but mostly narrowly conceived visions of futurity: many of them in search of the most enabling metaphors for feminists to work with. One, for example, offered the 'trickster', as post-modern shape-shifter, who can be both man and woman, hence paying no deference to single categories like that of gender or sexuality. While helping us explore the instabilities of gender, however, its champion on this occasion (Gillian Beer) was careful to caution us that her particular future-orientated, feminist figurine has little concern for others, indeed performs her\/his tricks at the expense of others. Another (Elizabeth Bronfen) suggested the 'hysteric' as futuristic feminist icon. Once we depathologize her, we were told, she offers a strategy for questioning and teasing the master's narrative, revealing its fraudulence.\n\nThese playful, transgressive emissaries of change or resistance can help us not only to address the agonies and duplicities of subjectivities, but encourage us to attend to their potentially mutually contradictory descriptions of and investments in reality. They cannot, however, provide the theoretical resources most useful for women hoping for a stake in the future while positioned at the sharpest edge of struggles for justice and survival. That requires more attention to actually existing social relations and their discursive boundaries. One can see the same disciplinary dominance in an American volume, published in 1997, entitled _Generations: Academic Feminists in Dialogue;_ nineteen of the twenty-one contributors come from literature departments. Distinguishing what she sees as the 'personal' and 'political' strands of feminism from the 'intellectual', one contributor sums up her view of the intellectual dimension of feminism through a now prevalent but exclusively disciplinary lens: 'Intellectual feminism is analytical; it concerns itself with \"reading\" the representations of women in culture and its texts and artifacts'. Academic feminism has taken a very particular route here, one which might seem strange to the poet and short-story writer whom feminist literary scholars once studied, Grace Paley: 'Feminism means political consciousness. It means that you see the relationship between the life of women and the political life and power around her. From there you can take any route you want'.\n\nBut can we take any route we want as feminists within the academy today? There is an important connection between the last two problems I have been addressing: the academization of feminist politics and the logic of a narrow disciplinarity. Many feminists have worked hard to keep open a space for interdisciplinary work in the academy (which is not the same thing as renouncing scholarly expertise and academic specialization). Yet, the harsh irony is that the more disciplinarity has been undermined by philosophical and political critique of its founding assumptions, the more competing pressures inside the academy have forced disciplinary boundaries to tighten up in fiscally contracting times for higher education. Meanwhile, the move in academic fashions from sociology and the social sciences to English and the humanities was itself, at least in part, a sign of the decline of left politics after the close of the 1970s. There has been a corresponding change in the character of cultural studies, away from the sociology and cultural history of literature \u2013 manifest in the work of Raymond Williams and some of his ex-students, for example Terry Eagleton and Francis Mulhern, and in Stuart Hall and Birmingham cultural studies \u2013 towards more ahistorical and non-sociological theories of representation. Whether mourning the move away from the historicizing and contextualizing of culture, or castigating its reduction to 'recycled semiotics', a number of scholars, like Cary Nelson in the USA, have begun arguing for the repoliticization of cultural studies, and its opening up to other disciplinary resources: 'Recognizing how fragile and contingent both moral and historical consensus is', Nelson argues, 'only increases the need for advocacy and interpretation'. Similarly, among feminist scholars, even such a radical deconstructionist as Barbara Johnson has admitted: 'I think it's true that in order for certain things to happen, sites have to be occupied blindly or out of a passion for justice'. The most intellectually productive thing, she now concludes, is to be both politically committed at the same time as retaining 'skepticism toward the authority of existing cultural arrangements, [and] toward the supposed \"universality\" or \"impartiality\" of existing \"truths\" '.\n\n## _**Cultural Imperatives**_\n\nAlthough desiring greater cross-disciplinary communication in feminist forums, I am not endorsing those academics now making a name for themselves through an anti-theoretical populism. Least of all am I trying to jettison cultural analysis for what is often falsely posed against it as 'materialist'. Any feminism still seeking to overturn the indignities many women face (whether gender-specific or not, though the two are unlikely to be easily unravelled) needs to work to overcome the rifts which repeatedly arise between those advocating cultural and economic analysis as opposing priorities. For it is precisely cultural analysis of the pivotal place of sexual difference in the formation of subjectivity, combined with the coercive repetitions of gender in structuring social relations, that remains at the heart of gender politics worldwide, past and present. Whatever general rights and pragmatic distinctions need to be called upon in mobilizing support for women fighting for better lives, feminists cannot afford to retreat to reductive positions which would definitively distinguish the economic and political terrain from that which some would like to marginalize, if not jettison, as the discursive, or 'merely cultural' (as Judith Butler has described such dismissals). Indeed, few intellectual efforts are less politically productive, or more symptomatic of morbidity, than the attempts of left offshoots of the culture wars in the USA (now also making their appearance in Europe) to defend the supposedly 'real' left against a phony 'cultural' left. This was most egregiously expressed in the hoaxing of _Social Text_ by physicist Alan Sokal in 1996, with the assistance of two well-known feminist scholars (Barbara Epstein and Ruth Rosen), to the applause of many others (Katha Pollitt and Barbara Ehrenreich being two of the best known). It also seems to have motivated the philosopher Martha Nussbaum into accepting a platform offered her by the conservative US journal the _New Republic_ to pose feminists 'with eyes always on the material conditions of real women' and their 'real struggles' against the 'hip defeatism of Judith Butler', with her focus on the symbolic. (Illustrative of the muddle produced by such polarizing polemic, Nussbaum offers Catharine MacKinnon's work as exemplary of a 'materialist' feminism despite her exclusive focus on forms of sexual symbolism and what many see as politically dangerous ways of eliminating it.)\n\nEconomic realities and the shifting fortunes of women worldwide are, everywhere, enmeshed within cultural understandings of sexual difference, which still, on all sides, help to promote male paranoia, misogyny, homophobia and related violence against women, gays and other subordinated or dissident men. As we saw in chapter 4, there is no other way to understand the pervasive sense that women in the West are now the 'winners', and men the 'losers', in an ongoing battle of the sexes. We need to understand that it is this very terminology \u2013 the positioning of the sexes as embattled primarily with each other \u2013 which is quintessentially cultural, and which defers recognition that men, like women, are disparately affected by wider forces of economic restructuring, downsizing and increased job insecurity. Perceiving men as 'losers' obscures an array of crucial questions: which men are losing out?; according to what criteria? We will never understand what is at stake here in generating defensive masculinities by posing men as inferior to the very group over whom their 'manhood' should render them superior, without attention to 'the cultural' and its material embeddedness. The burgeoning literature on men and masculinities can reveal little about the predicament and anxieties of men unless it understands the dynamics of power which have hitherto structured gendered meanings and institutional practices. The one cannot be parted from the other \u2013 at least, not until women are everywhere already seen as commensurate to men.\n\n## _**Feminism without Politics**_\n\nThroughout this book I have conveyed a sense of the disruptions and strains caused by changing gender relations, everywhere apparent yet everywhere unresolved. Whether we notice them in the underachievement or misdeeds of boys, potential sexual hazards facing girls, the failures and uncertainties of men, the bitterness or overwork of married women, the impoverishment of lone mothers and their children, the deliberate provocations of sexual dissidents, daily fears of violence or simply in the continuing debates within and about feminism itself, gender is part of our very existence, our social being.\n\nThe proliferation of discourses about gender problems has given birth to a growth industry designed to handle some of the more manageable protests. Thus the delivery of individually packaged 'equal opportunities' is a key theme of the ever more compulsory implementation of human resource management for teaching improved social and interpersonal skills, flexibility, time-budgeting and resourcefulness: these are differently marketed across a broad social terrain from administrators to the jobless or homeless. Assessing its impact on management itself, some researchers have suggested that male managers adapt to the new discourses of gender equality by playing with their gendered identities and improving their interpersonal skills, thereby ensuring they remain in control. The provision of more personal and intimate resources to assist those grappling with gender troubles comes from an expanding array of individual and group therapies, and the explosion of self-help books. They encourage the sharing of feelings, vulnerabilities and anxieties, all geared towards greater self-understanding and self-acceptance. It is noteworthy that many of these therapies and most of the self-help agendas draw upon the resources of early feminist consciousness-raising, while discarding its political analysis and collective confrontational strategies.\n\nA feminist would hardly want to negate the dissemination of equal opportunity discourses and practices, even if suspicious of the instrumental absorption and reproduction of its message. It would be even more foolish to join the popular sport of ridiculing therapy, as though most of us are not to varying degrees in need of the personal support, greater self-awareness and emotional expressiveness it attempts to offer. Moreover, many radical therapists, like Susie Orbach and Andrew Samuels, have been using their clinical expertise to work with others offering more imaginative ways for approaching political issues \u2013 from crime and punishment to parenting and sexuality. And least of all, should we expect to find perfect harmony between our public and private selves, or any easy, or even necessary, integration of feminist theoretical work with effective political practice. Nevertheless, the diffuse acceptance and commercial marketing of 'equal ops', self-help and therapeutic cultures, return us to the expedient accommodation of mainstream culture to selective aspects of feminism, even as it rejects or ridicules others, sometimes managing a strange combination of the two: 'If feminism no longer has any consistent ideology, it still prides itself on its own righteousness'. Feminist rhetoric has been widely accepted (if still the butt of satire), especially insofar as it applauds a gentle type of care-based ethic, the affirmation of a benevolent 'femininity', open and sensitive to the needs and vulnerabilities of others (for example, in the media-friendly, widely promoted, work of Carol Gilligan or Jean Bethke Elshtain), but distanced from radical or threatening challenges, whether of thought or action.\n\nThe continuing dissemination of just such a 'feminist' into 'feminizing' personal ethos can offer a feminism _without_ an oppositional culture or politics, one which has encouraged some feminists to replace what they now describe as their former 'hardened' language of politics, with a 'cosier' language of feelings. However, the particular structure of feeling they elaborate, although frequently attributed to the effects of pain and suffering, is one which is always seen as adjustable. Not for them, the intractable terrors of paranoia, sadism or terminal despair. 'I suppose I am more interested in average grief, inner grief, the grief most of us feel', one such newly retrained psychotherapist reflected when interviewed in 1997. It is ironic that at a time when the air is full of therapeutic re-skilling, the man who provided the seedbed from which such diversified trainings have grown, is everywhere denounced for his 'fraudulence' and 'fakery'. Freud, as discussed in chapter 6, offered a far bleaker, more pessimistic vision. The cosier therapeutic version of feminism can easily slide into, or at least be used in the service of, a wider culture of blandness and denial: one which collapses the political into the personal, the collective into the individual. Such a culture can accommodate governments which pretend that they cannot change what it is _only_ in their power to change, while demanding that individuals \u2013 whether parents, teachers or simply as luckless souls \u2013 _can_ change what they have little hope of changing (given socially generated scarcity, deepening levels of inequality and ever-growing competitiveness). Joining those who suggest that the _political_ point of studying personal life has been disappearing from a lot of feminist writing, Juliet Mitchell argues that feminism now needs to put women back into a 'transformational' political arena, to ask of the personal: _'Does it become part of the political program or does it just stay there as the personal'_.\n\nIn Britain in the late 1990s, widespread publicity accompanied the appearance of a book declaring the dawn of a 'New Feminism': this time as a mainstream, majority movement in which women \u2013 from the Spice Girls to Cherie Blair and her husband's hundred new women MPs \u2013 can celebrate their own sudden power and achievements (in part thanks to Margaret Thatcher for normalizing female success). Its author, the journalist Natasha Walter, like Naomi Wolf before her, offers a form of power-feminism, applauding women's growing success, identification with their jobs and their ability to help each other. She reports on the penetration of feminist beliefs throughout society, reflected in mainstream culture and evident in the increasing support by men for women at home \u2013 if still from only a minority. Her book is useful, not only in outlining the real progress many women have made, but also in highlighting how much is still to be done. It is packed with pertinent statistics and the words of a diversity of women. Listing the multiple problems women still face, from grinding poverty, meagre childcare, dead-end jobs, inadequate public services to absence from power-elites, she wants more change to enable all women to find a place, where she hopes to see them, 'in the corridors of power'. However, her sketch of women's lives is one emptied of political theory or any specific strategies for combating the many obstacles she describes still confronting the majority of women. Instead, she appears to believe that it is feminism itself which has failed to deliver change for women, and this is because it 'gradually became primarily associated with sexual politics and culture'.\n\nBut quite how 'feminism' will manage to deliver, once it remedies its ways and adopts 'a new, less embattled ideal', remains mysterious. Walter's analysis promotes no particular collective political formations or affiliations. We are simply told: 'We must understand that feminism can give us these things now, if we really want them'. Fingers crossed! Although pleasantly symptomatic of many women's goodwill towards a 'feminism' they feel free to fashion, it lacks the very thing it hopes to promote: political seriousness. Introducing her follow-up collection a year later, again offering us 'feminism for a new generation', Walter is even more confident that feminism is 'on the move', evident in women's strong desire for a more equal society. The fact that our society is actually becoming ever more _unequal,_ and her authors often committed to a wholly individualistic ethic (one of them offers an exemplary tale of her heroine, Jade Beaumont, who believes that 'People should deal with their own problems; you shouldn't get yourself into situations you can't handle and then slop all over everybody else') does not give her pause for thought about the significance of the political ravine between personal declarations in favour of a fairer world, and its attainment. It should.\n\n## _**Political Futures**_\n\nThe last _fin de si\u00e8cle_ was seen as an optimistic era by many first-wave feminists. This time around, for all its internal conflicts and ambivalence, and despite co-option by commercial, conservative or gender-normalizing forces, feminism remains a powerful cultural presence. Walter is right about that. Despite the continuous presence of anti-feminist manoeuvres (sporadically operating with lethal effect, as in the antiabortion movement in the USA) and the frightening extremes of some men's misogyny and violence, women will not abandon their quest for personal autonomy and equality. After all, significant numbers live in a world where they experience its actuality, at least when young and childless. But, as time goes by, they too are increasingly likely to encounter painful injustices in gender settlements.\n\nThe multifarious voices still speaking in the name of feminism offer not so much paradoxes as full-blown contradictions. The more flexible and volatile our identities, bodies and lives are conceived to be in academic discourses deconstructing genders and sexualities, the more predictably social constraints and pressures, or personal compulsions, manifest themselves in the lives of many women, and men. With individual choice and personal responsibility the mantra of the 'Third Way', feminism's own 'women's right to choose' is mocked by a culture in which lack of childcare, fear of poverty or career demands means that more women feel they have no choice at all: the social supports they hoped for are absent. Meanwhile, as one staunch feminist campaigner laments: 'the tabloids feel free to vilify one woman for not wanting as many as two babies and another for trying to have more than two'. Until quite recently feminists still hoped to transform the relations between employment and family lives. Today, Blair's new Britain installs an old and punishing 'work' ethic which, despite feminist attention to the 'labours of love' from the 1960s onwards, remains incapable of questioning any of the old terms \u2013 whether that of 'labour' or 'love'. A decade ago, there was still a debate in the British and American media on the future of the nuclear family. Today the superiority of that family structure over all possible alternatives is once again everywhere trumpeted, even as its prevalence continues to decline.\n\nIn the most technologically innovatory of times, as some feminists write of women's particular affinity with the supposed freedoms of cyberspace (despite men's dominance of 90 per cent of its highways), many women face a future where we are leading the most comprehensively conservative of lives: less politically engaged, less utopian in vision, less time, even, for friends and family. Writing of the unexpected decline of leisure in the USA, Juliet Schor points out that since the 1970s there has been a steady increase in the number of hours on the job put in by fully employed workers, while the same alarms about expanding working hours are sounding in the UK. It is primarily women who are still somehow expected to make up for the hours lost from creating loving homes and healthy communities, simultaneously being applauded for how far they have come in gaining equality with men. Given the persisting strength of this aspect of traditional gender ideology, it is, as it always has been, the daily lives of women which most directly absorb the shocks and contradictions of these mean yet widely disparate times. What women do, when they do what is most expected of them as women, is not something best organized according to the dictates of profit or capitalist market relations. Therein lies the radical potential of feminism as an oppositional politics: one which dares to fight a culture and a political system which tries to numb us into acceptance that it can fulfil our needs and desires.\n\nWhy feminism? Because a feminism which is serious about the potential and obstacles to political change, and which knows that we are never outside either the personal or the cultural, still has something unique \u2013 if hardly 'new' \u2013 to offer. Part of that offering should be an understanding of the complexity of subjectivity, and the significance of representation, not to mention the difficulty of arguing for a socialist economics in the present climate. The special legacy of feminism lies in its striving to keep relating the personal and cultural to the economic and political, however forbidding and precarious that enterprise may be. Although academia has been the easy target of recent disparagement, feminism needs the time and resources it can still help to provide \u2013 so long as we can preserve it from the worst effects of reshaping by pseudo or actual market forces. It is more true than ever that few women have the time, even if they had the inclination (in these days when only instrumentalized self-serving is applauded), to sift through the differing versions of feminism. And this leaves a contentious minority of women to dominate the airwaves, especially those selected by commercial publishers for offering simple or sensationalized positions and prescriptions (invariably packaged as 'new' and 'subversive' on account of their discarding prior radical convictions). Part of the ongoing project of feminism should be the attempt to map out and assess which different pieces in the jigsaw of feminism get picked up, and why; it should also be asking, at any given time and place, who is selecting the fragments, and \u2013 however unintendedly \u2013 whose particular interests their delivery serves. This commands less media space, but is at the heart of the political presence of any movement.\n\nGiven the diversity of reformist, identitarian, deconstructive, activist, therapeutic and power feminisms, it is true that we can indeed take many different routes as feminists leaving the twentieth century. We need to learn from each other's journeys, and to recognize that what will engage the attention and further the interests of one group of women will not be most relevant to the needs of another. The political never simply reduces to the personal, nor to the unfettered analysis of culture, even though attention to desire, discourse and the promotion of caring and responsible sexual politics remains one of the crucial resources feminism delivers to politics. It is only by finding ways to foster effective vehicles for change that feminists can still hope to open spaces for more women to flaunt the diverse pleasures, entitlements and self-questioning to which recent feminist thinking has encouraged us to aspire (often, disconcertingly, in line with late capitalist consumerism). This means women collectively cherishing the existence of the left: whether in alliance with social democratic forces (fighting to preserve their redistributive egalitarian instincts, which will never be smoothly compatible with commercial entrepreneurialism, while opposing their traditional paternalism); with trade unions (continuing to overturn their erstwhile straight, white, male hegemony); with whatever manifestations of local or international struggles emerge to defend those at the sharpest end of market forces or regressive nationalisms, persisting racisms and xenophobia. Why feminism? Because its most radical goal, both personal and collective, has yet to be realized: a world which is a better place not just for some women, but for all women. In what I still call a socialist feminist vision, that would be a far better world for boys and men, as well.\n\n## **Notes**\n\n### _Introduction:_ Why Feminism?\n\n Jean Bethke Elshtain, _Public Man, Private Woman: Women in Social and Political Thought'_ , Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1981, p. 216.  J\u00fcrgen Habermas, 'The New Obscurity and the Exhaustion of Utopian Energies', in _Observations on the Spiritual Situation of the Age_ , ed. Habermas, Cambridge, Mass., MIT Press, 1984.  See Juliet Mitchell, 'Reflections on Twenty Years of Feminism', in _What is Feminism?_ , ed. J. Mitchell and A. Oakley, Oxford, Blackwell, 1986, p. 36.  This published comment is from Pat Woolley, founder of Redress Press in Australia, in Jane Sullivan, 'Sisters Ink: Tales from the Revolution', _Sydney Morning Herald Magazine: Good Weekend_ , 8 August 1988, p. 5; I have received several similar comments from erstwhile and current feminist publishers in Britain and the USA.  The majority of book buyers are said to be women, especially at the most popular end of the book market, in supermarkets. Information from Richard Knight at BookTrack, UK.  Adrienne Rich, 'Towards a Woman-Centered University', in _Lies, Secrets and Silences: Selected Prose, 1966\u20131978_ , New York, W. W. Norton, 1979, p. 126 (written 1973).  Polly Toynbee, 'Fay Plays the Fool', _The Guardian_ , 1 July 1998, p. 20.  See Catherine Hall, 'Feminism and Feminist History', in _White, Male and Middle Class_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1992, p. 12; Rosalind Coward, _Our Treacherous Hearts: Why Women Let Men Get their Way_ , London, Faber & Faber, 1992.  See Nancy Miller, 'Review Essay: Public Statements, Private Lives: Academic Memoirs for the Nineties', _Signs: Journal of Women in Culture and Society_, 1997, vol. 22, no. 4, 1997, p. 981.  Nicci Gerard, 'Interview: Calista Flockhart', in _The Observer Review_ , 14 June 1998, p. 11.  Germaine Greer, 'Thirty years ago I fought for women to say yes, yes, yes. Now we've forgotten how to say no', _The Observer Review_ , 19 October 1997, p. 4.  Andrea Dworkin, 'The Next Thousand Years', in ed. Charlotte Cole and Helen Windrath, The Female Odyssey: Visions for the 21st Century, London, Women's Press, 1999, p. 88.  Rosalind Coward, 'Do we Need a New Feminism?', _Women: A Cultural Review_ , forthcoming; Coward, _Sacred Cows_ , forthcoming.\n\n### Chapter 1 Generations of Feminism\n\n Patricia Romney, Unpublished Notes Prepared for Roundtable Discussion, 'Writing about a Visionary Movement in the \"Get Real\" World of the '90s: The History of Women's Liberation in the United States', 10th Berkshire Women's Conference, State University of North Carolina, June 1996.  Margaret Strobel, in ibid.  Rachel Blau DuPlessis and Ann Snitow, 'A Feminist Memoir Project', in _The Feminist Memoir Project: Voices from Women's Liberation_ , ed. DuPlessis and Snitow, New York, Three Rivers Press, 1998, p. 23; see also Katie King, _Theory in its Feminist Travels: Conversations in U.S. Women's Movements_ , Bloomington, Indiana University Press, 1994.  Meredith Tax, 'For the People Hear Us Singing, \"Bread and Roses! Bread and Roses'\", in _Feminist Memoir Project_ , ed. DuPlessis and Snitow, p. 321.  Mich\u00e8le Barrett and Anne Phillips, 'Introduction', _Destabilizing Theory: Contemporary Feminist Debates_ , ed. Barrett and Phillips, Cambridge, Polity Press, 1992, p. 2.  Ibid. pp. 2\u20134. Mich\u00e8le Barrett had expressed her reservations about her own 'seventies' thinking in _Women's Oppression Today_ , London, Verso, 1988, in a new preface, indicating (accurately) that recent feminist debate has problematized the notion of 'women' and 'woman', while suggesting that the notion of oppression 'looks decidedly dated today'.  Barrett and Phillips, _Destabilizing Theory_ , pp. 5, 8, 6.  Judith Butler and Joan Scott, eds, _Feminists Theorize the Political_ , London, Routledge, 1992.  Ibid., p. xiii.  Butler, 'Contingent Foundations', in ibid., p.17; emphases in original.  DuPlessis and Snitow, _Feminist Memoir Project_ , p. 21.  Butler has at times distanced herself from the narrowness of some of the 'theory' debate within feminism, pointing out in 1993: 'It seems to me that the disagreements which exist among us as thinkers are perhaps less salient than others which now hold sway in public intellectual life'. Judith Butler, 'For a Careful Reading' in _Feminist Contentions: A Philosophical Exchange'_ , ed. Seyla Benhabib et al., London, Routledge, 1995, p. 132.  See, for example, Linda Gordon, 'Review of _Gender and the Politics of History_ by Joan Wallach Scott', _Signs_ 15, Summer, 1990.  Joan Wallach Scott, 'Response to Gordon', _Signs_ 15, Summer, 1990, p. 859. See also the measured and thoughtful account of the erasure of feminist theoretical heterogeneity in Susan Stanford Friedman, 'Making History', in _Feminism Beside Itself_ , ed. Diane Elam and Robyn Weigman, London, Routledge, 1995.  Patricia Clough, _Feminist Thought_ , Oxford, Blackwell, 1994.  Julia Kristeva, 'Women's Time' (1979), trans. Alice Jardine and Harry Blake, _Signs_ vol. 7, no. 1, 1981, p. 33.  Toril Moi, _Sexual\/Textual Politics, Feminist Literary Theory_ , New York, Methuen, 1985, p. 13.  Sheila Rowbotham, _Threads through Time: Writings on History and Autobiography'_ , London, Penguin, 1999, pp. 4, 2.  Sheila Rowbotham, _Dreams and Dilemmas_ , London, Virago, p. 354; emphasis added.  Ibid., pp. x, 351.  Ibid., p. 351.  Sheila Rowbotham, 'How to Get Your Man: _The Female Eunuch_ by Germaine Greer', in Oz, vol. 31, Nov.\u2013Dec. 1970, p. 19.  Sally Alexander and Barbara Taylor, 'In Defence of Patriarchy', in _People's History and Socialist Theory_ , ed. Raphael Samuel, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1981.  Rowbotham, _Dreams and Dilemmas_ , pp. 353, 2.  Sheila Rowbotham, _Woman's Consciousness, Man's World_ , Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973, pp. 34, _66._  Rowbotham, _Dreams and Dilemmas_ , p. 83.  Ibid., pp. 59, 75.  Ibid., pp. 32\u20133.  Joan Scott, 'Experience', in _Feminists Theorize the Political_ , ed. Butler and Scott.  Rowbotham, _Woman's Consciousness, Man's World_ , p. 27.  Ibid., p. x. Rowbotham prefers, as she writes in 1972, the idea of 'consciousness moving' to 'consciousness raising', since 'your own perception is continually being shifted by how other women perceive what has happened to them.... The main difficulty, still, is that while the social composition of women's liberation remains narrow it isn't possible to move naturally beyond certain limitations in perspective', Rowbotham, _Dreams and Dilemmas_ , p. 59.  Rowbotham, _Dreams and Dilemmas_ , pp. 74, 208, 218.  Ibid., p. 83.  Ibid., p. 82.  Elizabeth Wilson, _Women and the Welfare State_ , London, Tavistock, 1977; Mary McIntosh, 'The State and the Oppression of Women', in _Feminism and Materialism: Women and Modes of Production_ , ed. Annette Kuhn and AnnMarie Wolpe, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978. Some later commentators, though sympathetic to the accounts of the state provided in this writing, would suggest, I think correctly, that they diminished the intrinsically male-dominated structures, practices and discourses of the many differing sectors of the state. See S. Franzway, D. Court and R. W. Connell, _Staking a Claim: Feminism, Bureacracy and the State_ , London, Paladin, 1989.  Mich\u00e8le Barrett and Mary McIntosh, _The Anti-Social Family_ , London, Verso, 1982.  Sheila Rowbotham, _The Past Is before Us: Feminism in Action since the 1960s_ , London, Pandora, 1989.  As Jo Freeman argued, from her own personal experience, in her widely read and frequently anthologized 'The Tryanny of Structure-lessness', _The Second Wave_ , vol. 2, no. 1, 1972.  Muriel Dimen, 'In the Zone of Ambivalence: A Journal of Competition', in _In Feminist Nightmares: Women at Odds_ , ed. Susan Weisser and Jennifer Fleishner, New York, New York University Press, 1994, p. 362.  Joan Nestle, 'A Ferns Feminist History', in _Feminist Memoir Project_ , ed. DuPlessis and Snitow, p. 345.  Valerie Amos, Gail Lewis, Amina Mama and Pratibha Parmar, 'Editorial: Many Voices, One Chant: Black Feminist Perspectives, _Feminist Review_ 17, Autumn 1984.  Barbara Smith '\"Feisty Characters\" and \"Other People's Causes'\", in _Feminist Memoir Project_ , ed. DuPlessis and Snitow, p. 481.  Vivian Gornick, 'What Feminism Means to Me', in ibid., p. 374.  Ellen Willis, 'My Memoir Problem', in ibid., p. 483.  Melissa Benn, 'Women and Democracy: Thoughts on the Last Ten Years', _Women: A Cultural Review_ , vol. 4, no. 3, 1993, p. 237.  Rowbotham, _Threads Through Time_ , p. 4.  Alix Kates Shulman, 'A Marriage Disagreement, or Marriage by Other Means', in _Feminist Memoir Project_ , ed. DuPlessis and Snitow, p. 291.  Arlie Russell Hochschild, _The Second Shift_ , New York, Viking, 1989; _The Time Bind: When Work Becomes Home and Home Becomes Work_ , New York, Henry Holt\/Metropolitan Books, 1997.  Lynne Segal, _Is the Future Female?: Troubled Thoughts on Contemporary Feminism_, London, Virago, 1987.  Catharine MacKinnon, _Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law_ , London, Harvard University Press, 1987, p. 149.  Ann Snitow, 'Retrenchment vs. Transformation: The Politics of the Antipornography Movement', ed. K. Ellis et al., in _Caught Looking: Feminism Pornography and Censorship_ , New York, Caught Looking, Inc., 1986.  Lisa Duggan and Nan Hunter, _Sex Wars: Sexual Dissent and Political Culture_ , London, Routledge, 1995.  'I do not consider my work to be \"postmodern\"', Butler writes, in _Feminist Contentions_ , ed. Benhabib et al., p. 133.  H\u00e9l\u00e8ne Cixous, 'The Laugh of the Medusa', in _New French Feminism_ , ed. E. Marks and I. de Courtivron, New York, Schoken Books, 1981, p. 256.  Cixous, ibid.; Luce Irigaray, _This Sex which Is Not One_ , Ithaca, NY, Cornell University Press, 1985, p. 32.  See, for example, Laura Kipnis, 'Looks Good on Paper: Marxism and Feminism in a Postmodern World', in _Ecstasy Unlimited: On Sex, Capital, Gender, and Aesthetics_ , Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1993.  Lynne Segal, 'Whose Left? Socialism, Feminism and the Future', _New Left Review_ , no. 185, Jan.-Feb. 1991.  For imaginative political appropriations of 'French feminism' see, for example, Drucilla Cornell, _Beyond Accommodation: Ethical Feminism, Deconstruction and the Law_ , London, Routledge, 1991; Moira Gatens, _Imaginary Bodies: Ethics, Power and Corporeality_ , London, Routledge, 1996.  Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, 'French Feminism in an International Frame', _Yale French Studies_ , vol. 62, 1981, pp. 154\u201384; reprinted in Spivak, _In Other Worlds_ , London, Routledge, 1988; Barbara Christian, 'The Race for Theory', in _Gender and Theory: Dialogues on Feminist Criticism_ , ed. Linda Kauffman, Oxford, Basil Blackwell, 1989; Deborah McDowell, 'The \"Practice\" of \"Theory\", in _Feminism Beside Itself_ , ed. Elam and Weigman.  See, for example, Alice Jardine, 'Men in Feminism: Odor di Uomo or Compagnons de Route?', in _Men in Feminism_ , ed. Alice Jardine and Paul Smith, London, Methuen, 1987, p. 58.  Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, _Outside in the Teaching Machine_ , London, Routledge, 1993, p. 4.  See, for example, Denise Riley, _Am I That Name?: Feminism and the Subject of 'Women' in History_ , London, Macmillan, 1988.  Donna Haraway, 'A Manifesto for Cyborgs: Science, Technology, and Socialist Feminism in the 1980s', in _Feminism\/Postmodernism_ , ed. L. Nicholson, London, Routledge, 1990, pp. 197, 215.  Ibid., p. 215.  Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, 'Remembering the Limits: Difference, Identity and Practice', in _Socialism and the Limits of Liberalism_ , ed. Peter Osborne, London, Verso, 1991, p. 229; emphasis in original.  Judith Butler, _Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity_ , London, Routledge, 1990, p. 33. For critiques see Amanda Anderson, 'Debatable Performances: Restaging Contentious Feminisms', _Social Text_ , 54, vol. 16, no. 1, Spring, 1998; Tania Modleski, _Feminism without Women: Culture and Criticism in a \"Postfeminist\" Age_ , London, Routledge, 1991.  Butler, in _Feminist Contentions_ , ed. Benhabib et al., p. 131; See also Butler, _Bodies that Matter: On the Discursive Limits of Sex_ , London, Routledge, 1993, p. 231; see also Peter Osborne and Lynne Segal, 'Gender as Performance: An Interview with Judith Butler', _Radical Philosophy_ , 67, Summer, 1994; reprinted in _A Critical Sense: Interviews with Intellectuals_ , ed. Osborne, London, Routledge, 1996.  See, for example, Gregor McLennan, 'Feminism, Epistemology and Postmodernism: Reflections on Current Ambivalence', _Sociology_ , vol. 29, no. 3, August 1995, pp. 391\u2013401.  See, for example, Nancy Fraser, 'From Redistribution to Recognition? Dilemmas of Justice in a \"Post-Socialist\" Age', _New Left Review_ , no. 212, July-August, 1995. For a discussion and critique of Fraser, see Judith Butler, 'Merely Cultural', _Social Text_ , vol. 15, nos 3\u20134, Fall\u2013Winter, 1997.  Terry Eagleton, _The Illusions of Postmodernism_ , Oxford, Blackwell, 1996, p. 22.  Anne Phillips, _Democracy and Difference_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1993, p. 7.  See Sheila Rowbotham, _Women in Movement: Feminism and Social Action_ , London, Routledge, 1992, pp. 8\u201315.  See Julie Peters and Andrea Wolper, eds, _Women's Rights Human Rights: International Feminist Perspectives_ , London, Routledge, 1995.  See Suzanne Gibson, 'On Sex, Horror and Human Rights', _Women: A Cultural Review_ , vol. 4, no. 3. Winter, 1993, Laura Flanders, 'Hard Cases and Human Rights: C. MacKinnon in the City of Freud', _The Nation_ , 9\u201316 August 1993, pp. 174\u20137. For a stimulating commentary on the challenge of human rights internationalism to the recent philosophical embrace of a 'politics of difference', see Bruce Robbins, 'Sad Stories in the International Public Sphere: Richard Rorty on Culture and Human Rights', _Public Culture_ , vol. 9, no. 2, Winter, 1997.  Rosemary Pringle and Sophie Watson, '\"Women's Interests\" and the Post-Structuralist State' in _Destabilizing Theory_ , ed. Barrett and Phillips, p. 65.  Jonathan R\u00e9e, quoted in Francis Mulhern, _The Present Lasts a Long Time: Essays in Cultural Politics_, Cork, Cork University Press, 1998, p. 5.\n\n### Chapter 2 Gender to Queer, and Back Again\n\n According to the feminist historian Joan Wallach Scott, _Gender and the Politics of History_ , New York, Columbia University Press, 1988, p. 29.  Simone de Beauvoir, _The Second Sex_ [1949], New York, Vintage Press, 1973, p. 301.  Ann Oakley, _Sex, Gender and Society_ , London, Temple Smith, 1972, p. 170.  Jane Chetwynd and Oonagh Hartnett, _The Sex Role System: Psychological and Sociological Perspectives_ , London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978.  Vivian Gornick and Barbara K. Moran, 'Introduction', in _Women in Sexist Society: Studies in Power and Powerlessness_ , ed. Gornick and Moran, New York, Basic Books, 1971, p. xxiv.  Sandra L. Bern, 'The Measurement of Psychological Androgyny', _Journal of Clinical Consulting Psychology_ , vol. 42, 1974; Bern, 'Sex Role Adaptability: One Consequence of Psychological Androgyny', _Journal of Personality and Social Psychology_ , vol. 31, no. 4, 1975.  Sandra L. Bern, 'Gender Schema Theory: A Cognitive Account of Sex Typing', _Psychological Review_ , vol. 88, no. 4, 1981, pp. 354\u201364; Susanne Kessler and Wendy McKenna, _Gender: An Ethnomethodological Approach_ , New York, Wiley, 1978.  Gayle Rubin, 'The Traffic in Women: Notes on the \"Political Economy\" of Sex', in _Towards an Anthropology of Women_ , ed. R. Reiter, New York, Monthly Review Press, 1975.  Beauvoir, _The Second Sex_ , p. 16.  Monique Wittig, 'The Mask of Gender', in _The Poetics of Gender_ , ed. Nancy K. Miller, New York, Columbia University Press, 1986, p. 66.  Elaine Showalter, 'Introduction: The Rise of Gender', in _Speaking of Gender_ , ed. E. Showalter, London, Routledge, 1989, p. 1.  Robert Stoller, _Sex and Gender_ , London, Hogarth Press, 1968.  See Susan Coates and Kenneth Zucker, 'Gender Identity Disorder in Children', in _Clinical Assessment of Children: A Biosocial Approach_ , ed. C. J. Kestenbaum and D. T. Williams, New York, New York University Press, 1988.  Joan Wallach Scott, 'Is Gender a Useful Category of Historical Analysis', in Scott, _Gender and Politics._  Jane Flax, _Disputed Subjects: Essays on Psychoanalysis, Politics and Philosophy_ , London, Routledge, 1993, p. 23.  R. W. Connell, _Gender and Power_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1987.  Ann Snitow, 'Feminism and Motherhood: An American Reading', _Feminist Review_ , no. 40, Spring, 1992, pp. 32\u201351.  Shulamith Firestone, _The Dialect of Sex: The Case for Feminist Revolution_ , New York, Morrow, 1970.  See Sheila Rowbotham, _The Past Is before Us: Feminism in Action since the 1960s_ , London, Pandora, 1989, esp. chapters 2 and 7.  Jane Alpert, 'Mother Right: A New Feminist Theory', _Ms._ , August 1973, pp. 52\u20135.  Adrienne Rich, _Of Women Born_ , London, Virago, 1977, p. 285.  Adrienne Rich, 'Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence', _Signs_ , vol. 5, no. 4, Summer, 1980.  Nancy Chodorow, _The Reproduction of Mothering: Psychoanalysis and the Sociology of Gender_ , Berkeley, University of California Press, 1978.  Jane Flax, 'Theorizing Motherhood', _Women's Review of Books_ , vol. 1, no. 9, 1984, p. 13.  Carol Gilligan, _In a Different Voice_ , London, Harvard University Press, 1982; Mary Belenky et al., _Women's Ways of Knowing: The Development of Self, Voice and Mind_ , New York, Basic Books, 1986.  Catharine MacKinnon, _Feminism Unmodified: Discourses on Life and Law_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1987, p. 3.  Ibid., pp. 219, 61.  Germaine Greer, _The Whole Woman_ , London, Transworld, 1999.  Sylvia Ann Hewlett, _A Lesser Life: The Myth of Women's Liberation in America_ , New York, William Morrow, 1986.  Audre Lorde, 'An Open Letter to Mary Daly', in _This Bridge Called my Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color_ , ed. C. Moraga and G. Anzaldua, Watertown, Mass., Persephone Press, 1981, p. 95; Alice Walker, 'One Child of One's Own: A Meaningful Digression within the Works', in _The Writer on her Work_ , ed. J. Sterburg, New York, W. W. Norton, 1980, p. 136.  Barbara Smith, 'Racism and Women's Studies', in _All the Women are White, All the Blacks are Men, But some of Us are Brave_ , ed. G. Hull, P. B. Scott and B. Smith, New York, Feminist Press, 1982, p. 49.  Gloria Anzaldua, _Borderlands\/La Frontera: The New Mestiza_ , San Francisco, Spinsters\/Aunt Lute, 1987.  Valerie Amos and Pratibha Parma, 'Challenging Imperial Feminism', _Feminist Review_ , no. 17, July 1984, p. 4.  Chandra Mohanty, 'Under Western Eyes: Feminist Scholarship and Colonial Discourses', in _Third World Women and the Politics of Feminism_ , ed. C. Mohanty, A. Russo and L. Torres, Bloomington, University of Indiana Press, 1991, pp. 51\u201380.  This equation occurs in the preface of a collection in which Chandra Mohanty worries that the post-modern critique of identity can mean the dissolution of the category of race, at the expense of a recognition of racism, while attention to differences can mean 'the generation of discourses of diversity and pluralism which are grounded in an apolitical, often individualized identity polities'. Mich\u00e8lle Barrett and Anne Phillips, 'Preface and Acknowledgements', _Destabilizing Theory: Contemporary Feminist Debates_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1992, p. viii; Chandra Talpole Mohanty, 'Feminist Encounters: Locating the Politics of Experience', in ibid., p. 75.  Joseph Bristow and Angela Wilson, 'Introduction', in _Activating Theory: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual Politics_ , ed. Bristow and Wilson, London, Lawrence & Wishart, 1993, p. 2.  Jacques Derrida, _Writing and Difference_ , London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1978.  Jacques Lacan, 'God and the _Jouissance_ of Woman: A Love Letter', as translated and reprinted in _Feminine Sexuality: Jacques Lacan and the Ecole Freudienne_ , ed. J. Mitchell and J. Rose, London, Macmillan, 1982, pp. 137\u201360.  Jacqueline Rose, 'Femininity and its Discontents', _Sexuality in the Field of Vision_ , London, Verso, 1986, p. 91.  Gayatri Chakravorty Spivak, 'French Feminism in an International Frame', _Yale French Studies_ , vol. 62, 1981, pp. 154\u201384; reprinted in In _Other Worlds_ , London, Routledge, 1987.  Mary Jacobus, 'Freud's Mnemonic: Women Screen Memories, and Feminist Nostalgia', _Michigan Quarterly Review_ , vol. 26, no. 1, 1987, p. 118.  Drucilla Cornell, 'Rethinking the Time of Feminism', in _Feminist Contentions: A Philosophical Exchange_ , ed. Seyla Benhabib et al., London, Routledge, 1995, p.147.  Rita Felski, 'The Doxa of Difference', _Signs_ , vol. 23, no. 1, Autumn, 1997.  Ibid., p. 6.  Channel 4, 'Voices', 3 May 1984, cited in Ann Rosalind Jones, 'Julia Kristeva on Femininity: The Limits of Semiotic Polities', _Feminist Review_ , no. 18, Nov. 1984, p. 56.  Luce Irigaray, from _Je, tu, nous_ , cited in Toril Moi, _Simone de Beauvoir: The Maling of an Intellectual Woman_ , Oxford, Blackwell, 1994, p. 183.  Lynne Segal, _Slow Motion: Changing Masculinities, Changing Men_ , London, Virago, 1990, 1997. My examination of men and masculinity is grounded in this type of analysis.  Rosi Braidotti, with Judith Butler (interview), 'Feminism by any Other Name', _Differences_ , vol. 6, nos 2\u20133, Summer-Fall, 1994, pp. 47, 51, 54.  See Linda Alcoff, 'Cultural Feminism versus Post-Structuralism: The Identity Crisis in Feminist Theory', _Signs_ , vol. 13, no. 3, Spring, 1988.  Ann Snitow, 'A Gender Diary', in _Conflicts in Feminism_ , ed. M. Hirsch and E. Fox Keller, London, Routledge, 1990, p. 19.  Ibid., pp. 9, 36.  Denise Riley, _Am I that Name?: Feminism and the Category of 'Women' in History_ , London, Macmillan, 1988, p. 5.  As in Felski's conclusion to 'The Doxa of Difference', p. 19.  Gayle Rubin, 'Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality', in _Pleasure and Danger: Exploring Female Sexuality_ , ed. C. Vance, London, Routledge, 1984.  Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, _Epistemology in the Closet_ , Berkeley, University of California Press, 1991, p. 34.  Henry Abelove, Michele Barale and David Halperin, _Lesbian and Gay Studies Reader_ , London, Routledge, 1993, p. xv.  Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick, _Tendencies_ , London, Routledge, 1994, p. 8.  Ken Plummer, 'Speaking its Name', in _Modern Homosexualities: Fragments of Lesbian and Gay Experience_ , ed. Ken Plummer, London, Routledge, 1992, p. 3.  For example, see _Inside Out\/Outside In: Lesbian Theories, Gay Theories_ , ed. Diana Fuss, London, Routledge, 1992.  Michel Foucault, _The History of Sexuality_ , vol. 1, London, Allen Lane, 1979, p. 70.  Judith Butler, _Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity_ , London, Routledge, 1990.  Ibid., p. 33.  Monique Wittig, _The Straight Mind_ , London, Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1992.  Butler, _Gender Trouble_ , p. 31.  Ibid., p. 136.  See Peter Osborne and Lynne Segal, 'Gender as Performance: An Interview with Judith Butler', _Radical Philosophy_ , vol. 67, Summer, 1994; reprinted in _A Critical Sense: Interviews with Intellectuals_ , ed. Osborne, London, Routledge, 1996. Butler criticizes the idea that one can voluntaristically construct and deconstruct identities via transgressive performance in her next book, _Bodies that Matter: The Discursive Limits of Sex_ , London, Routledge, 1993.  See Segal, _Straight Sex_ , chapters 2 and 6; see also _Pleasure and Danger_ , ed. Vance.  See Ti-Grace Atkinson, _Amazon Odyssey: Collection of Writings_ , New York, Links Books, 1974.  Cindy Patton, 'Stonewall is a State of Mind', _Z Magazine_ , Nov. 1989, p. 106.  Quoted in Osborne and Segal, _Critical Sense_ , p. 34.  Joan Nestle, _A Restricted Country_ , Ithaca, NY, Fireband Press, 1987.  Baukje Prins, 'How Bodies Come to Matter: An Interview with Judith Butler', _Signs_ , vol. 23, no. 2, 1998, p. 277.  Michael Warner, 'Introduction', in _Fear of a Queer Planet: Queer Politics and Social Theory_ , ed. Warner, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1993, p. xxvi.  See Susan Bordo, _Unbearable Weight: Feminism, Western Culture and the Body_ , Berkeley, University of California Press, 1993; Kathy Davis, ed., _Embodied Practices: Feminist Perspectives on the Body_ , London, Sage, 1997.  Kate Bornstein, _Gender Outlaw: On Men, Women, and the Rest of Us_ , London, Routledge, 1994, p. 118.  Kate Bornstein, 'Transsexual Lesbian Playwright Tells All!', in _High Risk_ , ed. Amy Scholder and Ira Silverberg, London, Serpent's Tail, 1991, p. 261.  Anne Bolin, 'Transcending and Transgendering: Male-to-Female Transsexuals, Dichotomy and Diversity', in _Third Sex, Third Gender: Beyond Sexual Dimorphism in Culture and History_ , ed. Gilbert Herdt, New York, Zone Books, 1994, pp. 447\u201386.  Mari Jo Buhle, _Feminism and its Discontents: A Century of Struggle with Psychoanalysis_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1988, p. 349.  Judith Halberstam, 'Mackdaddy, Superfly, Rapper: Gender, Race and Masculinity in the Drag King Scene', _Social Text_ , 52\/3, vol. 15, nos 3\u20134, Fall\/Winter, 1997.  As Marjorie Garber, for instance, so skilfully depicts in her book _Vested Interests: Cross Dressing and Cultural Anxiety_ , London, Routledge, 1992.  Segal, _Straight Sex_ , chapter 5.  Mandy Merck, 'Figuring Out Andy Warhol', in _Pop Out: Queer Warhol_ , ed. Jennifer Doyle et al., London and Durham, NC, Duke University Press, 1996, p. 234.  Roger Lancaster, 'Transgenderism in Latin America: Some Critical Introductory Remarks on Identities and Practices', _Sexualities_ , vol. 1, no. 3, 1998, p. 263.  Marlon Riggs, 1992, quoted in Suzanna Walters, 'From Here to Queer: Radical Feminism, Postmodernism, and the Lesbian Menace (or, Why Can't a Woman Be More Like a Fag?)', _Signs_ , vol. 21, no. 4, Summer, 1996, p. 843.  In Osborne and Segal, _Critical Sense_ , p. 111.  Judith Butler, 'Afterword', _Sexualities_ , vol. 1, no. 3, 1998, p. 359.  Lancaster, 'Transgenderism', p. 266.  Arthur Kroker and Marilouise Kroker, 'Introduction', _The Last Sex: Feminism and Outlaw Bodies_ , ed. Kroker and Kroker, New York, St Martin's Press, 1993, p. 15. See also Halberstam, 'Mackdaddy'.  See Garber, _Vested Interests_ , p. 98. For the fullest illustration of queer theorists lining up on different sides of this debate, see Jay Prosser, _Second Skins: The Body Narratives of Transsexuality_ , New York, Columbia University Press, 1998, pp. 6\u201317.  Prosser, _Second Skins_ , p. 11.  Decca Aitkenhead, 'A Life More Ordinary', _The Guardian 2, 27_ August 1998, p. 3.  The research being quoted here, by Aitkenhead (ibid.), comes from Dick Swaab (at the Netherlands Institute for Brain Research in Amsterdam), who dissected the brains in autopsies of six transsexuals, reporting that in a tiny section of the hypothalamus no bigger than a pinhead, the BSTc, the size of the dead transsexual tissue was slightly smaller than that of an average woman and definitely smaller than that of an average man. Dick F. Swaab et al., 'Sexual Differentiation of the Human Hypothalamus: Differences according to Sex, Sexual Orientation, and Transsexuality', in _Sexual Orientation: Towards Biological Understanding_ , ed. Lee Ellis and Linda Ebertz, Westport, Conn., Praeger, 1997. Were one less in tune with the ideological underpinning of all this (biology alone holds the key to all things), one would certainly wonder at the bizarre leap to a causal explanation of transsexuality from this particular correlation, especially knowing the enormous levels of oestrogen hormones consumed by transsexuals, the levels of stress in their lives, and so on. For a report on this research see Kathleen Hayden, 'Researchers Discover a Biological Basis for Transsexuality', _Time Magazine_ , Vol. 146, November 1995, no. 20.  Alan Sinfield, _Gay and After_ , London, Serpent's Tail, 1998, p. 163.  Adam Phillips, On _Flirtation_ , London, Faber & Faber, 1994, p. 124.  Sukie la Croix, quoted in Jonathan Dollamore, 'Bisexuality', in _Lesbian and Gay Studies: A Critical Introduction_ , ed. Andy Medhurst and Sally Munt, London, Cassell, 1997, p. 252.  Prosser, _Second Skins_ , pp. 11\u201312. For another interesting analysis of the politics of transgenderism and the dilemmas of transsexuality, see Pat Califia, _Sex Changes: The Politics of Transgenderism_ , San Francisco, Cleis Press, 1997.  Jean Baudrillard, 'Transpolitics, Transexuality, Transaesthetics', in _The Disappearance of Art and Politics_ , ed. W. Stearns and W. Chaloupka, New York, St Martin's Press, 1992, pp. 20\u20132. (I thank Mandy Merck for drawing my attention to this particular text.)  Simon Watney, 'Lesbian and Gay Studies in the Age of AIDS', in _Lesbian and Gay Studies_ , ed. Medhurst and Munt, p. 369.  Ibid., p. 381.  Dennis Altman, 'The Uses and Abuses of Queer Studies', in _Gay and Lesbian Perspectives IV: Studies in Australian Culture_ , ed. Robert Aldrich and Garry Wotherspoon, Australian Centre for Lesbian and Gay Research, University of Sydney, 1998, p. 17.  Suzanna Walters, 'From Here to Queer', p. 856.  Barbara Smith, quoted in Walters, ibid., p. 864.  Elizabeth Wilson, 'Is Transgression Transgressive', in _Activating Theory_ , ed. Bristow and Wilson, p. 116; see also R. W. Connell, 'Bodies, Intellectuals and World Society', Plenary address to the British Sociological Association Annual Conference _Making Sense of the Body: Theory, Research and Practice_ , Edinburgh, April 1998 (publication forthcoming).  Sinfield, _Gay and After_ , p. 198.  Virginia Goldner, 'Towards a Critical Relational Theory of Gender', _Psychoanalytic Dialogues_ , vol. 1, no. 3, 1991, p. 251.  Ibid., p. 268.  Butler, in Osborne and Segal, _Critical Sense_ , p. 113.  Connell, 'Bodies'; emphasis added.  Muriel Dimen, 'Deconstructing Difference: Gender, Splitting, and Transitional Space, _Psychoanalytic Dialogues_ , vol. 1, no. 3, 1991, p. 349.  Martha Nussbaum writes that the economist Amartya Sen always began his economics courses by referring to these 100 million 'missing women' in her article, 'Through the Prism of Gender: How New Scholarship about Women's Lives is Changing our Understanding of the Past \u2013 and the Present', _Times Literary Supplement_ , 20 March 1998, p. 3.  Jacqueline Zita, _Body Talk: Philosophical Reflections on Sex and Gender_ , New York, Columbia University Press, 1998, p. 108.  Gayle Rubin with Judith Butler, 'Sexual Traffic', _More Gender Trouble: Feminism Meets Queer Theory_ , special issue of _Differences_ , vol. 6, nos 2\u20133, 1994, p. 97.  This is Butler's primary theme in her essay 'Against Proper Objects', _Differences_ , vol. 6, nos 2\u20133, 1994.  Rubin, 'Sexual Traffic', p. 97.  See Debra Haffner, 'What's Wrong With Abstinence-Only Sexuality Education Programs', _Siecus Reports_ , vol. 25, no. 4, April-May 1997.  Suan Flinn, 'The Clinton Administration's Adolescent Pregnancy Prevention Program: Ignorance Does Not Equal Abstinence', _Siecus Report_ , vol. 25, no. 4, April-May 1997, p. 18.  Martin Bright, 'UK Eyes Dutch Sex Lessons', _The Observer_ , 21 February 1999, p. 12.  Reported in the excellent overview by Judith Levine, 'How we're Hurting Children by Protecting them for Sex', in Levine, _Harmful to Minors_ , forthcoming.  Ibid.  Bright, 'Dutch Sex Lessons', p. 21.  Many of these have been scripted by women, for example, the many television dramas in the manner of Nanette Newman's _Bouquet of Barbed Wire._  Kessler estimates that between 1 and 2 per cent of infants at birth could be characterized as 'intersexed', in Suzanne Kessler, _Lessons from the Intersexed_ , New Brunswick, NJ, Rutgers University Press, 1998, p. 135. These include females with a large clitoris, fused labia or diminutive vaginas; males with a micropenis, unusual urethral opening; individuals with aberrant genitals, gonads or chromosomes from either sex, insofar as they can be assigned a sex.  Ken Plummer, 'Introduction', in _Modern Homosexualities_ , ed. Plummer, pp. 14\u201315.  John Gagnon, 'Commentary on \"Towards a Critical Relational Theory of Gender\" ', _Psychoanalytic Dialogues_ , vol. 1, no. 3, 1991, p. 274.  Biddy Martin, 'Extraordinary Homosexuals and the Fear of Being Ordinary', _Differences_ , vol. 6, nos 2\u20133, Summer-Fall, 1994, p. 103.\n\n### Chapter 3 Genes and Gender: The Return to Darwin\n\n Robert Wright, 'Feminists Meet Mr. Darwin', _New Republic_ , 28 November 1994, pp. 34\u20136.  Andrew Ross, _The Chicago Gangster Theory of Life: Nature's Debt to Society_ , London, Verso, 1994, p. 15.  Roland Barthes, _Mythologies_ [1957], London, Paladin, 1973.  Richard Dawkins, _Unweaving the Rainbow_ , London, Penguin, 1998, p. 29.  Ross, _Chicago Gangster_ , for one.  In Colin Hughes, 'The Guardian Profile, Richard Dawkins: The Man who Knows the Meaning of Life', _The Guardian: Saturday Review_ , 3 October 1998, p. 6.  _Matters of Life and Death: Demos Quarterly_ , no. 10, London, Demos Publications, 1996.  A latter-day Leavisite would, however, perhaps feel driven to cross sides and join forces with his old enemy, who at least retains some categorical faith in universal truths. C. P. Snow, _The Two Cultures_ , [1962], reprinted Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1993.  See Daniel Kevles, _In the Name of Eugenics: Genetics and the Uses of Human Heredity_ , New York, Alfred Knopf, 1985; Hilary Rose, 'Moving on from both State and Consumer Eugenics?, in _Nature at the Millennium_ , ed. Noel Castree and Bruce Willis, London, Routledge, 1998.  Anne Fausto-Sterling, 'Sex and the Single Brain', in Fausto-Sterling, _Myths of Gender: Biological Theories about Women and Men_ , rev. edn, New York, Basic Books, 1992, p. 179.  Charles Darwin, _The Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection_ [1859]; Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1968, p. 460.  Ibid., p. 435, where Darwin recapitulates the arguments of his book. See also Stephen Jay Gould, _Life's Grandeur: The Spread of Excellence from Plato to Darwin_ , London, Jonathan Cape, 1996, p. 137.  Karl Marx, 'Introduction', _Grundrisse_ [1857], trans. Martin Nicolaus, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1973, p. 105.  Quoted in Steve Jones, _New York Review of Books_ , 6 Nov. 1997, p. 13.  Darwin, _Origin of Species_ , pp. 130\u20135.  Ibid., p. 136.  R. Dawkins and J. R. Krebs, 'Arms Races between and within Species', _Proceedings of the Royal Society of London Bulletin_ , vol. 295, 1979, pp. 489\u2013511.  Robert Wright, 'The Dissent of Woman: What Feminists can Learn from Darwinism', in _Matters of Life and Death: Demos Quarterly_ , no. 10, 1996, p. 23, adapted from 'Feminists Meet Mr. Darwin'.  Ibid., p. 22.  Robert Wright, _The Moral Animal: Why We Are the Way We Are: The New Science of Evolutionary Psychology_ , New York, Pantheon, 1994.  Anne Fausto-Sterling, Patricia Adair Gowaty and Marlene Zuck, 'Review Essay: Evolutionary Psychology and Darwinian Feminism', _Feminist Studies_ , vol. 23, no. 2, Summer, 1997, pp. 403\u201317, (404).  E. O. Wilson, _Sociobiology: The New Synthesis_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1975; Richard Dawkins, _The Selfish Gene_ , Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1976, David Barash, _The Whisperings Within: Evolution and the Origins of Human Nature_ , New York, Harper & Row, 1979; Donald Symons, _The Evolution of Human Sexuality_ , New York, Oxford University Press, 1979.  Quoted in Dorothy Nelkin, 'The Social Power of Genetic Information', in _The Code of Codes: Scientific and Social Issues in the Human Genome Project_ , ed. D. Kevles and L. Hood, Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1992, p. 181.  Robert Trivers, 'Parent-Offspring Conflict', _American Zoologist_ , no. 14, 1974, p. 249.  Dawkins, _Selfish Gene_ , pp. 153, 162; emphasis added.  E. O. Wilson, _On Human Nature_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1978, pp. 552, 553.  Randy Thornhill and N. Thornhill, 'Human Rape: An Evolutionary Analysis', _Ethology and Sociobiology_ , vol. 4, 1983, p. 141; see also Thornhill et al., 'The Biology of Rape', in _Rape_ , ed. S. Tomaselli and R. Porter, Oxford, Blackwell, 1986.  Barash, _Whisperings_ , p. 54.  Symons, _Human Sexuality_ , p. 285.  M. Sahlins, _The Use and Abuse of Biology_ , London, Tavistock, 1977; Ashley Montague, ed., _Sociobiology Examined_ , Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1980; Dialectics of Biology Group, ed., _Against Biological Determinism_ , London, Alison & Busby, 1982; Dialectics of Biology Group, ed., _Towards a Liberatory Biology_ , London, Alison & Busby, 1982; Ruth Hubbard et al., eds, _Biological Woman: The Convenient Myth_ , Boston, Shenkman, 1982; R. C. Lewontin, Steven Rose and Leon Kamin, eds, _Not in Our Genes_ , Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1984; Lynda Birke and Jonathan Silverton, eds, _More than the Parts: Biology and Politics_ , London, Pluto Press, 1984; Ruth Bleier, _Science and Gender: A Critique of Biology and its Views of Women_ , Oxford, Pergamon, 1984.  Ross, _Chicago Gangster_ , p. 239.  See Rose, 'State and Consumer Eugenics?'; Daniel Kevles, 'Out of Eugenics: The Historical Politics of the Human Genome', in Kevles and Hood, _Human Genome Project_ , pp. 18\u201336.  John Archer, 'Sex Differences in Social Behavior: Are the Social Role and Evolutionary Explanations Compatible?', _American Psychologist_ , vol. 51, no. 9, Sept. 1996, pp. 909\u201317, (909, 914).  John Tooby and Leda Cosmides, 'The Psychological Foundations of Culture', in _The Adapted Mind: Evolutionary Psychology and the Generation of Culture_ , ed. Jerome Barkow, Leda Cosmides, and John Tooby, New York, Oxford University Pess, 1992, p. 49; David Buss, 'Evolutionary Psychology: A New Paradigm for Social Science', _Psychological Inquiry_ , vol. 6, 1995, pp. 1\u201330.  Martin Daly and Margo Wilson, 'Homicidal Tendencies', in _Matters of Life and Death: Demos_ , no. 10, 1996, p. 44.  Reported in Henry Plotkin, _Evolution in Mind: An Introduction to Evolutionary Psychology_ , London, Penguin, 1997, p. 265.  Leda Cosmides, 'The Logic of Social Exchange: Has Natural Selection Shaped how Humans Reason?', _Cognition_ , vol. 31, 1989, pp. 187\u2013276; Barkow, Cosmides and Tooby, eds, _Adapted Mind;_ Buss, 'Evolutionary Psychology'; Steven Pinker, _How the Mind Works_ , London, Penguin, 1997.  Archer, 'Sex Differences', p. 916.  David Buss et al., 'Apatations, Exaptions, and Spandrels', _American Psychologist_ , vol. 53, no. 5, 1998, pp. 533\u201348 (535).  Ibid., p. 544.  David Buss, _The Evolution of Desire: Strategies of Human Mating_ , London, Harper Collins, 1994.  See Donald Symons and B. Ellis, 'Human Male-Female Differences in Sexual Desire', in _The Sociobiology of Sexual and Reproductive Strategies_ , ed. A. S. Rasa et al., New York, Oxford University Press, 1989, pp. 131\u201346. For a Darwinian account of male violence, see Martin Daly and Margo Wilson, _Homicide_ , New York, Aldine de Gruyter, 1988; David Buss, 'From Vigilance to Violences: Tactics of Mate Retention among American Undergraduates', _Ethology and Sociobiology_ , vol. 9, 1988, pp. 291\u2013317.  D. F. Einon, 'How Many Children Can One Man Have?, _Evolution and Human Behavior_ , vol. 19, 1998, pp. 413\u201326.  Daly and Wilson, _Homicide._  _Why Mothers Die: The Confidential Enquiry into Maternal Deaths_ , London, HMSO, Nov. 1998; reported in Sarah Boseley, 'Abuse Risk Higher during Pregnancy', _The Guardian_ , 24 Nov. 1998, p. 7.  H. Looren de Jong and W. J. Van Der Steen, 'Biological Thinking in Evolutionary Psychology: Rockbottom or Quicksand?', _Philosophical Psychology_ , vol. 11, no. 2, 1998, p. 196.  Noam Chomsky, _Powers and Prospects: Reflections on Human Nature and the Social Order_ , London, Pluto Press, 1996, p. 15.  Steve Jones, 'The Set Within the Skull: How the Mind Works', by Steven Pinker, _New York Review of Books_ , 6 November 1997, p. 14.  _Anatomy of Desire: Repression_ , Channel 4, 23 Nov. 1998, 10 p.m.  Leslie Zebrowitz, _Reading Faces: Window to the Soul_ , New York, Westview Press, 1997. I am grateful to Mandy Merck for drawing my attention to this research.  Tooby and Cosmides, in _Adapted Mind_ , p. 207.  Douglas Kenrick and Melanie Trost, 'The Evolutionary Perspective', in _The Psychology of Gender_ , ed. A. Beall and R. Sternberg, New York, Guilford Press, 1993, p. 150.  William Simon, _Postmodern Sexualities_ , London, Routledge, 1996; E. O. Lauman et al., _The Social Organization of Sexuality: Sexual Practices in the United States_ , Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1994.  Kenrick and Trost, 'Evolutionary Perspective', p. 164; emphasis added in first quotation.  Richard Lewontin, _Biology as Ideology: The Doctrine of DNA_ , London, Penguin, 1991, p. 121.  Linda Fedigan, _Primate Paradigms: Sex Roles and Social Bonds_ , Montreal, Eden Press, 1982.  Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, _The Woman that Never Evolved_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1981.  Meredith Small, _Female Choices: The Sexual Behavior of Female Primates_ , Ithaca, NY, Cornell University Press, 1993; _What's Love Got to Do with It?_ , New York, Anchor Books, 1995.  Jane Goodall, _The Chimpanzees of Gombe: Patterns of Behavior_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1986; Barbara Smuts, 'The Evolutionary Origins of Patriarchy', _Human Nature_ , vol. 6, 1995, pp. 1\u201332.  Barbara Smuts, 'Gender, Aggression and Influence', in _Primate Societies_ , ed. Smuts et al., Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1987.  Frans de Waal, _Good Natured: The Origins of Right and Wrong in Humans and Other Animals_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1997; R. Wrangham and D. Peterson, _Demonic Males, Apes and the Origins of Human Violence_ , Boston, Houghton Mifflin, 1996.  Louise B. Silverstein, 'New Directions for Evolutionary Psychology', _Feminism and Psychology_ , vol. 8, no. 3, 1998, p. 375.  Quoted in Fausto-Sterling et al., 'Evolutionary Psychology', p. 412.  Ruth Bleier, 'Introduction', in Bleier, _Feminist Approaches to Science_ , New York, Pergamon Press, 1986, p. 10.  Linda M. Fedigan, 'Science and the Successful Female: Why there Are so Many Women Primatologists', _American Anthropologist_ , vol. 96, 1994, pp. 529\u201340.  Richard Lee and Irven de Vore, eds, _Man the Hunter_ , Chicago, Aldine, 1968.  See Adrienne Zihlman, 'The Paleolithic Glass Ceiling', in _Women in Evolution_ , ed. Lori Hager, London, Routledge, 1997, esp. pp. 100\u20135.  Zihlman, ibid.; Linda M. Fedigan, 'Is Primatology a Feminist Science?' in _Women in Evolution_ , ed. Hager.  Fedigan, ibid., p. 67.  Susan Sperling, 'Baboons with Briefcases vs Langurs with Lipstick: Feminism and Functionalism in Primate Studies', in _The Gender Sexuality Reader_ , ed. Roger Lancaster and Micaela di Leonardo, London, Routledge, 1997, p. 256.  Dawkins, _Unweaving the Rainbow_ , p. 212.  Wright, 'Dissent of Woman', p. 19.  Iver Mysterud, 'Communicating Ideas about Humans and Evolutionary Theory', _Trends in Ecological Evolution_ , vol. 11, Feb. 1996, p. 310.  Robin Dunbar, _Grooming, Gossip and the Evolution of Language_ , London, Faber & Faber, 1996, pp. 79, 150.  Ibid., p. 184.  Ibid., p. 34; emphasis added.  Ibid., pp. 32, 143.  Pinker, _How the Mind Works_ , pp. 404, 429. For figures on perpetrators of child sexual abuse, see Jean La Fontaine, _Child Sexual Abuse_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1990, p. 121.  See Linda Fedigan, 'Is Primatology a Feminist Science?', in _Women in Human Evolution_ , ed. L. Hager, London, Routledge, 1997, p. 56.  Niles Eldredge, _Reinventing Darwin: The Great Debate at the High Table of Evolutionary Theory_ , New York, John Wiley, 1995; Steven Rose, _Lifelines: Biology, Freedom, Determinism_ , London, Penguin, 1997, p. 176.  Stephen Jay Gould, _New York Review of Books_ , 12 June 1997, p. 35.  Darwin, _Origin of Species_ , p. 435; N. Eldredge and Stephen Jay Gould, 'Punctuated Equilibria: An Alternative to Phylogenetic Gradualism', in _Models in Paleobiology_ , ed. T. Schopf, San Francisco, Freeman, Cooper & Co., 1972.  J. B. S. Haldane, 'The Interaction of Nature and Nurture', _Annals of Eugenics_ , no. 13, 1946, pp. 197\u2013205; Julian Huxley, _Evolution: The Modern Synthesis_ , London, George Allen & Unwin, 1942.  Richard Lewontin, 'Survival of the Nicest?' _New York Review of Books_ , 22 Oct. 1998, p. 60.  Dawkins, _Unweaving the Rainbow_ , pp. 20, 22.  Rose, _Lifelines_ , p. 246.  Reported in Robert Plomin, _Genetics and Experience: The Interplay between Nature and Nurture: Individual Differences and Development Series_ , vol. 6, London, Sage, 1994, p. 14.  Gould, _Life's Grandeur_ , p. 220.  Ibid.; R. C. Lewontin, _The Doctrine of DNA: Biology as Ideology_ , London, Penguin, 1993; Robert Brandon, _Adaptation and Environment_ , Princeton, Princeton University Press, 1990.  R. C. Richardson, 'The Prospects for an Evolutionary Psychology: Human Language and Human Reasoning', _Minds and Machines_ , vol. 6, 1996, pp. 541\u201377.  Rose, _Lifelines_ , p. 245.  David Fernbach, 'Biology and Gay Identity', in _New Left Review_ , no. 228, March\u2013April 1998, p. 34.  Nelkin, in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 182.  John Avise, _The Genetic Gods: Evolution and Belief in Human Affairs_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1998, p. vii.  Quoted in Kevles, _Eugenics_ , p. 18.  Walter Gilbert, 'A Vision of the Grail', in _Code of Codes_ , p. 83; ed. Kevles and Hood, James Watson, 'A Personal View of the Project', in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 165.  Ibid.  H. J. Eysenck, 'Emote Controls', _Times Higher Education Supplement_ , 17 May 1996, p. 24.  Heard on Greater London Radio, interview with Emma Freud, some time in 1986.  See P. McGuffin and R. Katz, 'Genes, Adversity and Depression', in _Nature, Nurture and Psychology_ , ed. R. Plomin and G. E. McClearn, Washington, DC, American Psychological Association, 1993.  See Fausto-Sterling, _Myths of Gender;_ Ruth Hubbard and Elijah Wald, _Exploding the Gene Myth_ , Boston, Beacon Press, 1993.  Watson, in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 167.  James Wyngaarden, 'Reflections', in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 357.  Ibid., pp. 300\u20133.  Quoted in Kevles, 'Out of Eugenics', p. 29.  Watson, in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 171.  Nancy Wexler, 'Clairvoyance and Caution: Repercussions from the Human Genome Project, in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 212.  Rose, _Lifelines_ , p. 116.  Lewontin, _Doctrine of DNA_ , p. 69; emphasis added.  Kevles, _Eugenics._  Ruth Hubbard and Elijah Wald, _The Ecologist_ , vol. 23, no. 5, Sept.\u2013Oct. 1993; see also Hubbard and Wald, _Exploding the Gene Myth_ , Boston, Beacon Press, 1993.  Wexler, in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 243.  Daniel Koshland, 'Sequences and Consequences of the Human Genome', _Science_ , vol. 146, 1989, p. 189.  Robert Plomin, _The Guardian_ , Feb. 1996, cited in Rose, _Lifelines_ , p. 275.  Steve Jones, 'Biology and Bile', reviewing _The Double Helix: James Watson'_ in _Prospect_ , March 1997, p. 63.  Ibid., p. 62.  See Edward Yoxen, 'Constructing Genetic Disease', in _Cultural Perspectives in Biological Knowledge_ , ed. Troy Duster and Karen Garett, Norwood, NJ, Ablex, 1984, pp. 41\u201362.  Evelyn Fox Keller, 'Nature, Nurture and the Human Genome Project', in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 297.  Plotkin, _Evolution in Mind_ , pp. 111, 231.  Dawkins, _Unweaving the Rainbow_ , pp. 302, 308.  Jones, 'Biology and Bile', p. 63.  Office of Technology Assessment, _Mapping Our Genes_ , quoted in Evelyn Fox Keller, 'Nature, Nurture, and the Human Genome Project', in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 295.  Watson, in _Code of Codes_ , ed. Kevles and Hood, p. 167.  Hubbard and Wald, _Exploding the Gene Myth_ , p. 91.  Daniel Kevles, 'Pursuing the Unpopular: A History of Courage, Viruses, and Cancer' in _Hidden Histories of Science_ , ed. Robert Silvers, London, Granta, 1997, p. 81.  M. Baron, 'Genetic Linkage and Male Homosexual Orientation: Reasons to be Cautious', _British Medical Journal_ , vol. 307, no. 7, 1994, pp. 337\u20138; A. Fausto-Sterling and E. Balaban, 'Genetics and Male Sexual Orientation', _Science_ , vol. 261, 1994, p. 1257.  James Harrison, 'Roles, Identities and Sexual Orientation: Homosexuality, Heterosexuality, and Bisexuality', in _A New Psychology of Men_ , ed. Ronald Levant and William Pollack, New York, Basic Books, p. 375.  Dean H. Hamer et al., 'A Linkage Between DN Markers on the X Chromosome and Male Sexual Orientation', _Science_ , vol. 261, no. 5119, 6 July 1993. See also Michael Bailey and Richard Pillard, 'A Genetic Study of Male Sexual Orientation', _Archives of General Psychiatry_ , vol. 48, 1991, pp. 1089\u201396.  Susan Sperling and Yewoubdar Beyene, 'A Pound of Biology and a Pinch of Culture or a Pinch of Biology and a Pound of Culture?: The Necessity of Integrating Biology and Culture in Reproductive Studies', in _Women in Evolution_ , ed. Hager, p. 145.  John Dupr\u00e9, _The Disorder of Things_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1993, p. 2.  Donna Haraway, 'A Manifesto for Cybourgs: Science, Technology and Socialist Feminism in the 1980s' in _Feminism\/Postmodernism_ , ed. Linda Nicholson, London, Routledge, 1990, p. 206.  Ibid., p. 223.  As Hilary Rose aptly summarizes, in _Nature at the Millennium_ , ed. Castree and Willis, p. 11.\n\n### Chapter 4 Psychic Life and its Scandals\n\n Steven Pinker, _How the Mind Works_ , London, Penguin, 1997, p. 563.  Quoted in Clifford Geertz, _After the Fact: Two Countries, Four Decades, One Anthropologist_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1995, p. 166.  Stuart Sutherland, 'Welcome to the Doll House', _Times Higher Education Supplement_ , 16 May 1997, p. 29.  Judith Rich Harris, _The Nature Assumption: Why Children Turn Out the Way They Do_ , London, Bloomsbury, 1998.  British Psychological Society, _Recovered Memories: The Report of the Working Party of the British Psychological Society_ , Leicester, British Psychological Society, 1995, p. 29.  See John Morton, 'Cognitive Perspectives on Recovered Memories', in _Recovered Memories of Abuse: True or False?_ , ed. Joseph Sandler and Peter Fonagy, London, Karnac Books, 1997, p. 58.  Jacqueline Rose, _States of Fantasy_ , Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1996, p. 144.  Frederick Crews et al., _The Memory Wars: Freud's Legacy in Dispute_ , London, Granta, 1997.  Jerome Bruner, _Acts of Meaning_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1990.  Pinker, _How the Mind Works_ , 1997.  Sigmund Freud, _Interpretation of Dreams_ , Standard Edition, IV, xxv (Preface to 2nd edn, 1909), quoted in John Forrester, _Dispatches from the Freud Wars: Psychoanalysis and its Passions_ , London, Harvard University Press, 1997, pp. 166\u20137.  Laura Marcus, 'Introduction: The Interpretation of Dreams', in _Sigmund Freud's The Interpretation of Dreams: New Interdisciplinary Essays_ , ed. Marcus, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1999, p. 1.  Michael Billig, 'The Rhetoric of Social Psychology', in _Deconstructing Psychology_ , ed. I. Parker and J. Shotter, London, Routledge, 1990, p. 55.  Geertz, _After the Fact_ , p. 127.  Adam Mars-Jones, commenting upon and quoting Christopher Hibbert, in review of Christopher Hibbert, _No Ordinary Place: Radley College and the Public School, Observer Review_ , 10 August 1997, p. 18.  Mark Peel, _Land of Local Content: The Biography of Anthony Chevenix-Trench_ , Melbourne, Melbourne University Press, 1995.  Florence Rush, 'The Freudian Cover-up', _Chrysalis_ , no. 1, 1977, reprinted as _The Best Kept Secret: Sexual Abuse of Children_ , New York, MacGraw Hill, 1980.  See Valerie Sinason, ed., _Memory in Dispute_ , London, Karnac Books, 1998, p. 14.  Alice Miller, _For Your Own Good: The Roots of Violence in Child-Rearing_ , London, Virago, 1987; Alice Miller, _Thou Shalt Not Be Aware: Society's Betrayal of the Child_ , London, Pluto, 1986; Jeffrey M. Masson, _The Assault on Truth: Freud's Suppression of the Seduction Theory_ , London, Faber & Faber, 1984.  Susan Brownmiller, _Against our Will_ , Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1976, p. 130.  Some critics of Freud have disputed the absence of organic aetiology in Freud's patients; see Richard Webster, _Why Freud was Wrong: Sin, Science and Psychoanalysis_ , London, HarperCollins, 1996, pp. 76\u201386. Others feel that we tend to overlook the prevalence of hysterical symptoms at both the personal and the cultural level; see Elaine Showalter, _Hystories: An Inquiry into a Feminist Auto Da Fe_ , London, Picador, 1997.  For the fullest elaboration of this point see J. Schimek, 'Fact and Fantasy in the Seduction Theory: A Historical Review', _Journal of the American Psychoanalytic Association_ , vol. 35, 1987, pp. 937\u201365.  Sigmund Freud, _The aetiology of hysteria_ [1953], Standard Edition, 111, p. 204.  Sigmund Freud, _An Autobiographical Study_ [1925], Standard Edition, XX, 1953, p. 33.  Sigmund Freud, _Female Sexuality_ [1931] in Pelican Freud Library, vol. 7; _On Sexuality_ , Harmondsworth, Penguin. 1977, p. 379.  J. Laplanche and J. -B. Pontalis 'Scene of Seduction; Theory of Seduction', in _The Language of Psychoanalysis_ , pp. 404\u20138.  Sigmund Freud, Lecture 23, in _Introductory Lectures on Psychoanalysis_ [1916], Pelican Freud Library, vol. 1, Harmondsworth, Penguin, 1977, p. 418.  Jeffrey Masson, 'The Tyranny of Psychotherapy', in _Psychotherapy and its Discontents_ , ed. W. Dryden, A. Feltham and A. Samuels, Milton Keynes, Open University Press, 1992, p. 16; emphasis added.  Ibid., p. 22.  Judith Lewis Herman, _Trauma and Recovery_ , New York, Basic Books, 1992, p. 202.  Lacan 1988, quoted in Ruth Leys, 'Traumatic Cures: Shell Shock, Janet, and the Question of Memory' in _Tense Past: Cultural Essays in Trauma and Memory_ , ed. Antze and Lambeck, London, Routledge, 1996, pp. 140\u20131.  See Ann Scott, 'Feminism and the Seductiveness of the 'Real Event', _Feminist Review_ , no. 28, 1988; _Real Events Revisited: Fantasy, Memory and Psychoanalysis_ , London, Virago, 1996.  For an overview of different psychoanalytic positions on the relation between internal and external objects, see Meir Perlow, _Understanding Mental Objects_ , London, Routledge, 1995, p. 126.  Simon Weinberg, _Incest Behavior_ , New York, Citadel Press, 1955.  Department of Health, _Child Protection: Messages from Research_ , London, HMSO, 1995, pp. 75\u20137.  Sylvia Fraser, _In my Father's House: A Memoir of Incest and Healing_ , London, Virago, 1989.  Judith Trowell, 'Memories of Abuse, or Abuse of Memories?: Discussion', in _Recovered Memories of Abuse_ , ed. Joseph Sandler and Peter Fonagy, pp. 23\u20134.  Valerie Sinason, 'Introduction', in _Memory in Dispute_ , ed. Sinason, p. 5.  Frederick Crews, 'The Unknown Freud', _New York Review of Books_ , 18 Nov. 1993, p. 61.  Ibid., p. 65.  Quoted in Ian Hacking, _Rewriting the Soul: Multiple Personality and the Sciences of Memory_ , Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press, 1995, p. 136.  Sigmund Freud, 'From the History of an Infantile Neurosis' [ 1918], in _Case Histories II_ , Pelican Freud Library, vol. 9, Harmondsworth, 1979, p. 263.  Quoted in Janet Malcolm, _In the Freud Archives_ , London, Flamingo, 1986.  Hacking, _Rewriting the Soul_ , pp. 8, 122.  Ibid., p. 205.  Ian Hacking, 'Memory Sciences, Memory Polities', in _Tense Past_ ed. Antze and Lambeck, p. 70.  Frederick Bartlett, _Remembering_ , London, Cambridge University Press, 1932.  Mary Douglas, _How Institutions Think_ , London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986, p. 81.  Gerald M. Edelman, 'Memory and the Individual Soul: Against Silly Reductionism', in _Bright Air, Brilliant Fire: On the Matter of the Mind_ , New York, Basic Books, 1992, p. 69.  Steven Rose, _The Making of Memory_ : _From Molecules to Mind_ , London, Anchor Books, 1992, p. 56.  See John Morton, 'Cognitive Perspectives on Recovered Memories', in _Recovered Memories of Abuse_ , ed. Sandler and Fonagy.  Daniel L. Schacter et al., 'The Recovered Memories Debate: A Cognitive Neuroscience Perspective', in _Recovered Memories and False Memories_ , ed. Martin Conway, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1997, p. 1.  E. F. Loftus and J. A. Coan, 'The Construction of Childhood Memories', in _The Child Witness in Context: Cognitive, Social and Legal Perspectives_ , ed. D. Peters, New York, Kluwer, 1994; D. Poole and L. White 'Two Years Later: Effects of Question Repetition and Retention Interval on the Eyewitness Testimony of Children and Adults', _Developmental Psychology_ , vol. 29, no. 5, 1993, pp. 844\u201353.  Martin Conway, 'Introduction: What Are Memories?', in _Recovered Memories_ , ed. Conway, pp. 4\u20135.  E. F. Loftus, et al., 'Forgetting Sexual Trauma: What does it Mean when 38% Forget?', _Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology_ , vol. 62, 1994, pp. 1177\u201381.  E. F. Loftus, 'The Myth of Repressed Memory', in _Recovered Memories_ , ed. Conway; L. C. Terr, 'What Happens to Early Memories of Trauma? A Study of Twenty Children under Five at the Time of Documented Traumatic Events', _Journal of the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry_ , vol. 27, 1988, pp. 96\u2013104.  British Psychological Society, _Recovered Memories_ , p. 29.  Terr, 'Early Memories of Trauma'.  Schacter et al., in _Recovered Memories_ , ed. Conway, p. 89.  Erica Burman, 'Children, False Memories and Disciplinary Alliances: Tensions between Developmental Psychology and Psychoanalysis', _Psychoanalysis and Contemporary Thought_ , vol. 21, no. 3, Summer, 1998, p. 324.  Conway, in _Recovered Memories_ , pp. 14\u201315.  Ibid., p. 19.  Paul Ricoeur, _Time and Narrative_ , 3 vols, trans. Kathleen McLaughlin and David Pellauer, Chicago, Chicago University Press, 1984\u20138.  Hacking, _Rewriting the Soul_ , pp. 248, 251.  Peter Fonagy, 'A Psychoanalytic Understanding of Memory and Reconstruction', _British Psychological Society Psychotherapeutic Section Newsletter_ , no. 16, 1994, pp. 3\u201320.  Ibid., p. 10.  Freud, quoted in Laplanche and Pontalis, 'Deferrred Action; Deferred', in _The Language of Psychoanalysis_ , p. 112.  Ibid., pp. 111\u201312.  Jean Laplanche, 'Psychoanalysis, Time and Translation', in _Jean Laplanche: Seduction, Translation, Drives_ , ed. John Fletcher and Martin Stanton, London, Institute of Contemporary Arts, 1992, pp. 176\u20137.  J. -B. Pontalis, _Love of Beginnings_ , London, Free Association Books, 1993, p. xv.  Christopher Bollas, _Being a Character: Psychoanalysis and Self Experience_ , London, Routledge, 1993, p. 78; Stephen A. Mitchell, _Hope and Dread in Psychoanalysis_ , New York, Basic Books, 1993, p. 10.  Donald Spence, _Narrative Truth and Historical Truth: Meaning and Interpretation in Psychoanalysis_ , London and New York, Norton, 1982, p. 288.  Jacques Lacan, Seminair IV Session of 6 March 1957, quoted in John Forrester, _The Seduction of Psychoanalysis: Freud, Lacan and Derrida_ , Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1990, p. 204.  Masson, in _Psychotherapy and its Discontents_ , ed. Dryden and Feltham, p. 15.  Masson, _Assault on Truth_ , p. 11.  Rosemary Rowley, 'Advancement of Women: The Third Phase', _WPA_ [Women in Psychology Association] _Annual Journal_ , 1997, p. 6.  Leys, in _Tense Past_ , ed. Antze and Lambek.  Burman, 'Disciplinary Alliances', p. 325.  Peter Fonagy, 'Forward', in _Memory in Dispute_ , ed. Sinason, p. xiv.  R. D. Hinshelwood, 'False Memory Syndrome \u2013 False Therapy Syndrome', in _Memory in Dispute_ , ed. Sinason; cited approvingly by Sinason in her introduction, ibid., p. 11.  Quoted in Laplanche and Pontalis, 'Screen Memory' in _The Language of Psychoanalysis_ , p. 411. See also S. Freud, _Screen Memories_ [....] Standard Edition, III, p. 304\u201322.  Janice Haaken, 'Sexual Abuse, Recovered Memory and Therapeutic Practice', _Social Text_ , no. 40, 1994, p. 118. See also Haaken, _Pillar of Salt: Gender, Memory, and the Perils of Looking Back_ , New Brunswick, Rutgers University Press, 1998.  Pontalis, _Love of Beginnings_ , p. 79.  Virginia Woolf, 'A Sketch of the Past', in James McConkey, _The Anatomy of Memory: An Anthology_ , Oxford, Oxford University Press.  See Hermione Lee, _Virginia Woolf_ , London, Chatto & Windus, 1996, pp. 154\u20139.  Woolf, in _Anatomy of Memory_ , p. 320.  Ibid., p. 328.  Lee, _Woolf, p._ 127.  Hacking, _Rewriting the Soul_ , p. 69.  Allon Young, 'Bodily Memory and Traumatic Memory', in _Tense Past._  Hacking, _Tense Past_ , p. 78.  Pontalis, _Love of Beginnings_ , p. xv.  Louise Armstrong, _Kiss Daddy Goodnight_ , New York, Pocket Books, 1978.  Louise Armstrong, 'Making an Issue out of Incest', in _The Sexual Liberals and the Attack on Feminism_ , ed. Dorchen Leibholdt and Janice Raymond, Oxford, Pergamon Press, 1990, p. 43.  See Linda Alcoff and Laura Gray, 'Survivor Discourse: Transgression or Recuperation?, _Signs_ , vol. 18, no. 2, 1993.  Elayne Rapping, _The Culture of Recovery: Making Sense of the Self-Help Movement in Women's Lives_ , Boston, Beacon Press, 1996, p. 9.  Louise Armstrong, _Rocking the Cradle of Sexual Politics: What Happened when Women Said Incest_ , London, Women's Press, 1996; Michele Davies, _Childhood Sexual Abuse and the Construction of Identity: Healing Sylvia_ , London, Taylor & Francis, 1995.  See, for example, Sheila Ernst and Marie Maguire, _Living with the Sphinx_ , London, Women's Press, 1987.  For recent confirmation that such negative attitudes persist, see Kendra Gilbert and Adrian Colye, 'Reconciling the Irreconcilable?: Psychoanalytic Psychotherapists' Constructions of Feminism and Psychoanalysis', forthcoming.\n\n### Chapter 5 Gender Anxieties at the Limits of Psychology\n\n Sarah Dunant and Roy Porter, eds, _The Age of Anxiety_ , London, Virago, 1996, p. 2.  Andrew Samuels, _The Political Psyche_ , London, Routledge, 1993, pp. 222\u20133.  Joan Raphael-Leff and Rosine Josef Perelman, eds, _Female Experience: Three Generations of British Women Psychoanalysts on Work with Women_ , London, Routledge, 1997.  Trefor Lloyd and Tristan Wood, eds, _What Next for Men_ , London, Working with Men, 1996.  Muriel Dimen, 'Deconstructing Difference: Gender, Splitting and Transitional Space', in _Psychoanalytic Dialogues_ , vol. 1, no. 3, 1995, p. 349.  See Diane Elam and Robyn Wiegman, _Feminism beside Itself_ , London, Routledge, 1995.  See Jill Morawski, _Practicing Feminism, Reconstructing Psychology_ , Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, 1994; Jeanne Marecek, 'Gender, Politics and Psychology's Ways of Knowing', _American Psychologist_ , vol. 50, 1995, pp. 162\u20133; Karen Henwood and Nick Pidgeon, 'Remaking the Link: Qualitative Research and Feminist Standpoint Theory', _Feminist Psychology_ , vol. 5, no. 1, 1995, pp. 7\u201330; Mary Gergen and Sara Davis, ed., _Towards a New Psychology of Gender_ , London, Routledge, 1997.  Michelle Fine and Corrine Bertram, 'Feminist Futures: A Retrospective'; _Feminism and Psychology_ , vol. 5, no. 4, Nov. 1995, p. 460.  Graham Richards, _Putting Psychology in its Place: An Introduction from a Critical Psychology Perspective_ , London, Routledge, 1995, p. 150.  Herbert Harari and Jean Peters, 'The Fragmentation of Psychology: Are APA Divisions Symptomatic?, _American Psychologist_ , vol. 42, 1987, p. 822; Judith Stacey, 'Disloyal to the Disciplines: A Feminist Trajectory in the Borderlands', in _Feminism in the Academy_ , ed. D. Stanton and A. Stewart, Ann Arbor, University of Michigan Press, 1994, p. 312.  See, for example, Janet Spence, _Gender Issues in Contemporary Psychology_ , London, Sage, 1993, p. 5.  Helen Thompson, 'A Review of Recent Literature on the Psychology of Sex', _Psychological Bulletin_ , vol. 7,1910, pp. 335\u201342. See also R. W. Connell, _Gender and Power_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1987, p. 30.  Eleanor Maccoby and Carol Jacklin, _The Psychology of Sex Differences_ , Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1974.  Kay Deaux, 'From Individual Differences to Social Categories: Analysis of a Decade's Research on Gender', _American Psychologist_ , vol. 39, Feb. 1984, p. 107.  Stephen Jay Gould, _The Mismeasure of Man_ , New York, Norton, 1981; Carole Tavris, _The Mismeasure of Woman_ , New York, Simon & Schuster, 1992.  See, for example, Diane Halpern's exhaustive 1990s overview, _Sex Differences in Cognitive Abilities_ , 2nd edn, Hillsdale, NJ, Lawrence & Erlbaum, 1992; see also A. Feingold, 'Cognitive Gender Differences Are Disappearing', _American Psychologist_ , vol. 43, 1998, pp. 95\u2013103; J. S. Hyde and M. C. Linn, 'Gender Differences in Verbal Ability: A Meta-Analysis', _Psychological Bulletin_ , vol. 104, 1988, pp. 53\u201369; Janet K. Swim, 'Perceived Versus Meta-Analytic Effect Sizes: An Assessment of the Accuracy of Gender Stereotypes', _Journal of Personality and Social Psychology_ , vol. _66_ , no. 1, 1994, pp. 21\u201336.  Alice Eagly, 'On the Advantage of Reporting Sex Differences', _American Psychologist_ , vol. 45, 1990, pp. 560\u20132. Carol Jacklin, ed., _The Psychology of Gender_ , Aldershot, Edward Elgar, 1992. Those who think we should stop sex difference research include Roy Baumeister, 'Should we Stop Studying Sex Differences Altogether', _American Psychologist_ , vol. 43, 1988, p. 1093, and the contributors to Rachel Hare-Mustin and Jeanne Marecek, eds, _Making a Difference: Psychology and the Construction of Gender_ , New Haven, Yale University Press, 1990.  See Celia Kitzinger ed., 'Special Feature: Should Psychologists Study Sex Differences?', _Feminism and Psychology_ , vol. 4, no. 4, November 1994.  Michael Messner, _Politics of Masculinity: Men in Movements_ , London, Sage, 1997, p. xiv.  Nigel Edley and Margaret Wetherall, _Men in Perspective: Practice, Power and Identity_ , London, Prentice Hall, 1995, p. 30.  Sahorta Sarker, _Genetics and Reductionism_ , Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1998.  See Celia Kitzinger, 'Editor's Introduction to \"Psychology Constructs the female\": A Reappraisal', _Feminism and Psychology_ , vol. 3, no. 2, 1993. Naomi Weisstein received a standing ovation after delivering 'Psychology Constructs the Female' to the American Studies Association at the University of California, Davis, in 1968.  Rhoda Unger and Mary Crawford, _Women and Gender: A Feminist Psychology_ , New York, McGraw Hill, 1992.  Leonore Tiefer, 'Retrospective: At the Age of 20 we are Old Enough to Learn from Our Past', paper presented to the 14th Annual Research Conference of the Association for Women in Psychology, Newport, RI, March 1989.  Unger and Crawford, _Women and Gender_ , p. 624.  Jennifer Wicke, 'Celebrity Material: Materialist Feminism and the Culture of Celebrity', _South Atlantic Quarterly_ , vol. 93, no. 4, Fall, 1994, p. 761; see also Lyn Mikel Brown and Carol Gilligan, _Meeting at the Crossroads: Women's Psychology and Girls' Development_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1992.  Shirley Prendergast and Simon Forrest, '\"Hieroglyphs of the Heterosexual\": Learning about Gender in School', in _New Sexual Agendas_ , ed. Lynne Segal, Basingstoke, Macmillan, 1997; Helen Wilkinson, _No Turning Back_ , London, Demos, 1994; Helen Wilkinson and Geoff Mulgan, _Freedom's Children_ , London, Demos, 1995.  Esther Rothblum, 'The Stigma of Women's Weight: Social and Economic Realities', _Feminism and Psychology_ , vol. 2, no. 1, 1992, Helen Mason, _The Thin Woman_ , London, Routledge, 1997.  Jane Ussher, 'Research and Theory Related to Female Reproduction: Implications for Clinical Psychology', _British Journal of Clinical Psychology_ , vol. 31, 1992, pp. 129\u201351.  Pauline Bart and Eileen Moran, eds, _Violence against Women: The Bloody Footprints_, London, Sage, 1993.  Kum-Kum Bhavnani and Ann Phoenix, eds, _Feminism and Psychology: Special Issue on Shifting Identities Shifting Racism_ , vol. 4, no. 1, 1994.  Rozsika Parker, _Torn in Two: The Experience of Maternal Ambivalence_ , London, Virago, 1995.  Mary Crawford, _Talking Difference: On Gender and Language_ , London, Sage, 1995.  Ibid., p. 12.  See, for example, Michelle Fine, 'Reflections on a Feminist Psychology of Women: Paradoxes and Prospects', _Psychology of Women Quarterly_ , vol. 9, 1985, pp. 167\u201383; Mary Jane Parlee, 'Feminism and Psychology', in _Psychology of Gender_ , ed. Gergen and Davis.  Lynne Segal, _Is the Future Female?: Troubled Thoughts on Contemporary Feminism_ , London, Virago, 1987.  James Harrison, 'Roles, Identities, and Sexual Orientation: Homosexuality, Heterosexuality, and Bisexuality', in _A New Psychology of Men_ , ed. Ronald Levant and William Pollack, New York, Basic Books, 1995, p. 375.  Dimen, 'Deconstructing Difference', p. 339.  Jessica Benjamin, _Like Subjects, Love Objects_ , New Haven, Yale University Press, 1995; Nancy Chodorow, _Femininities, Masculinities, Sexualities_ , London, Free Association Books, 1994; Jane Flax, _Thinking Fragments_ , Berkeley, University of California Press, 1990.  Prendergast and Forrest, in _New Sexual Agendas_ , ed. Segal, p. 187; Harriet Bjerrum Nielson and Monica Rudberg, 'Gender Recipes Among Young Girls', _Young-Nordic Journal of Youth Research_ , vol. 2, no. 3, 1995.  Michael Roper, _Masculinity and the British Organization Man since 1945_ , Oxford, Oxford University Press, 1994.  Parker, _Torn in Two;_ Wendy Hollway and Brid Featherstone, _Mothering and Ambivalence_ , London, Routledge, 1997; Susan Kippax et al., _Surviving Safer Sex: Gay Community Responses to Aids_ , London, Falmer, 1993; Michael Kauffman, _Cracking the Armour: Power, Pain and the Lives of Men_ , Toronto, Viking, 1993.  Harry Brod, 'A Case for Men's Studies', in _Changing Men: New Directions in Research on Men and Masculinity_ , ed. Michael Kimmel, London, Sage, 1987.  Office for Standards in Education and Equal Opportunities Commission [Ofsted\/EOC], _The Gender Divide: Performance Differences between Boys and Girls at School_ , London, HMSO, 1996.  Lloyd and Wood, eds, _What Next for Men._  R. W. Connell, _Masculinities_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1995, pp. 82\u20136; Sian Griffith, ed., _Beyond the Glass Ceiling_ , Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1996; Natasha Walter, _The New Feminism_ , London. Virago, 1998, pp. 10\u201325.  John Charlton et al., 'Suicide Deaths in England and Wales: Trends in Factors Associated with Suicide Deaths', _Population Trends_ , no. 71, Spring, 1993.  The Commission on Children and Violence, _Children and Violence_ , London, Calouste Gulbenkian Foundation, 1995.  These media programmes and newspaper articles are discussed in Debbie Epstein et al., 'Schoolboy Frictions: Feminism and Failing' Boys', in _Failing Boys: Issues in Gender and Achievement_ , ed. Epstein et al., Buckingham, Open University Press, 1998, p. 6. In this essay they point to similar rhetoric in other Western states.  Ibid., pp. 11\u201312.  Madeleine Arnot, Miriam David and Gaby Weiner, _Educational Reforms and Gender Equality in Schools_ , Manchester, Equal Opportunity Commission, 1996.  See Michele Cohen, 'A Habit of Healthy Idleness: Boy's Under-achievement in Historical Perspective', in _Failing Boys_ , ed. Epstein et al.; Tony Sewell, _Black Masculinities and Schooling: How Black Boys Survive Modern Schooling_ , Stoke-on-Trent, Trentham Books, 1997.  Girls have always outperformed boys in school up until the age of eleven; due to official attempts to keep a gender balance, in Britain in the 1950s and 1960s girls therefore had to score higher than boys to enter grammar schools. See Epstein et al., in _Failing Boys_ , ed. Epstein et al., p. 5.  Roger Horrocks, _Masculinity in Crisis: Myths, Fantasies and Realities_ , London and Basingstoke, Macmillan, 1994, p. 1.  Ronald Levant and William Pollack, eds, _A New Psychology of Men_ , Basic Books, 1995. This collection includes examples of most of the recent work being done on the psychology of masculinity in the USA; see also S. Oskamp and M. Costanzo, eds, _Gender Issues in Social Psychology_ , London, Sage, 1993; R. C Barnett, N. L. Marshall and J. Pleck, 'Men's Multiple Roles and their Relationship to Psychological Distress', _Journal of Marriage and the Family_ , vol. 54, no. 2, 1992.  Joseph Pleck, _The Myth of Masculinity_ , Cambridge, Mass., MIT Press, 1981; Pleck, 'The Gender Role Strain Paradigm: An Update', in _Psychology of Men_ , ed. Levant and Pollack.  Levant and Pollack, 'Introduction', in _Psychology of Men_ , ed. Levant and Pollack, p. 1.  See T. Brooks-Gunn and W. Mathews, _He and She: How Children Develop their Sex-Role Identity_ , Englewood Cliffs, NJ, Prentice Hall, 1979.  Robert Weiss, _Staying the Course: The Emotional and Social Lives of Men who Do Well at Work_ , New York, Fawcett, Columbia, 1990, quoted in Schwalbe, _Unlocking the Iron Cage_ , New York, Oxford University Press, 1996, p. 27.  Joseph H. Pleck, Freya Lund Sonenstein and Lighton C. Ku, 'Masculinity Ideology and its Correlates', in _Gender Issues in Social Psychology_ , ed. Oskamp and Costanzo, London, Sage, 1993.  Andrew Ross, 'The Great White Dude', in _Constructing Masculinity_ , ed. Maurice Berger et al., London, Routledge, 1995, p. 172.  Some feminists, and gender theorists, have objected to discourses of 'patriarchy', except in terms of its literal meaning 'power of the father', on the grounds that it suggests a universal and unchanging structure of male dominance, diverting attention from the multiplicity of ways in which gender operates. Its shifting usage seems clear enough to me, but I prefer the notion of 'men's dominance' as a more precise description of the overall pattern of gender relations in modernity.  Connell, _Masculinities_ , p. 211.  See Susan Faludi, _Backlash: The Undeclared War against Women_ , New York, Crown, 1991.  Lynn Raphael Reed, ' \"Zero Tolerance\": Gender Performance and School Failure', in _Failing Boys_ , ed. Epstein, et al., p. 65.  Michael Kimmel, _Manhood in America: A Cultural History_ , New York, The Free Press, 1996; J. A. Mangan and James Walvin, eds, _Manliness and Morality_ , Manchester, Manchester University Press; Michael Roper and John Tosh, eds, _Manful Assertions: Masculinities in Britain since 1800_ , London, Routledge, 1991.  See _What Next for Men_ , ed. Lloyd and Wood.  Will Hutton, 'Why the Workplace is No Longer a Man's World', _The Observer_ , 8 Dec. 1996, p. 26.  See Sandy Ruxton, 'Boys Won't Be Boys: Tackling the Roots of Male Delinquency', in _What Next for Men_ , ed. Lloyd and Wood, p. 89; Peter Moss, 'Increasing Men's Involvement with their Children, in _What Next for Men_ , ed. Lloyd and Wood, p. 250.  Judith Butler, _Gender Trouble_ , London, Routledge, 1990; Lynne Segal, _Straight Sex: The Politics of Pleasure_ , London, Virago, 1994.  Homi Bhabha, 'Are You a Man or a Mouse?', in _Constructing Masculinity_ , ed. Berger et al., p. 58.  Robert Reid-Pharr, 'It's Raining Men', _Transitions: An International Review_ , vol. 6, no.l, 1996, p. 38.  Ibid.  Connell, _Masculinities;_ Messner, _Politics of Masculinity;_ Jeff Hearn, Mac an Ghaill, ed., _Understanding Masculinities_ , Milton Keynes, Open University Press, 1996; John Maclnness, _The End of Masculinity_ , Milton Keynes, Open University Press, 1998.  See Jeffrey Weeks, _Invented Moralities: Sexual Values in an Age of_ _Uncertainty_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1995; Edward King, _Safety in Numbers: Safer Sex and Gay Men_ , London, Cassell, 1993; Thorn Gunn, _The Man with Night Sweats_ , London, Faber & Faber, 1992; Mark Doty, _Heaven's Coast: A Memoir_ , London, Jonathan Cape, 1996.\n\n### Chapter 6 Cautionary Tales: Between Freud and Feminism\n\n Lesley Caldwell, 'Editorial', _New Formations: Psychoanalysis and Culture_ , no. 26, Autumn, 1995, p. vii.  Juliet Mitchell, 'Twenty Years On', in _New Formations: Psychoanalysis and Culture_ , no. 26, Autumn, 1995, p. 124.  Mari Jo Buhle, _Feminism and its Discontents: A Century of Struggle with Psychoanalysis_ , London, Harvard University Press, 1998; see also Lisa Appignanesi and John Forrester, _Freud's Women_ , London, Weidenfeld & Nicholson, 1992.  Emma Goldman quoted in Buhle, ibid., p. 2.  Charlotte Perkins Gihman, discussed in Buhle, ibid., p. 48.  H. J. Eysenck, 'Emote Controls', _Times Higher Education Supplement_ , 17 May 1996, p. 24.  One of the most recent, highly polemical efforts along these lines can be found in Judith Rich Harris, _The Nature Assumption: Why Children Turn Out the Way They Do_ , London, Bloomsbury, 1998.  Jacques Derrida, '\"To Do Justice to Freud\": The History of Madness in the Age of Psychoanalysis, _Critcal Inquiry_ , vol. 20, Winter, 1994, p. 239.  Rachel Bowlby, 'Still Crazy Afer All These Years', in _Feminism and Psychoanalysis_ , ed. Teresa Brennan, Routledge, 1989, p. 42.  Mitchell, 'Twenty Years On', p. 125.  Jane Gallop, _The Daughter's Seduction: Feminism and Psychoanalysis_ , Ithaca, NY, Cornell University Press, 1982, p. xii.  Sigmund Freud, _Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality_ [1905, footnote added 1915], Penguin Freud Library, vol. 7, Harmondsworth, 1977, pp. 141\u20132.  Norman Mailer, _Advertisements for Myself_ , London, Putnam, 1959, p. 222.  See Elisabeth Roudinesco, _A History of Psychoanalysis in France 1925\u20131985_ , trans. Jeffrey Mehlman, London, Free Association Books, 1990, pp. 404\u20136.  Cited in David Macey, _Lacan in Contexts_ , London, Verso, 1988, p. 208.  Cited in Roudinesco, _Psychoanalysis in France_ , p. 423.  Cited in Stephen Heath, 'Difference' [ 1978], in _The Sexual Subject: A Screen Reader in Sexuality_, ed. M. Merck, London, Routledge, 1992, p. 63.  Jacques Lacan, 'The Signification of the Phallus', in _Lacapo, Ecrits: A Selection_ , pp. 281\u201391.  Lacan, 1957\u20138, quoted in _Feminine Sexuality_ , ed. Juliet Mitchell and Jacqueline Rose, trans. Rose, London, Macmillan, 1982, p. 39.  Luce Irigaray, _Speculum of the Other Woman_ , trans. Gillian Gill, Ithaca, NY, Cornell University Press, 1985, p. 83.  Slavoj \u017di\u017eek, ' \"Postscript\" to Slavoj \u017di\u017eek and Renate Salec \"Lacan in Slovenia\"', in _A Critical Sense: Interviews with Intellectuals_ , ed. Peter Osborne, London, Routledge, 1996, p. 42.  See Ann Rosalind Jones, 'Editors' Introduction', in Catherine Clement, _The Weary Sons of Freud_ , London, Verso, 1987, p. 4.  Drucilla Cornell, _Beyond Accommodation: Ethical Feminism, Deconstruction and the Law_ , London, Routledge, 1991, p. 199.  Drucilla Cornell, 'Feminism, Deconstruction and the Law: Drucilla Cornell Interviewed by Peter Osborne', _Radical Philosophy_ , no. 73, Sept.-Oct. 1995, p. 30.  Judith Butler, 'Against Proper Objects', _More Gender Trouble: Feminism Meets Queer Theory_ , special issue of _Differences_ , vol. 6, nos 2\u20133, 1994, p. 19.  Juliet Flower MacCannell, 'Language', in _Feminism and Psychoanalysis: A Critical Dictionary_ , ed. Elizabeth Wright, Oxford, Blackwell, 1992, p. 213.  See Jacqueline Rose, _Why War: The Bucknell Lectures in Literary Theory_ , Oxford, Blackwell, 1993, p. 245.  David Macey, 'Phallus: Definitions', in _Feminism and Psychoanalysis_ , ed. Wright, p. 319.  See Jean Laplanche, _New Foundations of Psychoanalysis_ , trans. D. Macey, Oxford, Blackwell, 1989; John Fletcher and Michael Stanton, eds, _Jean Laplanche: Seduction, Translation, Drives_ , London, Institute of Contemporary Arts, 1992.  See John Fletcher, 'Introduction: Psychoanalysis and the Question of the Other' in Jean Laplanche, _Essays on Otherness_ , London, Routledge, 1999, pp. 44\u20135.  John Fletcher, 'Phallocentrism and the General Theory of Seduction', unpublished.  Philippe Van Haute, 'Fatal Attraction: Jean Laplanche on Sexuality, Subjectivity and Singularity in the work of Sigmund Freud', _Radical Philosophy_ , vol. 73, Sept.-Oct., 1995, p. 10.  David Macey, 'On the Subject of Lacan', in _Psychoanalysis in Context_ , ed. Anthony Elliott and Stephen Frosh, London, Routledge, 1994, p. 81.  John Brenkman, _Straight, Male, Modern_ , London, Routledge, 1993.  Gayle Rubin with Judith Butler, 'Sexual Traffic', _More Gender Trouble: Feminism Meets Queer Theory_ , special issue _of Differences_ , vol. 6, nos 2\u20133, 1994, p. 69.  Teresa de Lauretis, _Technologies of Gender: Essays on Theory, Film and Fiction_ , London and Basingstoke, Macmillan, 1987, p. 2.  Teresa de Lauretis, _The Practice of Love: Lesbian Sexuality and Perverse Desire_ , Bloomington, Indiana University Press, 1994.  Judith Butler, 'Desire', in _Critical Terms for Literary Study_ , ed. Frank Lentricchia and Thomas McLaughlin, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1995, pp. 385; Butler, 'Against Proper Objects', p. 20.  Elizabeth Grosz, 'The Labors of Love. Analyzing Perverse Desire: An Interrogation of Teresa de Lauretis's _The Practice of Love', Differences_ , vol. 6, nos 2 and 3, 1994, p. 275.  Jacqueline Rose, 'Introduction', in _Feminine Sexuality_ , ed. Mitchell and Rose, p. 57.  Rose, _Why War_ , pp. 243\u20134.  Mikkel Borch-Jacobsen, 'The Oedipus Problem in Freud and Lacan', trans. Douglas Brick, _Critical Inquiry_ , vol. 20, Winter, 1994, p. 277.  Peter Dews, 'The Early Lacan and the Frankfurt School', in _Psychoanalysis in Context_ , ed. Elliott and Frosh, p. 61.  Dews, ibid., p. 60; Borch-Jacobsen, 'Oedipus Problem', p. 282; emphasis added.  \u017di\u017eek, 'Postscript', in _Critical Sense_ , ed. Peter Osborne, p. 42.  Ethel Person, 'The Influence of Values in Psychoanalysis: The Case of Female Psychology', in _Essential Papers on the Psychology of Women_ , ed. Claudia Zanardi, New York, New York University Press, 1990, pp. 314\u201315.  Lacan, 'Seminar of 21 January 1975', in _Feminine Sexuality_ , ed. Mitchell and Rose, p. 170.  Otto Kernberg, 'Boundaries and Structures in Love Relations', in _Internal World and External Reality_ , New York, Jason Aronson, 1980, p. 279.  Hanna Segal interviewed by Jacqueline Rose in _Women: A Cultural Review_ , vol. 1, no. 2, Summer, 1990, p. 207.  Michael Balint, 'Perversion and Genitality', in _Primary Love and Psycho-Analytic Technique_ , London, Tavistock, 1965, p. 136.  Cited in Susie Orbach, 'Beware the Prejudiced Analyst', _Guardian Weekend_ , 29 April 1995.  Freud, _Three Essays_ , pp. 56\u20137.  Janine Chasseguet-Smirgel, 'Being a Mother and a Psychoanalyst', in _Representations of Motherhood_ , ed. D. Bassin et al., New Haven and London, Yale University Press, 1994, p. 125.  M. Egl\u00e9 Laufer, The Female Oedipus Complex and the Relationship to the Body', in _The Gender Conundrum_ , ed. D. Breen, London, Routledge, 1993, p. 76.  Laufer, ibid.; see also Chasseguet-Smirgel, 'Freud and Female Sexuality: The Consideration of some Blind Spots in the Exploration of the \"Dark Continent\"', in _Gender Conundrum_ , ed. Breen.  Adam Jukes, _Why Men Hate Women_ , London, Free Association Books, 1993, p. 317.  Freud, _Three Essays,'_ p. 160. See also Alain Gibeault, 'On the Feminine and the Masculine: Afterthoughts on Jacqueline Cosnier's Book, _Destins de la f\u00e9minit\u00e9'_ , in _Gender Conundrum_ , ed. Breen.  Sigmund Freud, 'Analysis Terminable and Interminable' [1937\u20139], Standard Edition, vol. XXIII London, Hogarth, 1964, p. 252.  Monique Schneider, interviewed in _Women Analyze Women_ , ed. E. H. Baruch and L. J. Serrano, New York, New York University Press, 1988; emphasis added.  Dana Breen, 'General Introduction', in _Gender Conundrum_ , ed. Breen, p. 35, citing Joyce McDougall.  Jessica Benjamin, 'The Omnipotent Mother', in _Representations of Motherhood_ , ed. Bassin et al., p. 132.  Virginia Goldner, 'Towards a Critical Relational Theory of Gender', _Psychoanalytic Dialogues_ , vol. 1, no. 3, 1991, p. 249. See also Muriel Dimen, 'Deconstructing Difference: Gender, Splitting, and Transitional Space', _Psychoanalytic Dialogues_ , vol. 1, no. 3, pp. 335\u201352.  Benjamin, in _Representations of Motherhood_ , ed. Bassin et al., p. 130.  Juliet Mitchell, 'Commentary on \"Deconstructing Difference: Gender, Splitting and Transitional Space', _Psychoanalytic Dialogues_ , vol. 1, no. 3, 1991, pp. 353\u20137.  Jessica Benjamin, 'An \"Over-inclusive\" Theory of Gender Development', in _Psychoanalysis in Context_ , ed. Elliott and Frosh, p. 120.  Kaja Silverman, _Male Subjectivity at the Margins_ , London, Routledge, 1992, p. 65.  Adam Phillips, _Terrors and Experts_ , London, Faber & Faber, 1995, p. 86.  Ibid., p. xvi.\n\n### Chapter 7 Only Contradictions on Offer: Feminism at the Millennium\n\n Joan Scott, _Only Paradoxes to Offer: French Feminists and the Rights of Man_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, 1996.  Caroline Glendinning and Jane Miller, eds, _Women and Poverty in Britain: The 1990s_ , London, Harvester, 1992; Sylvia Bashevkin, _Women on the Defensive: Living through Conservative Times_ , Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 1998.  Bashevkin, ibid. p. 95.  Harold Bloom, cited in Sandra M. Gilbert, 'Presidential Address 1996: Shadows of Futurity: The Literary Imagination, the MLA, and the Twenty-First Century', _Proceedings of the Modern Language Association_ , vol. 112, no. 3, May, 1997, p. 3.  See Lynne Segal, _Straight Sex: The Politics of Pleasure_ , London, Virago, 1994.  These figures come from the Incomes Data Service, 77 Bastwick Street, London, EC1V 3TT, Feb. 1999.  See Marlene Kim, 'Comments', in _Women and Unions: Forging a Partnership_ , ed. Dorothy Cobble, New York, International Labour Review Press, 1993.  B. Bagilhole, _Women, Work and Equal Opportunity_ , Aldershot, Avebury, 1994, p. 1.  See Suzanne Franks, _Having None of It: Women, Men and the Future of Work_ , London, Granta, 1999.  Joni Lovendeski, 'Sex, Gender and British Polities', _Parliamentary Affairs_ , vol. 49, no. 1, Jan. 1996, p. 10; Bashevkin, _Women on the Defensive_ , p. 120.  Reported in Mary McIntosh, 'Dependency Culture? Welfare, Women and Work', _Radical Philosophy_ , no. 91, Sept.-Oct., 1998, p. 5.  Sue Lees, _Carnal Knowledge: Rape on Trial_ , London, Penguin, 1996; Bashevkin, _Women on the Defensive_ , pp. 60, 116.  Information from _Social Focus on Women_ , quoted in _Who's Afraid of Feminism Seeing through the Backlash_ , ed. Ann Oakley and Juliet Mitchell, London, Penguin, 1997, p. 7.  Manuel Castells, 'The End of Patriarchalism: Social Movements, Family, and Sexuality in the Information Age', in _The Information Age: Economy, Society and Culture_ , vol. 11: _The Power of Identity_ , Oxford, Blackwell, 1998, pp. 165\u201370.  Suzanne Franks, 'Vital Statistics', _The Guardian_ , 11 Jan. 1999, p. 7.  The declaration condemns violence against women, especially systemic rape in warfare, and encourages assistance for female victims of violence; recommends enactment of legislation to guarantee the right of women and men to equal pay for equal work; supports the promotion of businesses run by women and women's media networks; calls for women's equal participation in governments; promotes research on women's health, and so on. See a variety of reports from the Beijing conference in _Signs_ , vol. 22, no. 1, 1996, pp. 181\u2013226.  Charlotte Bunch, cited in Barbara Crossette, 'Women See Key Gains since Talks in Beijing', _New York Times_ , 8 March 1998.  Rachel Blau DuPlessis and Ann Snitow, 'A Feminist Memoir Project', in _The Feminist Memoir Project: Voices from Women's Liberation_ , New York, Three Rivers Press, 1998, p. 4.  For example, Leslie Heywood and Jennifer Drake, eds, _Third Wave Agenda: Doing Feminism, Being Feminist_ , Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1997; Special Issue: Third Wave Feminisms, _Hypatia: A Journal of Feminist Philosophy_ , ed. J. Zita, Summer, 1997.  Eleanor Rathbone, quoted in Susan Pedersen, 'The Failure of Feminism in the Making of the British Welfare State', _Radical History Review: The Women's Story_ , vol. 43, Winter, 1989, pp. 86\u2013110 (86).  Nancy Fraser and Linda Gordon, 'A Genealogy of \"Dependency\": Tracing a Keyword of the U.S. Welfare State', in Fraser, _Justice Interrupts: Critical Reflections on the \"Postsocialist\" Condition_ , New York and London, Routledge, 1997; Moynihan quoted in ibid., p. 138.  'News in Brief: Midwives to Look for Abuse of Women', _The Guardian_ , 29 Dec., 1997, p. 8.: 'There seems to be evidence of violence starting or being exacerbated when a woman is pregnant or postnatally, with the violence directed towards her stomach, breasts and genitals'.  Carolyn Steedman, 'Landscape of a Good Woman', in Steedman, _Past Tense: Essays in Writing, Autobiography and History_ , London, Rivers Oram Press, 1992, p. 36.  Liz Heron, _Truth, Dare or Promise: Girls Growing Up in the Sixties_ , London, Virago, 1985, p. 6.  Castells, 'The End of Patriarchalism', p. 235.  McIntosh, 'Dependency Culture?', p. 5.  See Katherine McFate et al., eds, _Poverty, Inequality and the Future of Social Policy_ , New York, Russell Sage, 1995.  Lawrence Mead, ed., _The New Paternalism: Supervising Approaches to Poverty_ , Washington, DC, Brookings Institution Press, 1997; Susanne MacGregor, 'Welfare, Neo-Liberalism and New Paternalism: Three Ways for Social Policy in Late Capitalist Societies, _Capital and Class_ , no. 67, Spring, 1999.  Tony Cutler and Barbara Waine, _Managing the Welfare State_ , Oxford, Berg, 1997.  Alan Finder, 'Evidence Is Scant that Workfare Leads to Full-Time Jobs', _New York Times_ , 12 April 1998, pp. 1, 30.  Judith Stacey, 'Families against the Family', _Radical Philosophy_ , no. 89, May-June 1998; _In the Name of the Family: Rethinking Family Values in the Postmodern Age_ , Boston, Beacon Press, 1996, ch. 4.  Lillian Rubin, _The Transcendent Child: Tales of Triumph over the Past_ , New York, HarperCollins, 1997.  Judith Williamson, 'This Life: Careless Talk Costs Lives', _The Guardian_ , 20 Dec. 1997.  Quoted in Carol Gilligan, 'Getting Civilized', in _Who's Afraid of Feminism_ , ed. Oakley and Mitchell, p. 15.  David Popenoe, _Disturbing the Nest: Family Change and Decline in Modern Societies_, New York, Aldine, 1988; _Rebuilding the Nest: A New Commitment to the American Family_ , ed. David Blakenhorn, Jean Bethke Elshtain and Steven Bayme, Milwaukee, Family Service American, 1991; David Blakenhorn, _Fatherless America: Confronting our most Urgent Social Problem_ , New York, Basic Books, 1995.  Barbara Ehrenreich, 'When Government Gets Mean: Confessions of a Recovering Statist', _The Nation_ , 17 Nov. 1997, p. 12; emphasis added.  See Anna Marie Smith, 'Feminist Activism and Presidential Politics: Theorizing the Costs of the \"Insider Strategy\" ', _Radical Philosophy_ , no. 83, May-June, 1997; Zillah Eisenstein, _Hatreds: Racialized and Sexualized Conflicts in the 21st Century_ , London, Routledge, 1996, p. 118.  Wendy Brown, _States of Injury Power and Freedom in Late Modernity_ , Princeton, NJ, Princeton University Press, 1995, p. x. In this book I do not address the influential strand of anti-pornography feminism, though I have done so frequently elsewhere, because I believe it has served primarily to reinvigorate the moral right, rather than any progressive left politics. See Segal, _Straight Sex;_ Segal and McIntosh, eds, _Sex Exposed: Sexuality and the Pornography Debates_ , New Brunswick, NJ, Rutgers University Press, 1992.  See, for example, McIntosh, 'Dependency Culture?', p. 2.  Ibid., p. 3.  Paul Pierson, _Dismantling the Welfare State? Reagan, Thatcher and the Politics of Retrenchment_ , Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1995.  Harvey Levenstein, _Paradoxes of Plenty: A Social History of Eating in Modern America_ , New York, Oxford University Press, 1993, p. 81.  Franks, 'Vital Statistics', p. 7; Franks, _Having None of It._  For the fullest overview see Castells, 'The End of Patriarchalism'.  Toril Moi, 'Psychoanalysis, Feminism, and Politics: A Conversation with Juliet Mitchell', _Materialist Feminism_ , special eds Toril Moi and Janice Radway, _South Atlantic Quarterly_ , vol. 93, no. 4, Fall, 1994, p. 937.  Patrizia Romito, ' \"Damned if You Do and Damned if You Don't\": Psychological and Social Constraints on Otherhood in Contemporary Europe', in _Who's Afraid of Feminism_ , ed. Oakley and Mitchell; Adriana Cavarero, 'The Politics of Sexual Difference', paper delivered to _Radical Philosophy Conference: Torn Halves: Theory and Politics in Contemporary Feminism_ , School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, 9 Nov. 1996.  See Rita Felski, 'The Doxa of Difference', _Signs_ , vol. 23, no. 1, Autumn, 1997.  Cora Kaplan reminded me of Mitchell's argument in her talk at the conference entitled _At the Millennium: Interrogating Gender_ , Harkness Hall, London University, London, 9 Jan. 1998.  Juliet Mitchell, 'Reflections on Twenty Years of Feminism', in _What is Feminism?_ , ed. J. Mitchell and A. Oakley, Oxford, Blackwell, 1986, pp. 47, 48, 45.  Norman Mailer, quoted in David Denby, 'The Contender', _New Yorker_ , 20 April 1998, p. 70.  See, for example, Judith Stacey, _Brave New Families: Stories of Domestic Upheaval in the Late Twentieth Century_ , New York, Basic Books, 1990.  For a detailed and stimulating account of women and men working in the upper echelons of banking in the City of London, see Linda McDowell, _Capital Culture: Gender and Work in the City_ , Oxford, Blackwell, 1997.  Cynthia Salzman, _In the Shadows of Privilege: Women and Unions at Yale_ , forthcoming; Hank Johnson and Bert Klandermans, eds, _Social Movements and Culture_ (Social Movements, Protest, and Contention, vol. 4), Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1995.  Andrew Ross, _Real Love: In Pursuit of Cultural Justice_ , New York, New York University Press, 1998, pp. 5, 216.  Jane Gallop, _Around 1981: Academic Feminist Literary Theory_ , London, Routledge, 1992, p. 4.  Hazel V. Carby, 'The Multicultural Wars', _Radical History Review_ , vol. 54, 1992, pp. 7\u201318.  Heidi Hartmann et al., 'Bringing Together Feminist Theory and Practice: A Collective Interview', _Signs_ , vol. 21, no. 41, 1996.  Temma Kaplan, _Crazy for Democracy: Women in Grassroots Movements_ , London, Routledge, 1997, p. 1.  Patricia Williams, _The Alchemy of Race and Rights_ , Cambridge, Mass., Harvard University Press, p. 149. See also John Anner, ed., _Beyond Identity Politics: Emerging Social Justice Movements in Communities of Color_ , Boston, South End Press, 1996. Reporting on the wave of black and immigrant-based struggles in the USA over the last decade, in all of which women have played a critical role, Anner similarly points to the need for shared political ideals to forge bonds between diverse 'identities' and communities of interest.  See Etienne Balibar, 'Ambiguous Universality', _Differences_ , vol. 7, no. 1, 1995.  For example, see Barbara Epstein, 'Why Post-structuralism is a Dead End for Progressive Thought', _Socialist Review_ , vol. 25, no. 2, 1995.  See Paul Hirst and Grahame Thompson, _Globalization in Question_ , Cambridge, Polity Press, 1996; Simon Bromley, 'Globalization', _Radical Philosophy_ , no. 80, Nov.\u2013Dec. 1996.  Paul Hirst and Grahame Thompson, 'Globalization: Ten Frequently Asked Questions and some Surprising Answers', _Soundings_ , no. 4, Autumn, 1996, p. 62.  Kim Moody, _Workers in a Lean World_ , London, Verso, 1997.  Theresa Ann Sears, 'Feminist Misogyny; or, What Kind of Feminist Are You?', in _Generations: Academic Feminists in Dialogue_ , ed. Ann Kaplan and Devoney Looser, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1997, p. 269.  Kathleen Hulley, 'Interview with Grace Paley', _Delta: Grace Paley_ , no. 14, May 1982, p. 32.  Jean-Fran\u00e7ois Lyotard, _The Postmodern Condition: A Report on Knowledge_ , trans. Geoff Bennington and Brian Massumi, Minneapolis, University of Minnesota Press, 1984.  See the many interesting essays along these lines in Elizabeth Long, ed., _From Sociology to Cultural Studies_ , Oxford, Blackwell, 1997.  Cary Nelson, 'Manifesto of a Tenured Radical', New York, New York University Press, 1997, p. 51. See also Peter Osborne and Lynne Segal, 'Culture and Power: Interview with Stuart Hall', _Radical Philosophy_ , no. 86, Nov.\u2013Dec. 1997.  Barbara Johnson, _The Wake of Deconstruction_ , Oxford, Blackwell, 1995, pp. 94, 85.  See Judith Butler, 'Merely Cultural', _Social Text_ , nos 52\u201353, Fall\u2013Winter, 1997.  Alan D. Sokal, 'Transgressing the Boundaries: Towards a Transformative Hermeneutics of Quantum Gravity', _Social Text_ , nos 46\u20137, Spring\u2013Summer, 1996. For insightful discussion, see Ellen Willis, 'My Sokaled Life', _Village Voice_ , 25 June 1996, pp. 22\u20133.  Martha Nussbaum: 'The Hip Defeatism of Judith Butler: The Professor of Parody', _New Republic_ , 22 Feb. 1999, pp. 37, 43.  Ferdinand Mount, 'Death and Burial of the Utopian Feminist', _Sunday Times_ , 14 Dec. 1997, p. 15.  See, for example, Debbie Epstein et al., ed., _Failing Boys: Issues in Gender and Achievement_ , Milton Keynes, Open University Press, 1998.  David Collinson and Jeff Hearn, eds, _Men as Managers, Managers as Men: Critical Perspectives on Men, Masculinities and Managements_ , London, Sage, 1996.  In the late 1990s in Britain Susie Orbach and Andrew Samuels founded the pressure group Antidote, aiming to put the insights of psychotherapy to various political uses, ranging from the classroom to informing government policy.  David Sexton, 'Time to Dump the F-word', _Evening Standard: Features, 2_ Feb. 1999, p. 23.  Such sentiments were expressed by several feminists when interviewed by Nicci Gerard for the newspaper feature 'Where are they Now?', _Observer Review_ , 21 Dec. 1997, p. 5.  Mitchell, in Moi, 'Psychoanalysis, Feminism, and Polities', _Materialist Feminism_ , special eds Moi and Radway, p. 945; emphasis in the original.  Natasha Walter, _What is the New Feminism?_ , London, Little, Brown, 1998, p. 4.  Ibid., pp. 34, 9.  Helen Simpson, 'Lentils and Lilies: A Story', in _On the Move: Feminism for a New Generation_ , ed. Natasha Walter, London, Virago, 1999, p. 111. In her introduction (p. 3), Walter refers to Jade Beaumont as providing 'a heroine for our time'.  Sue Himmelweit, 'Not Much of a Choice', _Red Pepper_ , Oct. 1996, p. 25.  For example, Sadie Plant, _Zeroes and Ones: Digital Women and the New Technoculture_ , London, Fourth Estate, 1997.  Juliet Schor, _The Overworked American: The Unexpected Decline of Leisure_ , New York, Basic Books, 1991; WFD\/Management Today survey, London, May 1998.\n\n# Index\n\n##\n\n  * abuse , , , ; _see also_ child abuse; child sexual abuse\n  * academics, memoirs \n  * activism , \u2013, , , 271n59\n  * adaptationism , \u2013, , , \n  * Adolescent Family Life Act \n  * adolescents \u2013, , , \n  * AIDS \u2013, , \u2013\n  * Aitkenhead, Decca 244n92\n  * Alpert, Jane \n  * Altman, Dennis \u2013\n  * altruism , \n  * American Psychiatric Association , \n  * American Psychological Association \n  * _American Psychologist_ \n  * American Sociology Association \n  * American Women in Psychology \n  * amnesia \n  * Amos, Valerie \n  * androgyny \n  * Anner, John 271n59\n  * anthropology \u2013, , \n  * anti-pornography , , 270n38\n  * anti-statism \n  * Anzald\u00faa, Gloria \n  * Archer, John , \n  * Argentina, Mother of the Plaza de Mayo \n  * Armstrong, Louise \u2013\n  * Arnot, Madeleine \n  * Asian women strikers \u2013\n  * autobiographical material \u2013, , , \u2013\n  * Avise, John\n\n##\n\n  * baboons: _see_ primatology\n  * Balibar, Etienne \n  * Balint, Michael , \n  * Barash, David , \n  * Barrett, Mich\u00e8le , 234n6\n  * Barthes, Roland \u2013\n  * Bartlett, Frederick \n  * Bashevkin, Sylvia \n  * Baudrillard, Jean _66_ , \n  * Baxandall, Rosalyn \n  * Beer, Gillian \n  * behaviour: cultural causes ; gendered ; genetics , , , ; memory \u2013; phenotypes ; universalism \n  * Beijing Declaration , 268n16\n  * Bern, Sandra \n  * Benefit Integrity Project \u2013\n  * Benjamin, Jessica , , , \n  * Benn, Melissa \n  * Bertram, Corrine \n  * Beyene, Yewoubdar \n  * Bhabha, Homi \n  * Billig, Michael \n  * binary oppositions , \n  * biology ; absolutism ; culture \u2013, \u2013, ; diversity ; psychology ; sociobiology , \n  * biotechnology \u2013, \u2013\n  * black activism \n  * black culture \n  * black feminism , , , , , , \n  * Blair, Tony , , , \n  * Blakemore, Susan \n  * Blakenhorn, David , \n  * Bleier, Ruth \n  * Bloom, Harold \n  * body: ambiguities \u2013, , 246n122; castration ; female , \u2013; mapping ; materiality ; pregnancy \u2013; prosthetic \u2013; reclaimed , ; as site of resistance \n  * Bolin, Anne \u2013\n  * Bollas, Christopher \n  * Borch-Jacobsen, Mikkel , \n  * Bornstein, Kate \n  * Bowlby, Rachel \u2013\n  * boys , , \u2013; _see also_ mother-child relationships\n  * Braidotti, Rosi \u2013\n  * breast cancer \n  * Breen, Dana \n  * Bronfen, Elizabeth \u2013\n  * Brown, Wendy \n  * Brownmiller, Susan , \n  * Bruner, Jerome \n  * Buhle, Mari Jo \n  * Bunch, Charlotte \n  * Burman, Erica \n  * _Business Week_ \n  * Buss, David , , , \n  * Butler, Judith: bodily ambiguities ; cultural studies ; drag , ; feminist theorizing , , , 235n12; gender as performance , \u2013, 242n66; gender\/sexuality ; Lacan \u2013, ; pregnancy ; transgenderism \u2013\n\n##\n\n  * Cade, Toni \n  * Campbell, Bea \n  * cancer \n  * capitalism \u2013, , \u2013\n  * Carby, Hazel \n  * care-based ethic \n  * career\/mothering conflicts , \u2013; _see also_ work\n  * Castells, Manuel \n  * castration , , , , \n  * Cavarero, Adriana \n  * Charcot, Jean-Martin \n  * Chasseguet-Smirgel, Janine \u2013\n  * cheater detection , \n  * Chenevix-Trench, Anthony \u2013\n  * child abuse , , \u2013, \n  * child sexual abuse , 250n78; cultural backlash \u2013; feminism , \u2013, \u2013; Freud \u2013, , ; incest , ; memory , \u2013, ;Woolf \u2013\n  * childcare, single mothers \n  * childhood: care\/gender ; domestic violence ; Freud ; memory , , \u2013, \u2013; psychic life , ; sexuality , , , , ; trauma \u2013, ; _see also_ adolescents; boys; girls; infants\n  * Chodorow, Nancy , , \u2013\n  * Chomsky, Noam \n  * Christian, Barbara \n  * Cixous, H\u00e9l\u00e8ne , , , \n  * class: feminism ; oppression ; and race ; rape acquittals ; trade unions ; welfare benefits \n  * Cl\u00e9ment, Catherine \n  * Clinton, Bill , , \u2013\n  * Clough, Patricia \n  * cognitive differences \n  * cognitive psychology , \u2013\n  * Cohen, Michele \n  * collective action , , \n  * commodification, body \u2013\n  * competitiveness , \n  * Connell, Bob , , , \n  * consciousness-raising , , , 235\u20136n31\n  * Conway, Martin \u2013\n  * Cornell, Drucilla , \n  * Cosmides, Leda , , \n  * Coward, Rosalind \n  * Crawford, Mary , \n  * Crews, Frederick , \u2013, \n  * Crick, Francis \n  * cross-dressing , \n  * cultural feminism , , , \n  * cultural narrative , \n  * cultural studies , \u2013\n  * culture: behaviour ; and biology \u2013, \u2013, ; black ; gender ; and genetics ; oppression ; and politics ; psychoanalysis \u2013; sexuality , , \u2013\n  * cyberspace ,\n\n##\n\n  * Daly, Martin , , \n  * Darwin, Charles , \u2013, \u2013\n  * Darwinism , , \u2013, \u2013, , 249n42\n  * Davies, Michele \n  * Dawkins, Richard , , , , \u2013, , \n  * de Beauvoir, Simone , \u2013, \u2013\n  * de Jong, Looren \n  * de Lauretis, Teresa \n  * de Salvo, Louise \n  * de Saussure, Ferdinand , \n  * de Vore, Irven \n  * de Waal, Frans \n  * Deaux, Kay \n  * deconstruction , , , \n  * deferred action , \u2013, \n  * Deleuze, G. \n  * Demos \n  * Dennett, Daniel \n  * dependence , , ; _see also_ welfare dependency\n  * depression gene \u2013\n  * Derrida, Jacques , , , \n  * desire , , , \u2013, \u2013, , \n  * deviance, sexual \n  * Dews, Peter \n  * Didion, Joan \n  * diff\u00e9rance \n  * difference: cognitive ; gender \u2013, , ; and identity \u2013; politics , , 238n74; _see also_ sexual difference\n  * difference theory , \u2013, , \u2013, \n  * Dimen, Muriel , , , , , , \n  * disabled, welfare \n  * discourse and practice \n  * disease, genetics \u2013, , \n  * dissidence, sexual \u2013, \n  * DNA , , \u2013, , \n  * DNA testing , \n  * Dollimore, Jonathan \n  * domesticity \u2013, , ; _see also_ family life\n  * domination: institutionalized ; language ; male \u2013, , 236n35, 263n52; sexual \n  * Douglas, Mary \n  * drag , , \n  * Duckworth, Gerald and George \u2013\n  * Dunant, Sarah \n  * Dunbar, Robin \u2013\n  * DuPlessis, Rachel \n  * Dworkin, Andrea , ,\n\n##\n\n  * Eagleton, Terry , \n  * Eagly, Alice \n  * Ebbinghaus, Hermann , \n  * economy, feminized \n  * Edelman, Gerald \n  * educational performance, gender , \u2013, 262n53\n  * _Educational Reforms and Gender Equality in Schools_ \n  * Ehrenreich, Barbara , , \n  * Einon, Dorothy \n  * Eisenstein, Zillah \n  * Eissler, Kurt \n  * Eldredge, Niles , \n  * Elshtain, Jean Bethke , \n  * employment , , ; _see also_ work\n  * employment training \n  * environmental pollutants , \n  * Epstein, Barbara \n  * Equal Rights Amendment, USA \n  * equality feminism \u2013, , \n  * ethnicity , ; _see also_ race\n  * Etzioni, Amitai \n  * eugenics , , \n  * evolutionary biology \u2013, , \u2013, \n  * evolutionary psychology , \u2013, , \u2013\n  * experience , \u2013, , \u2013\n  * Eysenck, Hans , , \n  * Eysenck, Michael \u2013\n\n##\n\n  * Fairbairn, Ronald \n  * false memory \u2013, , \u2013, \n  * False Memory Syndrome Foundation \n  * family background , , , \n  * family life: conservatism ; dysfunctional ; gender relations \u2013, ; sexual abuse ; state ; structure , ; values \u2013; welfare \n  * fathers , , , \n  * Fedigan, Linda , \n  * Felski, Rita \u2013\n  * femininity ; anxieties ; Freud ; identification ; imaginary , ; and masculinity , , , , ; mothering \u2013; oppression \u2013; otherness , \u2013; power ; psychic \u2013; social construct , , \u2013; stereotypes \u2013\n  * feminism , \u2013, \u2013, \u2013; anthropology \u2013; capitalism \u2013; child sexual abuse , \u2013, \u2013; class ; collective action ; conflicts within , , , , \u2013, nl4; cultural backlash \u2013, ; Darwinism \u2013, \u2013; deradicalized \u2013; discourse\/practices , , ; exclusions , \u2013; Foucault \u2013; Freud \u2013, , ;Lacan , \u2013, ; metaphors \u2013; object-relations theory , \u2013; politics ; and post-structuralism , , \u2013, ; psychoanalysis , , , \u2013, \u2013; psychology , \u2013; psychotherapy ; sexuality ; societal transformation \u2013, , , ; solidarity \u2013; subjectivity \n  * feminisms , , , \u2013; academic , , \u2013, , \u2013; black , , , , , , ; cultural , , , ; difference-based ; equality \u2013, , , ; ethnic minority ; French , \u2013, \u2013, \u2013, 237n58; Italian ; Kristeva ; lesbian , \u2013; liberal ; materialist \u2013; modernist ; post-modern ; post-structuralist \u2013; power \u2013; radical \u2013, , ; second-wave \u2013, , , \u2013, , ; seventies ; socialist , , , , \u2013, , , , \u2013, \u2013, ; third wave ; Third World \n  * feminist literary criticism \n  * feminist publishing , \n  * feminist studies , , \u2013\n  * feminist theorizing \u2013, , , 235n12\n  * feminization of economy \n  * _Le Figaro_ \n  * Fine, Michelle \n  * Firestone, Shulamith \n  * First, Elsa \n  * Flanders, Laura \n  * Flax, Jane , \n  * Fletcher, John \n  * Fliess, Wilhelm , \n  * Flockhart, Calista \n  * folk psychology , \n  * Fonagy, Peter \u2013, \u2013\n  * Foot, Paul , \n  * Foucault, Michel , \u2013, \u2013\n  * Fouque, Antoinette , \n  * France: _see_ French feminism\n  * Frankfurt School \n  * Franklin, Rosalind \n  * Franks, Suzanne , \n  * Fraser, Nancy \n  * Fraser, Sylvia \n  * French feminism , \u2013, \u2013, \u2013, 237n58\n  * Freud, Anna \n  * Freud, Sigmund \u2013, ; child sexual abuse \u2013, , ; childhood ; deferred action , \u2013, ; femininity ; feminists \u2013, , ; homosexuality ; hysteria , \u2013, 254n21; _The Interpretation of Dreams_ \u2013, ; loving\/working ; masochism ; memory , , ; Oedipus complex \u2013; seduction theory , \u2013; self-deception ;\n  * self-exploration , ; sexual desire \u2013; sexual difference , , ; subjectivity \n  * Friedan, Betty \n  * Friedman, Susan Stanford 235n14\n  * fundamentalism , , , , \u2013\n\n##\n\n  * Gagnon, John \n  * Gallop, Jane , , \n  * gay gene , \n  * gay studies , \u2013; _see also_ queer theory\n  * gay subculture , ; _see also_ homosexuality\n  * Geertz, Clifford \n  * gender , , , , \u2013; behaviour ; child sexual abuse \u2013; cultural dynamics ; difference \u2013, , ; educational performance , \u2013, 262n53; evolutionary theory ; identity , , , , , , , \u2013; inequity ; not transcended ; observer , ; oppression ; passing ; as performance , \u2013, 242n66; and power , ; psychology ; and race ; Scott \u2013; and sex \u2013, , , \u2013; and sexuality , , , \u2013; social construct , , , , \u2013; social relations ; social sciences \u2013; subjectivity , ; symbolic construct \u2013; transgressions \n  * gender anxieties , \u2013, \\- , \u2013, \n  * Gender Identity Disorder \u2013\n  * gender relations ; changing ; family \u2013,  justice , ; masculinity \u2013; modernity 253n52; politics ; social movements ; transformed ; work \n  * gender roles , , \n  * gender theory \u2013, \u2013, \n  * gene splicing \u2013\n  * genetic predispositions \n  * genetics , \u2013, \u2013; behaviour , , , ; cancer ; and culture ; determinism \u2013; disease \u2013, ; gender roles , ; homosexuality ; politics ; research \n  * genital ambiguities \u2013, , 246n122\n  * Gibson, Suzanne \n  * Gilbert, Walter \n  * Gilligan, Carol , , \n  * Gilman, Charlotte Perkins \u2013\n  * girls, adolescent , \n  * globalization , , \u2013\n  * Glover, Edward \n  * Goldman, Emma \n  * Goldner, Virginia , \n  * Goodall, Jane \n  * Gordon, Linda , \n  * Gornick, Vivian \n  * Gould, Stephen Jay , \u2013, , , \u2013, \n  * Greer, Germaine , , \n  * Grosz, Elizabeth \n  * growth hormone \n  * Guntrip, Harry\n\n##\n\n  * Haaken, Janice , \n  * Hacking, Ian , \u2013, , , \n  * haemophilia , \n  * Halberstam, Judith \n  * Haldane, J. B. S. \n  * Hall, Stuart \n  * Hamer, Dean \n  * Haraway, Donna \u2013, , \u2013, \n  * Harris, Adrienne \n  * Harris, Arlene \n  * Harris, Judith \n  * Heilbrun, Carolyn \n  * Herman, Judith \n  * Heron, Liz \n  * heterosexuality , \u2013; coercive ; compulsory ; gender identity ; Greer ; marriage ; masculinity \n  * Hibbert, Christopher \u2013\n  * Hinshelwood, Bob \n  * history \u2013, \u2013, \n  * Hochschild, Arlie \n  * homicide \n  * homophobia \n  * homosexuality , , , ; _see also_ gay subculture; lesbianism; queer theory\n  * Horkheimer, Max \n  * Horrocks, Roger \n  * Hrdy, Sarah Blaffer \n  * Hubbard, Ruth , , \n  * Human Genome Project , , \u2013, \n  * human rights , \u2013, 238n74\n  * Huxley, Aldous \n  * Huxley, Julian \n  * hysteria , \u2013, 254n21\n\n##\n\n  * identity , ; desire ; and difference \u2013; gender , , , , , , , \u2013; politics of , ; postmodern \u20131n35; sexual , ; social construct ; unconscious ; vulnerable \n  * ideology \n  * imaginaries , , \n  * incest , , , \u2013, \n  * _Independent_ \n  * individualistic ethic \n  * industrial action \u2013\n  * infanticide, female \n  * infants ; genital ambiguity \u2013, , 246n122; sexuality , , \n  * International Women's Day march \n  * interpersonal skills \u2013, \n  * Intersex Society of North America \u2013\n  * lrigaray, Luce , , , , , \n  * Italian feminism\n\n##\n\n  * Jacklin, Carol , \n  * Jacobus, Mary \n  * Janet, Pierre \n  * Johnson, Barbara \n  * Jones, Steven \u2013, , \n  * Jukes, Adam \u2013\n\n##\n\n  * Kaplan, Cora 270n48\n  * Kaplan, Temma \u2013\n  * Keller, Evelyn Fox \n  * Kenrick, Douglas \n  * Kernberg, Otto \n  * Kessler, Suzanne , 246n122\n  * Kevles, David \n  * Kierkegaard, S. \n  * Kimmel, Michael \u2013\n  * kin selection \n  * Kinsey report \n  * Klein, Melanie , , , \n  * Koshland, David \n  * Kristeva, Julia , , , \n  * Kuhn, Thomas\n\n##\n\n  * labour divisions \u2013, \n  * Lacan, Jacques: Butler on \u2013, ; feminism , \u2013, ; memory\/truth , ; patriarchy \u2013; phallocentrism , , , \u2013; sexual difference \u2013, \u2013; symbolic \u2013, , , ; women\/lack , \n  * Lancaster, Roger \u2013\n  * language , , , \u2013, \u2013\n  * Laplanche, Jean , , \u2013, \u2013\n  * Latin America, transgenderism \n  * Laufer, Egl\u00e9 \n  * Lee, Hermione \n  * Lee, Richard \n  * left wing , , ; _see also_ socialist feminism\n  * leisure \n  * Lemoine-Luccioni, Eug\u00e9nie \n  * lesbian feminism , \n  * lesbian theorizing \u2013, \u2013, \u2013\n  * lesbianism: castration ; desexualized \u2013; desire ; as dissidence ; genetics ; primates ; rights ; _see also_ queer theory\n  * Levant, Ronald , \n  * Levenstein, Harvey \n  * Levine, Judith \n  * L\u00e9vi-Strauss, Claude , \n  * Lewis, Gail \n  * Lewontin, Richard , , , \u2013\n  * liberalism , \n  * Loftus, Elizabeth \n  * Lorde, Audre\n\n##\n\n  * MacCannell, Juliet Flower \n  * Maccoby, Eleanor \n  * McDowell, Deborah \n  * Macey, David \n  * McGuffin, Peter \n  * machismo \n  * McIntosh, Mary , \u2013, \n  * MacKinnon, Catharine , , \u2013, , , \n  * Mailer, Norman , , \n  * mallard ducks \n  * Mama, Amina \n  * managers, skills \u2013, \n  * Marcus, Laura \n  * marriage , \n  * Mars-Jones, Adam \u2013\n  * Martin, Biddy \u2013\n  * masculinity: as abstraction \u2013; Bhabha ; in crisis \u2013, \u2013, \u2013; and femininity , , , , ; gender relations \u2013; heterosexual ; inferiority ; liberalism ; men's anxieties , , ; phallic ; power ; psychic \u2013; reforming \u2013, \u2013, \u2013; shoring up ; and women \u2013, \n  * masochism \n  * Masson, Jeffrey , , , \u2013, \u2013, \n  * mating strategies \u2013, \n  * meaning and representation \u2013\n  * memes \n  * memoirs, academics \n  * memory \u2013; affective , ; and amnesia ; behaviour \u2013; child sexual abuse , \u2013, ; childhood , , \u2013, \u2013; cognitive psychology \u2013; false \u2013, , \u2013, ; as fiction \u2013; Freud , , ; and history \u2013; psychoanalysis , ; repressed ; storage\/retrieval ; trauma , \u2013\n  * men: competition , ; dominance \u2013, , , 236n35, 263n52; gender anxieties , , \u2013, \u2013, \u2013, ; as managers \u2013, ; mother-son relationship , \u2013, \u2013; patriarchy ; power , , , , ; self-esteem \u2013; sexuality , ; social inequality , , , ; suffering \u2013; as universal ; violence , , , \u2013, , , , 249n42; vulnerabilities , , , ; Wright \u2013; _see also_ masculinity\n  * men's studies , \n  * mentors \n  * Merck, Mandy \n  * mestiza \n  * midwives, reports on violence \u2013, , 269n22\n  * Miller, Alice \n  * Miller, Jacques-Alain \n  * Million Man March \n  * mimesis \n  * misogyny , , , \n  * Mitchell, Juliet , , , , , , , \n  * Mitchell, Stephen \n  * Mohanty, Chandra , \u20131n35\n  * Moi, Toril , \n  * monkey studies: _see_ primatology\n  * Morgan, Robin \n  * Morrison, Toni \n  * mother-child relationships , \u2013, \u2013\n  * motherhood , , \u2013, , ; _see also_ single mothers\n  * Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo \n  * Moynihan, Daniel , \n  * Mulhern, Francis \n  * multinationals , , \n  * Multiple Personality Disorder , \u2013\n  * murder, husband-wife \n  * Mysterud, Iver\n\n##\n\n  * National Black Feminist Organization \n  * National Cancer Institute \n  * National Children's Home Action \n  * National Organization of Women \n  * natural selection , , , \u2013\n  * nature and history \n  * nature\/nurture \u2013\n  * Nelson, Cary \n  * neo-Darwinism , \n  * neo-liberalism \n  * Nestle, Joan , \n  * Netherlands, pregnancy \n  * neuropsychology , \n  * _New York Times Book Review_ \n  * non-adaptationism \n  * Nussbaum, Martha\n\n##\n\n  * Oakley, Ann \n  * object-relations theory , , \u2013, , \u2013\n  * observer, gender , \n  * Oedipus complex \u2013, , , , \n  * oncogenes \n  * oppression ; femininity \u2013; state ; women , , \u2013, 234n6\n  * Orbach, Susie \n  * other , , \u2013,\n\n##\n\n  * Paglia, Camille , \n  * Paley, Grace \n  * Parmar, Pratibha \n  * passing, gender \n  * paternalism , , ; _see also_ fathers\n  * patriarchy , , , \u2013, , , 263n62\n  * Patton, Cindy \n  * pederasty \n  * Peel, Mark \n  * penis , \n  * penis envy \n  * Perelman, Rosine Josef \n  * performance , \u2013, 242n66\n  * Person, Ethel , \n  * personal, and political \u2013, \n  * Peterson, D. \n  * phallocentrism , , , \u2013, \n  * phallogocentrism , \n  * phallus , , , \u2013, , \n  * phantasy , \n  * phenotypes, behaviour \n  * Phillips, Adam , \n  * Phillips, Anne , \n  * phyletic gradualism \n  * Pinker, Steven , , \n  * Pleck, Joseph , \n  * Plomin, Robert \n  * Plotkin, Henry \n  * Plummer, Ken , \u2013\n  * Policy Studies Unit \n  * politics , ; and culture ; of difference , , 238n74; feminism ; gender relations ; genetics ; identity-based , ; and personal \u2013, ; psychoanalysis ; queer , ; sex \n  * Pollack, William , \n  * Pollitt, Katha \n  * Pontalis, J.-B. , , \u2013, , \n  * Popenoe, David \n  * population control \n  * pornography \u2013, \n  * Porter, Roy \n  * post-modernism , , 240\u20131n35\n  * post-structuralism: Anglo-American response ; Derrida , ; and feminism , , \u2013, ; Foucault \u2013; identity \u2013; state \u2013\n  * Post-Traumatic-Stress-Disorder \u2013\n  * poverty , , , , \u2013\n  * power: abused ; and gender , , , , ; masculinity\/femininity ;\n  * phallic \u2013; sexuality ; societal  pregnancy \u2013, , \u2013, , 269n22\n  * pregnancy prevention \u2013\n  * pre-Oedipal attachments , , , \n  * primatology \u2013, \u2013\n  * promiscuity , , \n  * Prosser, Jay , \u2013, 243\u20134n89\n  * psychic life , \u2013; analysis ; child , ; masculinity\/femininity \u2013; particularities ; sexuality ; and social \u2013\n  * psychoanalysis: cultural context \u2013; feminism , , , \u2013, \u2013; gender identity \u2013; memory , ; men's power ; political need ; psychology , , ; sexual difference , \u2013, ; women practitioners \n  * psychobisexuality \n  * psychology: biological ; cognitive , \u2013; fear of the mind ; feminism , \u2013; gender ; genetics \u2013; neo-Darwinism ; and psychoanalysis , , ; quantitative\/qualitative studies , \u2013, \u2013, \u2013; social \n  * psychotherapy , , \n  * public school life \u2013\n\n##\n\n  * queer politics , \n  * queer self-presentations \n  * queer theory , , , \u2013, 243\u20134n89\n\n##\n\n  * race: activism 271n59; and class ; feminism \u2013; and gender ; oppression ; post-modernism 241n35; poverty ; school performance \n  * racism , \n  * radical feminism \u2013, , \n  * rape , , , \n  * rape-adaptation hypothesis \u2013\n  * Raphael-Leff, Joan \n  * Rapping, Elayne \n  * Rathbone, Eleanor \u2013\n  * Reagan, Ronald \n  * _Redbook_ \n  * Reed, Lynn Raphael \n  * Reid-Pharr, Robert \n  * representations \u2013, \n  * reproduction , , , \n  * resistance , , \u2013, \n  * responsibility, personal \n  * Rich, Adrienne , , \n  * Ricoeur, Paul \n  * Riggs, Marlon \n  * right wing \u2013, , \n  * Riley, Denise , \n  * Robbins, Bruce 238n74\n  * Romito, Patrizia \n  * Romney, Patricia \n  * Roper, Michael \n  * Rose, Hilary \u2013\n  * Rose, Jacqueline , , , \n  * Rose, Steven , , , , \n  * Rosen, Ruth \n  * Ross, Andrew , , \n  * Rowbotham, Sheila , \u2013, \n  * Rubin, Gayle , , , , \n  * Rush, Florence , ,\n\n##\n\n  * Samuels, Andrew \u2013, \n  * Schacter, Daniel \n  * schizophrenia \n  * Schneider, Monique \n  * school failure, gender , \u2013, 262n53\n  * Schor, Juliet \n  * Schreber, Daniel Paul \u2013\n  * _Science_ \n  * scorpionflies \n  * Scott, Joan , , \u2013, \u2013, \n  * Sedgwick, Eve Kosofsky \n  * seduction theory , \u2013\n  * Segal, Hanna \n  * Segal, Lynne , , \n  * self-deception \n  * self-esteem \u2013\n  * self-exploration , \n  * self-help books , , \n  * selfish gene \u2013\n  * sex ; desire , \u2013, \u2013; domination ; and gender \u2013, , , \u2013; identity , ; politics ; and reproduction , , ; roles , \n  * sex education \u2013, \u2013\n  * sex-reversed species \n  * sexual abuse , ; _see also_ child sexual abuse\n  * sexual difference: cultural analysis , , \u2013; feminism , \u2013; French feminists ; Freud , , ; Lacan \u2013, \u2013; language \u2013; psychic life \u2013; psychoanalysis , \u2013, ; similarities , , \u2013; social context ; stereotypes \u2013\n  * sexual harassment , \n  * sexual selection , \n  * sexuality: ambiguous \u2013, , , 246n122; childhood , , , , ; culture , , \u2013; deviance ; dissident \u2013, ; Foucault \u2013; and gender , , , \u2013; lesbian \u2013; male , ; passivity , ; pleasure ; power ; psychic\/social relations ; transgressive \u2013\n  * Showalter, Elaine \n  * Shulman, Alix Kates \n  * signifiers , \n  * _Signs_ \n  * Silverman, Kaja \n  * Silverstein, Louise \n  * Sinason, Valerie , \n  * Sinfield, Alan , \n  * single mothers , \u2013, , \u2013, \n  * Sinsheimer, Robert \n  * sisterhood , , \u2013\n  * skin colour \n  * Small, Meredith , \n  * Smith, Anna Marie \n  * Smith, Barbara , , \n  * Smuts, Barbara \n  * Snitow, Ann , \u2013, , \u2013\n  * Socarides, Charles \n  * social constructionism: femininity , , \u2013; gender , , , , \u2013; identity ; psychology \u2013\n  * social contexts \u2013, , \n  * social inequality ; adolescents \u2013; gender relations ; men , , , , ; race ; women , \n  * social justice , \n  * social learning theory \n  * social movements , , \n  * social role theory \n  * social sciences \u2013, , , \n  * social transformation \u2013, , , \n  * socialist feminism , , , , \u2013, ; and equal rights \u2013, \u2013; and right wing \u2013; social transformation , , \n  * sociobiologists , \n  * Sokal, Alan \n  * solidarity, feminist , \u2013\n  * Spence, Donald \n  * Sperling, Susan , \n  * Spivak, Gayatri , , \n  * Stacey, Judith , \n  * state , \u2013, , , 236n35\n  * Steedman, Carolyn \n  * stereotypes , \u2013, \u2013\n  * Stern, Daniel \n  * Stoller, Robert \u2013, \n  * Strobel, Margaret \n  * subcultures , \n  * subjectivity , , , , , \n  * subordination , \u2013; _see also_ oppression\n  * survival , , \n  * Sutherland, Stuart , \n  * Swaab, Dick 244n92\n  * Sweden, as social democracy \n  * symbolic, Lacan \u2013, , , \n  * Symons, Donald\n\n##\n\n  * Tavris, Carole \n  * Tax, Meredith \n  * Terr, Leonore \u2013\n  * Thatcher, Margaret \n  * Thornhill, Randy \n  * Tiefer, Leonore \n  * Tooby, John , , \n  * Toynbee, Polly \n  * transgenderism \u2013\n  * transgression , \u2013\n  * transsexualism \u2013, , , \u2013, 244n92\n  * transvestism , \n  * trauma , \u2013, , , , \u2013\n  * Trivers, Robert \n  * Trost, Melanie \n  * Trowell, Judith\n\n##\n\n  * UN Fourth World Conference on Women \n  * unemployment \n  * Unger, Rhoda \n  * universalism: behaviour ; false , ; masculine ; models ; truths \u2013\n  * USA: culture wars ; Equal Rights Amendment ; feminism , , \u2013, , ; incest \u2013; leisure ; masculinity \u2013, ; memory\/trauma \u2013; men\/universal ; National Organization of Women ; sex education \u2013; sexual abuse ; welfare reforms \u2013; Women's Liberation ; women's studies\n\n##\n\n  * Van Der Steen, W. J. \n  * Van Haute, Philippe \n  * _Village Voice_ \n  * violence: domestic , , ; male , , , \u2013, , , , 249n42; against women \u2013, , 268n16, 269n22\n\n##\n\n  * wage levels , \n  * Wald, Elijah , \n  * Walker, Alice \n  * Walter, Natasha \u2013\n  * Walter, Suzanna \n  * war veterans, trauma \u2013\n  * Warner, Michael \n  * Watney, Simon \n  * Watson, James , , \u2013\n  * Weinberg, Simon \n  * Weiss, Robert \n  * Weisstein, Naomi \u2013\n  * welfare benefit cuts \u2013, \u2013, \n  * welfare dependency \u2013, \n  * welfare entitlements , , \u2013\n  * welfare reform , , \u2013, \u2013\n  * welfare-to-work \n  * Wexler, Nancy , \n  * Williams, Patricia \n  * Williams, Raymond \n  * Williamson, Judith \n  * Wilson, E. O. , \n  * Wilson, Elizabeth , \n  * Wilson, Margo , , \n  * Winnicott, Donald , \n  * Wittig, Monique , \n  * women , \u2013; divisions ; empowering ; gender issues , ; human rights issues ; independence ; lack \u2013, ; and men , \u2013, ; oppressed , , \u2013, 234n6; Other ; paid\/unpaid work \u2013, , \u2013; reproductive cycle , ; resistant to change ; social status , , \u2013\n  * Women's Liberation , \u2013, , ; and feminism ; Ruskin College conference ; social transformation \u2013, ; social-feminism \u2013\n  * women's movement , \n  * women's studies \n  * Women's WORLD \n  * Woolf, Virginia \u2013\n  * work: flexibility ; hours ; labour division \u2013, , ; paid\/unpaid , \u2013, , \u2013; _see also_ employment\n  * work ethic \n  * work incentives \n  * workfare \n  * Wrangham, R. \n  * Wright, Robert \u2013, \n  * Wyngaarden, James\n\n##\n\n  * Young, Allon\n\n##\n\n  * Zebrowitz, Leslie \n  * Zihlman, Adrienne \n  * Zita, Jacqueline \n  * \u017di\u017eek, Slavoj ,\n\n# **Wiley End User License Agreement**\n\nGo to  www.wiley.com\/go\/eula to access Wiley's ebook EULA.\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"FORREST WOLLINSKY: PREDESTINED CROSSROADS\n\n[Book Three]\n\nBy\n\nLeonard D. Hilley II\nCopyright \u00a9 2016 Leonard D. Hilley II\n\nNocturnal Trinity Press\n\nAll Rights Reserved\n\n# Table of Contents\n\nTitle Page\n\nCopyright Page\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Predestined Crossroads (Forrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter, #3)\n\nChapter One\n\nChapter Two\n\nChapter Three\n\nChapter Four\n\nChapter Five\n\nChapter Six\n\nChapter Seven\n\nChapter Eight\n\nChapter Nine\n\nChapter Ten\n\nChapter Eleven\n\nChapter Twelve\n\nChapter Thirteen\n\nChapter Fourteen\n\nChapter Fifteen\n\nChapter Sixteen\n\nChapter Seventeen\n\nChapter Eighteen\n\nChapter Nineteen\n\nChapter Twenty\n\nChapter Twenty-One\n\nChapter Twenty-Two\n\nChapter Twenty-Three\n\nChapter Twenty-Four\n\nChapter Twenty-Five\n\nChapter Twenty-Six\n\nChapter Twenty-Seven\n\nChapter Twenty-Eight\n\nChapter Twenty-Nine\n\nChapter Thirty\n\nChapter Thirty-One\n\nChapter Thirty-Two\n\nChapter Thirty-Three\n\nChapter Thirty-Four\n\nChapter Thirty-Five\n\nChapter Thirty-Six\n\nChapter Thirty-Seven\n\nSign up for Leonard D. Hilley II's Mailing List\n\nAlso By Leonard D. Hilley II\nThis ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.\n\nThis is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author.\n\n\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\u2013\n\nFor Christal, as always.\n\n\"For almost every decision we make, there is always an unforeseen consequence not discovered until after it's too late.\"\u2014Forrest Wollinsky\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter One\n\nWinter 1889\n\nThe journey to deliver Varak, the half-blood vampire, to the Archdiocese in Freiburg, Germany was one of the harshest routes I had ever traveled, not to mention, one of the most depressing.\n\nWhen I had promised Albert the Were-rat that my father and I would escort the child across several countries to the proposed destination, my ambition had not taken into account the approaching fierce winter. Due to the rugged terrain, the frigid winds, and snow mixed with ice, traveling was painstakingly slow. Several times we had encountered mountain passes that were too treacherous to cross, forcing us to find an inn, seek an alternate route, or set up a campsite in the shelter of a crag until the road was cleared.\n\nIn many ways the obstacles seemed to dictate that delivering this child to the archbishop was being frowned upon by Fate and by the higher powers that had chosen me as a Vampire Hunter. These hindrances were warnings we were meant to heed, but acting upon my promise to Albert and due to my undying stubbornness, we continued onward.\n\nThis half-blood child was diabolical and should not be allowed to live. As an infant he appeared harmless, and indeed that was true, at least on the surface. In time, however, once he gained awareness of the charismatic persuasion power contained within him, he could usher forth as a fiendish tyrant worse than anything the world had yet seen. In my soul there was no denying this to be the solid truth. My nightmares continually reinforced these fears.\n\nThere would be grave consequences for protecting Varak and keeping him alive. A hefty penalty would be demanded by the powers that had chosen me. I understood that, but never in a thousand lifetimes would I have ever imagined how great that cost would be.\n\nIn addition to these dilemmas surrounding Varak, I grieved over Jacques' absence. The loss of his companionship made me ache inside. While I was happy that he and Matilda were going to have a child, he had been more like a father to me than a cousin and I selfishly suffered jealousy that his attentions and fatherly affections had turned elsewhere. In less than a year's time, I had lost my mother, Rose, and now Jacques. Off and on, Father seemed absent. Even though he traveled alongside me, his mind obsessed over other factors.\n\nFather slept on the seat across from me in the coach. He had bundled a heavy blanket into a wad, pressed it against near the corner of his side window, and used it for a pillow. Across his lap was a thick wool rug he favored to use as a blanket. Madeline sat with her back in the other corner with her legs slightly pointed toward Father. She had wrapped a small woolen blanket around Varak and cradled him in her arms.\n\nI sat on the seat across from them. Because of my height and width, I almost required the entire seat just to sit down. Neither of them could have squeezed in beside me had they wanted to. Sleeping comfortably along the journey had been nearly impossible for each of us.\n\nThe temperature inside the coach wasn't much warmer than the outside cold except we were protected from the bitter biting winds and snow. Our breath was visible when we exhaled, and I couldn't imagine how our coachman, Thomas, had been able to withstand the extreme wintery conditions seated near the top of the coach. Thomas wore two thick overcoats, heavy gloves, and double thick woolen britches, which possibly wasn't enough to keep him warm, but he had never complained one time.\n\nThe coach suddenly bounced, jarred us sharply, and creaked on what had been, until that moment, one of the smoothest roads we had traveled. The coach tilted to one side, so I slung my weight to the opposite side of my seat to counter it, which was possibly the only thing that prevented our coach from tipping over.\n\nThomas shouted at the horses, \"Whoa!\"\n\nI pulled the curtain slightly aside and peered through the ice-covered window. Dusk was upon us, making the thick forest trees along the road's edge even more ominous. Uncertainty settled over me since we had stopped in such a foreboding place. Thomas had insisted we had enough daylight to make the next village before nightfall where we could find a small inn. But this unexpected delay was inevitable.\n\nStrange misfortunes continued to plague us throughout this journey, and I had a difficult time shunning my suspicions that they kept occurring because of this child.\n\n\"What is it, son?\" Father asked, arousing from his sleep. \"Why have we stopped?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I don't rightly know.\"\n\nMadeline gently rocked Varak in her arms. She smiled when I caught her gaze. The cute dimples at the edges of her narrow lips deepened. Her bright eyes sparkled, reminding me of Rose, and even though I ached inside, I couldn't resist smiling back. She had been kind and pleasant company during our trip, and I found her endearing like a lovesick fool in spite of our age difference.\n\nThe were-rat had chosen Madeline to accompany us to Freiburg to tend to Varak. She and Father had taken a liking toward one another, and at times the two acted like Varak was their own child, which disturbed me. It troubled me more that Father behaved that way since he knew what the child really was. She and Thomas didn't know because Father and I had sworn to maintain secrecy concerning the infant.\n\nFather sat upright, pulled his curtain aside, and peered out the window at the growing darkness. \"Well, boy, aren't you going out to see what's the matter?\"\n\nI reached for the door latch. \"I suppose I am.\"\n\nStepping outside the coach, I was rewarded with a harsh welcome of cold wind whipping across my bearded face. I shuddered. Thomas stood in front of the horses. The hard thin layer of snow crunched beneath my feet as I approached him. \"What's wrong?\"\n\nHe pointed. \"Bridge is blocked.\"\n\nRocks and snow had fallen onto the road and covered part of the bridge. The howling wind whistled across the narrow stream below. Most of the rocks didn't look too large or heavy, but clearing the path would take several hours. I walked to the roadblock and hefted one of the larger stones, tossing it aside.\n\n\"Forrest,\" he said. \"It will be dark in less than a half hour. We should focus more on setting up camp and getting a fire started. We can worry about moving the rocks in the morning. From the looks of it, we might be better off finding an alternate route come morning.\"\n\nI glanced back toward the coach and nodded. He was right. Getting a fire started was the most important thing. Once the night set in, the temperatures would plummet. At the back of the wagon, I lifted a trunk lid and took out several small dry logs. Deeper in the forest, owls hooted. The piercing howls of wolves echoed.\n\nBefore I turned with the firewood, something on the road caught my attention. Farther behind the coach I noticed a deep trench had been dug across the road, which seem odd. It appeared freshly dug.\n\nThomas stood near the rocky ledge, looking down. With all of the extra clothes he wore, he looked like a massive man, but underneath all the layers he was actually medium framed and thin like my father. I wondered why this man had owed Albert a favor. He had readily accepted this task of providing his horse and wagon to drive us halfway across Europe without ever questioning our intent or offering a single complaint.\n\nThe were-rat had sought seclusion and remained hidden underground because he couldn't risk being seen by mortals, and yet, these two people who traveled with us had somehow become indebted to him? Even though I was curious, I didn't ask. We all had our secrets.\n\nI set the logs at the edge of the road and joined Thomas. He regarded me with nervous eyes, but only for a moment before he looked down again. The stream below wasn't large or fast flowing, so it seemed strange that it had divided the rocky outcrop in half with a several hundred foot gap over time. Water and wind weathered out gorges, ravines, and mountainsides, but usually those water currents were much stronger.\n\nIn the dimming daylight the view of the darkening cliffside was like the barrier that divided good from evil. I imagined dusk at this crag during the summer months was livelier with hundreds of bats swarming into the night on their hunt for insects. But, this winter night, the bats were dormant, silent.\n\nThe coachman removed a glove and broke away the snot icicles that had formed on his gray moustache and beard, ignoring the thin ice attached to his thick bushy eyebrows. He tried to hand comb his beard straighter before his nervous beady eyes glanced up at the narrow ridgeline that followed the road to the ravine where we stood.\n\n\"This might sound odd, Forrest, but this small avalanche didn't occur from nature. It's not by chance.\" His voice was a near whisper and shaky, but not from the cold.\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\nThomas nodded toward the cliffside. \"Somebody has intentionally blocked this roadway.\"\n\nGlancing up, I could see that most of the debris had fallen from the peak of the ridge not too long ago since no fresh snow covered the surface. The fallen debris had not crumbled from the side of the rocks. The top edge was barren with several long smooth logs lying at the edge where it appeared someone had used them to dislodge the stones to make them tumble onto the road.\n\n\"Since it was almost dark,\" I said, \"I don't know if you noticed or not, but there's also a trench dug across the road. That's what had made the coach nearly tip over right before you stopped the horses.\"\n\nHis bushy white eyebrows rose, and he stared back at the coach. \"Really? No, I didn't notice that, but I wondered why the coach rocked so hard.\"\n\nInstinct caught my attention and I gave a shrewd stare toward the coach. \"I think we'd best get back to the others and quickly.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nI started running. \"Either we're under attack or about to get robbed.\"\n\nFrom the dark edge of the woods, two shadowy figures slinked toward the side of the coach and yanked open the side door. Madeline screamed.\n\n\"Forrest!\" Father shouted. \"Help us!\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Two\n\nMore frantic screams echoed from my father and Madeline. I raced faster while patting my coat pocket for a weapon, finding none. Every weapon I possessed was in my Hunter box inside the coach. It's nearly impossible to sleep with sharp stakes in your coat pocket without getting pricked whenever shifting from side-to-side and much safer to store them in the box.\n\nMadeline shrieked. Someone dragged her from the side of the coach toward the forest, but she stubbornly resisted, planting her feet and pushing backwards. She clutched Varak in one arm while flailing her fist at the assailant gripping her elbow. Father dove out the side door and landed on her attacker's back, wrapping his arms tightly around the person's throat.\n\nBy the time I reached the coach, Varak had been pulled from Madeline's grasp by the other assailant who darted quickly into the thick dark forest.\n\nFather held the other man in a chokehold and fought to prevent the young man from getting away. The man's panicked eyes peered at me for only a moment before my huge right fist struck him unconscious.\n\n\"Tie him up!\" I shouted.\n\nWithout knowing the exact direction the other assailant had run, I rushed into the dark forest. The dense trees and underbrush made running nearly impossible, but I didn't slow my pace. Instead my broad body snapped dead branches as I ran headlong between the firs and pines. Thick bramble with sharp thorns fastened to my pants, ripping and tearing, but I ignored the pain.\n\nDusk faded, welcoming the darkness of night. The needled branches obscured visibility, so I chased after the crunching sounds several rows of trees over.\n\nMy mind raced almost as quickly as I ran. The roadblock had been deliberate, but these two weren't normal highwaymen. They had not blocked the road so they could rob us of our gold or valuables. Their goal had been to take Varak, and that alarmed me for several reasons.\n\nHow did they even know the child was with us? Who were they and why had they taken him? Did they know that he was a half-blood vampire?\n\nIf they didn't know Varak was a hybrid, they'd be easier to deal with once I caught them. But if they did know ... They held a more sinister agenda. They wanted him for his power and what he'd eventually become.\n\nBranches snapped against my body. I kept running. My lungs ached from the cold night air, but I continued moving, with my hands out before me, shoving aside the bristled tree limbs. Suddenly I wondered about Varak's welfare. Surely whoever was carrying the child through this dense forest had already injured him by moving through these trees so quickly. I couldn't see any way the infant could escape injury.\n\nThe floor of the forest sloped downward. A huge log lay before me. How I knew in the depth of darkness other than whispered instinct was beyond me. I leapt over the log and landed where the gradient was even steeper. I tried to slow my descent but my boots skidded on the thick layers of ice-covered moss, causing my feet to slip out from under me. I fell hard, rolled, and slid down the steep hill. When I stopped sliding at the bottom, I didn't move. I simply lay there. I held my breath and stayed completely still, listening for footsteps.\n\nNo doubt my theatrical display of plummeting downhill reaching and grabbing for anything to slow my descent had silenced everything in the surrounding forest. If chipmunks could laugh, they were rolling over one another inside their tiny dens. At least none of my family or companions had witnessed it.\n\nWithout a light source in hand, and since the moon had not yet risen, I was practically blind. Never had I wished Jacques was at my side more than I did now so he could guide me with his night vision. That was a trait I truly coveted.\n\nAfter several minutes of silence, the underbrush and dead leaves crunched about thirty feet away in what sounded like cautious footsteps. I pushed myself up slightly and craned my neck, trying to detect the sound better. My hand rested upon a thick solid stick that I could use for a sturdy club. I took it and rose to my feet.\n\nAs much as I wanted no part in delivering Varak to the archbishop in Freiburg, I couldn't abandon the child with strangers who might have darker motives for taking him.\n\nThe slow footsteps crept through the trees, but instead of heading away from me, they moved toward me. I slipped my back against a wide tree trunk, held my breath, and waited, gripping the club tightly with both hands.\n\nI had been in some dark eerie places before. Nothing was darker than a vampire's crypt at midnight, but standing deep inside this dark forest and not knowing what was approaching brought uneasiness to a new level. Footsteps pressed down leaves and brittle twigs, heading to the spot where I had abruptly stopped sliding down the hill. The person or creature sniffed the air, trying to find me I assumed, but the air was filled with the scent of earth, damp leaves, and moss, making it more difficult to pinpoint my exact location.\n\nBecause of the surrounding darkness, I still didn't know what I was about to confront. I tightened my grip on the thick tree branch and eased around the side of the tree, keeping my boots on the tree's massive roots to decrease the chance of making more noise. When I peered around the tree, green eyes glanced in my direction. Before the creature ran or attacked, I swung the branch low, narrowly grazing it.\n\nA wicked growl escaped its mouth. It snarled and snapped at me. What I had thought had taken the child and fled turned out to be a wolf. An angrier wolf since I had attacked it.\n\n\"Sorry,\" I whispered. \"My mistake.\"\n\nIt snarled and growled, unforgivingly.\n\nInstead of retreating, I advanced. I smashed the tree branch hard on the ground, inches away from the wolf. Realizing I was a bigger foe and not afraid of it, the wolf slowly turned and disappeared into the forest without any further confrontation. Thankfully, it was a wolf and not a werewolf. I stood there for a few minutes, listening and wondering where Varak was and who had taken him.\n\nThe forest remained eerily quiet except for my heavy breathing.\n\nNo more footsteps disturbed the forest floor while I listened. Finally after a half hour of waiting for some type of disruption, I decided to return to the coach. At least we had captured one of the assailants. He had answers to the questions burning in my mind, and he'd give me those answers, one way or another. Only, he didn't know it yet.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Three\n\nBy the time I fought my way back up the steep forest hillside, Thomas had a fire burning at the edge of the ridge. Father had set up a nice lean-to to block the cold wind while capturing the heat of the roaring fire. A bountiful stack of sticks and half-rotted logs lay near the tent, which seemed to be enough to keep the fire alive until daybreak. Wolves howled deeper in the forest.\n\nMadeline sat inside the lean-to sobbing while my father wrapped his arms around her shoulders, trying to console her. Her closeness to the child was understandable since she had been the one to nurture him for the past month and a half. I wondered how much of her affection was due to her role, and how much came from the child luring her with his mesmerizing eyes.\n\nI constantly felt his alluring power, which wasn't as strong as older vampires, but at least I was immune and able to resist his charms.\n\nNear the fire Thomas had bound our attacker's hands behind his back and the man sat on the edge of the road. His ankles were also tied tightly together. When Thomas noticed me standing at the edge of the forest, he met me at the road.\n\n\"Did you get his name?\" I asked.\n\nThomas shook his head. \"No. He has just awakened. You hit him pretty hard.\"\n\nI shrugged.\n\n\"I take it you lost his accomplice?\" he asked.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Why would they want the child?\"\n\n\"That's what I plan to find out.\" I walked toward the bound man, carrying the large club I had found in the forest.\n\nAfter I crossed the narrow road, the young man looked up at me with a slight sneer on his face. He looked to be in his early twenties. Shaggy black hair hung to his shoulders, and his beard was sparse. By his clothes he looked to be nothing more than an ordinary farmhand. His eyes weren't menacing like thieves I had encountered before, but some thieves were masters at playing innocent, often weaseling their ways out of blame.\n\n\"Why did you take the child?\"\n\nHe scoffed and shook his head, softly laughing.\n\n\"Where is he?\"\n\n\"In a place you'll never find him.\"\n\nI brought the branch up over my head and then swung it downward, striking his leg hard. He screamed and wailed. I'm certain if his hands weren't tied behind his back, he'd have hugged his leg. He fought to do so in spite of his tight restraints. His sudden tears glistened in the fire's glow. He panted with sharp sobs and looked at me with fear in his eyes.\n\nI examined the large stick and shook my head. \"I can't be certain if that cracking sound was from this tree branch or a bone in your leg. But I'm going to ask you once more. The next time I will strike your head, not your leg. Now where's the infant?\"\n\nThe man gulped air and whimpered. His defiance had disappeared and was replaced by intense fear. His voice became high-pitched and feminine when he replied, \"In the forest.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I'm aware of that. Where in the forest?\"\n\nHe looked at me nervously but didn't want to offer an answer. I brought the club up again. He closed his eyes tightly and bit his lower quivering lip.\n\n\"Don't!\" a woman said behind me. \"I have the child. No need torturing my brother. It's not worth it. Here, take the infant.\"\n\nI lowered the stick and turned to face her. The young woman stood with Varak in her arms. She must have left the forest when she realized we had retained her brother.\n\nHer long black hair flowed down her shoulders and outlined her pale face. Under different circumstances, without my anger focused toward them for abducting Varak, I might have found her partially attractive and attempted a more cordial conversation. Deception and theft immediately alienated me from any person, making him or her an instant enemy.\n\nShe was extremely thin, even her face. She stood a few inches above five feet in height. For a couple of moments, I questioned whether she was the one I had chased into the trees. In my rush to aid Madeline, the culprit had seemed so much larger. My imagination had magnified the person.\n\nHowever, unlike me, this young lady didn't have thorns stuck in her clothes or abrasions on her face from running through the tree branches. Of course, for all I knew, she probably had planned a quick route of escape ahead of time. If nothing else, she knew the forest much better than I. Or due to my desperation to find Varak, I might have run right past her if she had crouched down, waiting for her brother to join her.\n\nMy adrenaline waned, and the cuts on my legs and hands stung. I glared at her. \"Why did you take the boy?\"\n\nSeeing the child, Madeline rushed from the lean-to and reached for Varak in sheer desperation. The girl readily handed him to her. Madeline hugged the child close and hummed as she walked back to the safety of the shelter.\n\nThe young lady glanced toward her brother. \"Do you mind untying him? Hasn't Drake suffered enough? He's in quite a bit of pain.\"\n\n\"You answer my questions, and he's free to go.\"\n\nThe young man sobbed. His face creased from his agony, and he looked sick from the pain.\n\n\"We were offered a great deal of money to intercept you.\" Her demeanor was calm and her smile almost boastful. \"And to take the child.\"\n\n\"Why? By whom?\"\n\nShe shrugged.\n\nI pointed toward the roadblock. \"That was your doing?\"\n\nShe shook her head. Her long black hair flowed from side to side like soft velvety ribbons. \"His actually. Neither of us is strong enough to have done that. He did it for us.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nShe half smiled, somewhat proud. \"As a distraction so we had a better chance to take the child. His plan worked.\"\n\n\"Don't provoke him, Ruby,\" Drake said, his face strained. He leaned back, propping himself on his restrained hands.\n\nI said, \"But there has to be a reason why he set you up to do this.\"\n\n\"All we know is that he has placed a bounty upon that baby,\" Ruby said. \"He told us if we didn't want to do this, he had others who would. We had aimed to collect it.\"\n\nMy jaw tightened. \"So you're willing to kidnap an infant for money?\"\n\nShe appeared hurt by my accusation, even though it was the truth. \"Times are hard. With winter upon us, we have no food and are hungry. The bounty is more money than we'd ever earn in a year working the fields. But we'd have never hurt the little boy.\"\n\n\"How do you know the man who hired you won't?\" I asked.\n\nHer eyes shifted back and forth while she thought. \"I ... we really don't know. I'm sorry, but we never considered his purpose.\"\n\nAt least she was being more honest now. Perhaps her need for money had blinded her. Hunger caused people to do hasty things, and as frail as she looked, she was probably near starvation.\n\n\"Why does he want the child?\"\n\n\"He didn't say exactly.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"It makes no sense why he'd hire the two of you instead of coming after us directly.\"\n\nHer brother whined. \"That's what we had asked him, too.\"\n\nThomas and Father came and stood beside me.\n\n\"And what was his reason?\" I asked.\n\n\"That there'd be less complications if we or someone else did it instead of him.\"\n\nFather glared at her. \"How's that?\"\n\nRuby's nervous eyes flicked from my father back to me. \"He looked a lot like you.\"\n\nI frowned. \"In what way?\"\n\n\"Other than him being much older and his face scarred, you're similar from a distance. The type of clothes you wear, the hat, and he said that he was a ... Hunter. Sounded quite odd the emphasis he had placed on that word since people hunt all kinds of animals in these forests. There's nothing unusual about that. But he insisted he didn't wish to fight against another Hunter.\"\n\nFather gave me an uneasy glance. She was ignorant of what the man had meant, but I understood fully. I didn't like the idea of fighting another Hunter, either. Doing so went against everything the Chosen were ordained to do. We were to be allies with one another, not enemies. But I knew why he wanted Varak, which wasn't something he'd have told these two when he had offered the reward. He planned to kill the child. I held no doubts about that.\n\n\"Did he give you his name?\" I asked.\n\nRuby stared at the ground, deep in thought. Her eyebrows rose, and she looked at me. \"Philip.\"\n\n\"If you had succeeded in taking the baby, where would you have met to exchange?\"\n\n\"In town. At the tavern.\"\n\n\"Which tavern?\"\n\nShe smiled. \"There's only one there.\"\n\nI glanced at Father. \"Can I borrow your knife?\"\n\nFather took it from its sheath and handed it to me.\n\nI knelt beside Drake and cut through the knots of the restraints binding his hands and feet. He immediately reached for his leg, wincing.\n\nRuby stood beside him and offered to help pull him to his feet. At first he was hesitant, but finally he took her hand and she pulled. When he placed weight upon it, he cried out and shook his head.\n\n\"It's broken, Ruby,\" he said, lifting his foot off the ground and bracing against her for support.\n\n\"You broke his leg,\" she said, glaring at me.\n\nI frowned back with a harsher stare. \"Yes, but he's still alive. Had I been forced to hunt you down in the forest to get Varak, it might have been much worse for the both of you. You kidnapped a baby and you think you should go unscathed? In some cities a person could kill you for what you've done and never be charged for such an offense.\"\n\nRuby stood in stunned silence thinking about what I had said. She offered no further argument and helped her brother hobble closer to the fire.\n\nThomas shook his head and walked to the coach. Since it had been a while since we had eaten, I guessed he was going to prepare something for us to eat.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Four\n\nFather and I stood near the road. He looked at me with great concern. \"Another Hunter wants Varak?\"\n\n\"Seems so.\"\n\n\"What will you do?\"\n\nI sighed. \"Continue on to Freiburg like I promised.\"\n\n\"You ... um ... don't think he'd try to kill you, do you?\"\n\n\"It's possible,\" I said, trying to hide my nervousness.\n\n\"Does he want Varak so he can kill him?\" Father asked.\n\n\"That'd be my guess.\"\n\n\"How would he even know about the child or where we are for that matter?\"\n\nI took Father by the elbow and walked farther away from the others so they couldn't hear our conversation. \"In my heart I know what Varak will become. You know it too. I have no doubt about where his destiny ends. All of this was discussed with Albert, but none of us would do what needed to be done.\"\n\n\"You mean killing him?\"\n\nI nodded. \"Even now, I cannot do something like that. I just can't. Because I'm essentially protecting Varak by taking him to the archbishop, another Hunter has been issued to do what we have not.\"\n\n\"And this Hunter will kill you if necessary so he can kill Varak?\"\n\n\"I believe he will try.\"\n\nFather's eyes hollowed. He shook his head. \"Then give him the child, Forrest. Let the other Hunter perform his sworn duty.\"\n\n\"As much as I'd like to be done with this entire ordeal, handing the child over to another Hunter is the same as me breaking my promise.\"\n\nHe sighed. \"Which is worth more? Your life or Varak's? We know what Varak will evolve into. By keeping your promise you've also put a mark upon your head.\"\n\nI nodded. \"Yes, I've thought about this a lot during the past few weeks while we've been traveling. I've struggled inside.\"\n\n\"See? Then do what's right. Your promise is a violation of your duties, isn't it?\"\n\n\"That's what I fear. Since I've placed myself on the wrong side of my calling, a hefty price will be required of me. What exactly? I have no idea.\"\n\n\"Forrest, you should reconsider what you're doing. It's not safe to betray those who have granted such blessings to you.\"\n\nThe brightness of the moon shone over the ridgeline. Father's face was grim as he stared at me. His emotions stirred, but probably less deeply than my own. He looked away and turned to face the fire, watching Madeline. The longing in his eyes for her was obvious.\n\nSadness shadowed his voice. \"Son, I'm certain you realize how much I covet the gift you have. At times, I've not been able to hide my jealousy.\"\n\n\"I know,\" I said softly.\n\n\"Other than your mother giving birth to you, nothing else would have been as great to me as being one of the Chosen. Only the two of you I have held in higher esteem, so don't forsake your calling.\"\n\n\"So, if you had been Chosen, you'd kill this infant?\"\n\nFather remained silent. He didn't look toward me.\n\n\"Father, you couldn't stake Bodi because he was a small boy. I don't fault you for that, but I've seen the way you and Madeline act with Varak. You nor I could harm him, in spite of the knowledge we have.\"\n\nHe sighed. \"You're right, son. I couldn't either. But, if we manage to get Varak to Freiburg, I might lose you. That's not something I'm willing to sacrifice.\"\n\n\"You're not considering\u2014\"\n\n\"No, let me think on this for a while. There must be another solution.\"\n\n\"I hope so, but believe me, I've tried looking at every angle while we've traveled.\"\n\n\"We can sleep on it,\" Father said, glancing toward me. \"Maybe we'll know better in the morning.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"We cannot wait here until morning. Not with this other Hunter wanting Varak.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"What do you propose we do?\"\n\n\"I'm clearing the road.\"\n\n\"Now? In the dark?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"We'd be a lot farther east if this roadblock had not been set. Besides, I'm not left with any other choice. The more distance we put between us and Philip, the better.\"\n\n\"Why not meet with the Hunter and talk it out?\"\n\n\"There's no negotiation over this matter, Father. I assure you.\"\n\n\"We need to find a way.\"\n\n\"Go warm yourself, Father, and get something to eat. Make sure the girl and her brother get plenty to eat, too. I'll move enough rocks where the wagon can pass, and we'll move on.\"\n\n\"During the night? It'd be safer for us to remain near the fire.\"\n\nI didn't bother continuing the argument. I turned and started heaving aside the rocks. I understood Father was tired, and being scrunched on the narrow coach seat made his aching legs hurt even more. Sleeping was nearly impossible, especially for me. The coach was also cold, even if a pile of quilts was stacked upon us. The cold weather made his legs hurt worse.\n\nAfter a few minutes of his silence, I paused and looked over my shoulder. He had already returned to the fireside where he held his hands close to the flames. The bright flames revealed the comfort on his face.\n\nWhile I tossed more rocks, my mind delved to find understanding and reasoning for how Philip had learned about Varak so quickly. He was determined to obtain the child, and if his goal was to kill Varak, Philip had to be a seasoned Hunter. Age-wise I had recently turned nine-years-old, so I wasn't hardened to emotions like I'd eventually become. Since my childlike mind was still more compassionate, I viewed Varak as an infant and not a detrimental threat to the world\u2014yet.\n\nI wanted to believe what Albert had suggested. Having this child reared by a person of high moral standing might alter his future thirst for becoming an uncontrollable heartless tyrant. If there was even the slightest hope, and I had to admit, it was very slight, Varak deserved the chance to circumvent the expected destiny that lay before him. Like Hunters feared one of our own becoming a vampire, I imagined the fear a hybrid bestowed to the vampire hierarchies if he proclaimed himself an enemy of all vampires and sought to eradicate them. He could succeed without much of a challenge because he held the upper hand.\n\nThat slightest chance of hope was what I clung to at the moment, and yet, this Hunter knew where we were. How? The most probable reason was that his Hunter instinct had prompted him to act, but the more I thought about the situation, the less likely that seemed.\n\nAfter all, Albert had mentioned that it was almost impossible for a Hunter to discern a hybrid, at least not until after its bloodlust had overtaken all sensibility and rationality, and he left behind a massacre for the Hunters to discover.\n\nBut Varak was a child and his powers had yet to mature, so he couldn't attract the attention of a Hunter. Other than my father and myself, the were-rat and his boys were the only ones who even knew about Varak being a half-blood. With the superstitions most Gypsies kept, it was unlikely Esmeralda would have even told those closest to her that the child was a half-blood vampire. I was fairly certain they never knew she had been turned into a vampire, so it was doubtful any of them had sent the Hunter after Varak since he was one of their descendants. They, like her, would seek to keep him alive. So that left Albert, the were-rat.\n\nI found it difficult to believe Albert would have betrayed us and sent this Hunter after Varak. Had he done so to test my loyalty? Surely if this other Hunter approached me, he'd challenge me for the child and harshly rebuke me for not doing what was expected of a Hunter. If I refused to surrender the boy, Philip would go to any means necessary to get Varak, even kill me.\n\nI didn't like the idea of fighting another Hunter, but faced with such a situation, I'd have no other option. For Varak to live, I needed to remain alive.\n\nThen, the forewarning Albert had given dawned upon me. He had said that one day I'd be faced with the task of killing someone who wasn't an undead or a supernatural creature. I'd be forced to kill another human and the ordeal would forever taint me inside, breaking my resolve to remain pure and making me colder. The were-rat seemed determined to set all the proper elements into place, leaving me with no other choices but to follow through.\n\nA rise of anger pulsed through me. I began throwing the rocks aside quicker. His betrayal cut deeply. I had trusted Albert, and he had stood with us to destroy Duke Raginwulf and the Gypsy witch, but he had done so probably more for his own advantageous needs rather than for London's or my own.\n\nNow I wondered if Albert had been the one who had sent the vampire Trenton after me, nearly killing me, and then left the bounty money the following morning.\n\nWhat was his purpose?\n\nMy mind raced.\n\nTurning Varak over to the Archdiocese directly contradicted my duties as a Hunter. My disobedience wrought dangers that I now recognized. Albert might have sent this Hunter to pursue us, however, many more might be summoned to track me and slay the hybrid because of my disobedience to the Chosen.\n\nWhile that might explain Philip's reasons for following us, it didn't explain why the Hunter needed to hire the brother and sister to kidnap the child. Neither had the fighting skills or ruthlessness to succeed. He had to have known that by looking at them. They were simply poor desperate farmhands who needed food more than money. And whom he was using for a greater advantage.\n\nRuby had mentioned the rockslide had been used for ... a distraction. I hurried to throw, roll, and hurl the last rocks off the road and bridge that allowed enough room for the coach to pass.\n\n\"Everyone get into the wagon!\" I shouted.\n\nEveryone around the fire paused and looked toward me with great alarm.\n\nI ran toward them.\n\nHow could I have allowed myself to be misdirected again?\n\nFather hobbled toward me. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Get in the wagon. Thomas, get to the coachman seat. We need to get out of here. Now.\"\n\n\"Son, what's going on?\"\n\n\"The Hunter. He's here.\"\n\n\"What? Are you certain?\"\n\nI nodded and pointed at Madeline. \"Get Varak into the coach. Hurry.\"\n\n\"Forrest,\" Father said. \"You're acting like a madman.\"\n\nI opened the coach door and grabbed my Hunter box. \"Get into the wagon, Father. We don't have much time.\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\" he asked.\n\n\"Father, get into the wagon.\" I dug through my box, grabbing my dagger, and the gun. \"The Hunter's here.\"\n\nFather frowned. \"Here? He's nowhere around.\"\n\n\"He's been here the entire time. Now, let's move. Otherwise we might all be dead,\" I replied.\n\nThomas sat on the driver's seat and nervously grabbed the reins. I helped Madeline step up into the coach. Father kept looking around but made no attempt to get inside. Finally I grabbed him by the back of his coat and heaved him through the coach door.\n\n\"No need for that,\" he said, frowning.\n\nAfter I placed what few weapons I could use to defend myself against a Hunter, I closed the Hunter box and slid it onto the seat.\n\nRuby stood beside Drake and offered her hand to help him stand.\n\nI shook my head. \"You two stay here.\"\n\n\"What?\" She whined with a feel-sorry-for-me face. \"You're going to leave us here and him with a broken leg?\"\n\n\"Ask the man who hired you for help, if you need a way home. Besides, there's no room for the two of you in the coach.\" I nodded toward Thomas and pointed. \"Head on across the bridge.\"\n\n\"You're not riding with us?\" Thomas asked.\n\n\"No. I'm following along on foot to keep watch,\" I replied. \"I will catch up with you.\"\n\n\"No need for that, Forrest,\" a man said. \"Just hand over the child and you're free to go. We'll have no troubles or contentions between us.\"\n\nI turned to see the Hunter behind me. He was a massive man, my equal in height and weight, if my assumptions were correct, but he was a lot older and more experienced at everything a Hunter knew. The scars on his face were visible even through his beard. His eyes were cold and his gaze was worse than any vampire's heartless stare, sending chills down my back. He had survived a lot of fights and his severe scars testified to that fact. It didn't take but a second's time to realize he wasn't a sensible person.\n\nI shook my head. \"I'm afraid I cannot allow that.\"\n\nA wild grin crept across his face. It was the answer he had hoped to hear. He pulled a dagger from his belt. \"Then your problems are just beginning.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Five\n\nI never had to say another word to Thomas, nor did he hesitate, as our danger was evident. He leaned forward, cracked the whip above the horse's head, causing it to bolt ahead, pulling the coach forward toward the bridge. He then snapped the reins and yelled commands until the horse was running at full speed.\n\nPhilip faced me with his knife at his side. The ease at which he held the blade informed me that this was his weapon of choice and one he enjoyed using. His menacing gaze indicated he was eager to shed blood. Mine.\n\nAlthough I held my dagger, it was with far less confidence. I frowned at him, attempting to be more intimidating, but my lack of scars was a fairly good indicator of my fighting inexperience. \"So that's it? You're just going to attack another Hunter?\"\n\nHis jaw tightened. \"You were given a choice.\"\n\n\"Hunters don't kill other Hunters. There's already too few Hunters in this world without us killing one another.\"\n\nWith the number of vampires escalating, we needed more Hunters than what were in the world. Those of the Chosen were few. Many like my father coveted being tapped with such a calling, so much so that I had encountered self-appointed Hunters who foolishly hoped to make their fortunes slaying vampires but instead reaped early graves. Being a Hunter I could discern an actual Hunter. And Philip was definitely one.\n\nHe frowned. \"Your actions contradict what you've said. The number of vampires has increased. But from what I understand, you've gone rogue and that child with you is a half-blood, which is far more dangerous than a legion of vampires. So you've proven yourself useless to our cause.\"\n\n\"Is that what Albert told you?\" I asked.\n\nMentioning the name jolted him slightly, causing his eyes to widen slightly, but he rebounded quickly without replying.\n\nI grinned. \"That's what I thought. Hunter instinct didn't reveal to you what the baby is or his location. The were-rat sent you with the knowledge.\"\n\n\"Does it rightly matter where I got the information since you're one to ignore the dangers of what a half-blood could do if left to survive?\"\n\n\"It does matter, actually.\"\n\nPerplexed, Philip gave me an odd stare and chuckled. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Because Albert didn't want to kill the child, either. It was he who insisted we take the child to Freiburg's cathedral for the archbishop to rear. This was his idea, but for my father and I, it was a setup.\"\n\n\"So the were-rat duped you?\" He shrugged.\n\n\"And you, too, apparently.\"\n\nHe ground his teeth. \"The child still cannot be allowed to live. There isn't any need for blood to be shed between the two of us, Forrest. As you've already stated, Hunters shouldn't attack one another. Just let me do my duty. I'll be on my way and you can be on yours.\"\n\n\"No. I won't allow you to harm him.\"\n\n\"Why would you keep this child alive?\"\n\n\"Because there is hope that his destined path can be altered.\"\n\nPhilip's brow narrowed. Fury set in his gaze. \"You're a fool. You cannot coddle a poisonous asp and expect it to gradually acquire affection for you. Eventually it turns and bites you. Regardless of how well you have treated it, it is still deadly and will kill you without hesitation at the first opportunity that arises. A half-blood is no different.\"\n\n\"He is an infant\u2014\"\n\n\"Don't be blinded by the smallness of the vessel. It's the vile content, deep inside, which longs to come to the surface. It will only magnify and never lessen.\" He pointed his dagger at me. \"You need to realize it is not human.\"\n\n\"He is half.\"\n\n\"Fool! Have you been mesmerized by its gaze? Has he charmed you into being his servant?\"\n\n\"No,\" I replied. \"I'm immune to\u2014\"\n\nPhilip nodded with a sly grin. \"See? You've already felt his power. Upbringing will not lessen what he already is.\"\n\n\"Time will tell.\"\n\nThe Hunter lunged toward me and slashed his dagger. I recoiled but almost failed to avoid the blade. \"Seems we're at a standstill when it comes to reasoning.\"\n\n\"There isn't any rationalization with you.\"\n\nHe came at me again. I watched his eyes, waiting for him to strike. He looked to the left, I reacted, but his hand made an underhand slice to the right. His eyes had deliberately tricked me. The sharp blade split open a long section of my thick coat sleeve, narrowly missing flesh. He took a quick step back and then shot forward again. This time I kept my eyes on his dagger, stepped slightly to the side, and gripped his wrist tightly. I yanked him in the direction he had thrust the blade, and pulled him off balance.\n\nHis feet fought to slow his momentum but he was unable to gain traction upon the icy edge of the road. He fell forward and rolled into the thick bramble.\n\nI considered running to catch up with the coach, but I wasn't certain how fast this Hunter was. If he were swifter, he'd catch up and attack me from behind. Plus, I wasn't certain what other weapons he might have.\n\nFrom the dark embankment he growled and rose. In the light of the campfire his eyes looked dark and sinister and nothing like I imagined an aged Hunter's eyes to appear. I worried if this was what I'd eventually look like after years of slaying vampires. His frigid gaze fastened upon me. Death gleamed in his eyes. Like I had felt power leap from aged vampires, a similar energy stirred around him, not necessarily evil, but not untainted either.\n\n\"You're a young Hunter, aren't you?\" he asked, cocking a brow. He sensed my weaknesses compared to what power he yielded. \"Na\u00efve and trusting, that's why you won't kill the child.\"\n\nHe stepped from the embankment and walked slowly across the road toward me. His eyes regarded me in the same manner mine often viewed vampires and other undead creatures. He was enslaved to his need to kill. I was his enemy, only because I had chosen to hope Varak could somehow be redeemed. But I wasn't foolish. I knew my limitations. I wasn't strong enough to beat him. His rage overrode my strength. In a knife fight, he'd shred me open and watch me bleed to death. He held no compassion for me, no mercy.\n\nI never expected to fight to the death with another Hunter. It wasn't something I had ever imagined until after I had taken Varak. I understood why I was Philip's enemy.\n\nHe leaned forward and rushed toward me with lightning speed. His blade was extended outward so he could plunge it into my gut, or change the angle quickly and slash me high or low. I wasn't certain how to defend his advance. Even though my blade was out, I was too worried about getting stabbed to consider a counterattack.\n\nMy mind focused on the blade and his swift advance. The blade shone in the fire's light. Before he was able to stab or slash, I attempted to run, but I tripped over my large feet and tumbled sideways. I pivoted, fighting my fall, but I had nothing to grab to correct my balance.\n\nThe Hunter turned slightly, trying to follow my accidental direction and slice me with the blade, but I fell outside his reach. His right boot caught my feet, tripping him. He hit the ground, growled out of frustration, and rolled around to get up. From behind Ruby swung the club and struck him in the back of the head hard, sending him to the ground unconscious. He dropped so fast the pain had never registered on his face.\n\nShe held the club overhead, staring down at Philip, waiting to see if he was going to try to get up again. Until this moment, I had completely forgot about her and Drake. After she was satisfied that he wasn't getting back up for a while, she lowered the club and with bewildered eyes, she stared at me. \"Did he say that he wanted to kill that baby we had taken?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"It's best you don't know.\"\n\n\"What's a half-blood? The baby looked normal to me,\" she said.\n\nI ignored the question and nodded toward the Hunter. \"Thanks for ... \"\n\nRuby grinned. \"Thanks for the food.\"\n\nI took some of the longer twine that Drake had been tied with earlier before I had cut through the knots. I flipped Philip facedown and tied his wrists together tighter than normal, hoping he didn't possess the strength to snap the restraints. I didn't want him to get loose until someone happened upon him and cut him free.\n\n\"Ruby, you two don't need to be nearby when he awakens, but with Drake's leg, I can't see any quick way for you to get far.\"\n\n\"You regret breaking my leg now?\" Drake asked.\n\nI narrowed my gaze at him, and he swallowed hard. \"Perhaps a little. But don't forget why I did what I did.\"\n\nI reached into the Hunter's coat pockets and found his wallet and coin pouch. I tossed them to Ruby. She smiled. \"When we first met him, he had a horse.\"\n\n\"Did he?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"Then it's probably tied nearby. But I've never heard one.\" Tied horses grew impatient and usually protested with some type of nay or stomping of feet. \"Wait here.\"\n\nDrake scoffed. \"Where do you think I'll go?\"\n\nI grinned. \"Not far.\"\n\nI jogged along the crude mountain pass road until a soft whinny caught my attention. Tied at the edge of the road was a dark mare. I untied her, swung up onto the saddle, and rode back to the campfire.\n\n\"You're taking it for yourself?\" Ruby asked. \"When my brother's injured?\"\n\nSwinging off the saddle, I shook my head. \"No. I'm going to help Drake onto the saddle, and then you slide in front of him. Ride to your home, but not too quickly. You don't want Drake to fall off. You might not be able to get him on the horse again, or a fall might hurt his leg even worse.\"\n\nRuby tucked her long strands of hair behind her ears and offered a radiant smile. After helping them both onto the saddle, I searched the saddlebags and took all the Hunter's weapons stored inside.\n\n\"What kind of weapons are those?\" she asked.\n\nI shrugged. \"Let's hope you never need to find out. Now, you two head on home.\"\n\n\"You just going to leave the Hunter there?\"\n\n\"I'm sure someone will come along in the morning to free him.\"\n\n\"And if they don't?\" she asked.\n\n\"I imagine he'll become quite cold after the fire dies down. Now go.\"\n\nRuby tapped the mare's sides softly. The horse began walking.\n\nOnce they were farther away, I searched through Philip's pockets and took any other Hunter weapons he had. I found his dagger on the ground and tossed it over the ravine and hoped it landed in the stream. Even if it didn't, I doubted he'd ever find it again. Other than Dominus I had encountered a few Hunters without contention but none had befriended me like Dominus, and I hated being on this one's bad side. Under the current conditions, there was no redeeming myself with Philip. I needed to catch up to the others, and we needed to put a lot of distance between this aged, mentally disturbed Hunter and us.\n\nTraveling faster to Freiburg might help, but Philip already knew our destination. Albert had told him. Albert had mentioned that our paths would probably pass again. After his betrayal, to that I held no doubts. I definitely intended to seek the were-rat out in the future, but our meeting would not be pleasant. He had a lot of explaining to do.\n\nStaring at Philip's face, I worried that I'd become what this man was, and that deeply disturbed me. I supposed even the righteous slayings of vampires and the undead affected a person's mind over time. Shoving a stake into the heart of a vampire was justified, but the subconscious could become suppressed from guilt since in appearance a vampire still looked like a human. Dominus had partly warned me, but I truly hoped to keep my sanity intact regardless of the number of vampires I slayed during my travels. While awake, slaying vampires was different than what can be projected in a nightmare where the mind doesn't necessarily distinguish the living from the undead.\n\nAs I hurried down the road toward the bridge, I thought about the issue at hand. Weighing both sides of the arguments, I was still torn in making a solid decision. There wasn't any accurate way to predict what was best. I had chosen mercy and hope for a child that might eventually possess neither in his regard for society.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Six\n\nAfter I had crossed the bridge and rounded the next bend of the descending mountain road, I realized I might end up walking through the night before I ever caught up to my father and the others. But at least the moon shone brightly in the clear night sky.\n\nWolves howled in the wooded valley below.\n\nThe large oaks and maples on both sides of the road weren't tightly knit together like the pine and fir forest I had run through when I had searched for Varak. No thick underbrush and bramble weaved in-between the tree trunks, either. The moonlight cast odd shadows through the leafless canopy and at times, I could have sworn somebody was running from one tree to the other, following me.\n\nShoving my hands into my coat pockets, I gripped a stake in each gloved hand. While I was fairly certain Philip was still restrained, I didn't believe I was alone. Besides, Philip wasn't one who would hide amongst the trees. As angry as he'd be when he finally awoke, if he caught up to me, he'd be certain to make a direct attack. However, since Ruby and Drake had left on his horse, his journey on foot slowed him down quite a bit.\n\nA part of me worried that leaving him bound and weaponless had not been the right thing to do. I didn't know what lurked in this mountainous area, but if a vampire came upon Philip, it wouldn't hesitate to drain the Hunter's blood or possibly turn him into one of the damned, creating something as bad as what Varak was. I cringed. It would be my fault and another iniquity against the Chosen, something that would ensure additional penance.\n\nThe Hunter had left me little choice though. He could kill me; I could kill him, or we surrendered the child to him to kill. None were outcomes I favored.\n\nCrisp leaves smashed underfoot in the forest. When I stopped, the crunching sounds did as well. I picked up my pace, disliking the shadowy trees more and more by the second. As I walked, the footsteps followed.\n\nThe wind howled, slicing through the trees and causing me to tighten my coat near the collar and tip my hat forward. The frozen road crunched under the thudding of my heavy steps. Whoever or whatever was in the forest kept its distance and seemed to avoid being seen whenever I glanced toward the trees. Perhaps it followed me from its curiosity, and I was fine with that, as long as it never charged toward me to attack.\n\nWhile watching the trees from the corner of my eye, my mind returned to Albert again. I couldn't make any sense out of why he had set us up. His actions surrounding Varak were sinister and hypocritical. Several times he had offered to turn me into a were-rat, but I had declined. I couldn't see that being the reason he'd sent the Hunter after us. If he were truly vindictive about my decision, he could have clawed or bitten me in the tunnels during our pursuit of the vampire or the Gypsy witch, but he had never made any such attempt. He seemed to honor my refusal without bitterness, which was why his underhanded betrayal angered me.\n\nSomething else troubled me now as I continued down the road. Thomas and Madeline. Albert had offered their services to me because these two owed him favors, but I wondered if that were true. After encountering a Hunter dead set on killing me for the baby, were these two we traveled with trustworthy or did they have ulterior motives?\n\nThe descending road arced toward the left. I partway jogged. I was about a mile from the small town we had intended to reach before the roadblock had slowed our pace.\n\nTo the right side of the widening road, the forest ended. A crude rock wall lined the edge of the road, perhaps to prevent a wagon or coach from slipping over the embankment during the icier times of the winter, but it also offered a nice overlook of the town below.\n\nA flickering torch caught my attention. Parked farther down at the edge of the rock wall was our coach. Thomas stood in front of the horse with a bag of feed slipped over the horse's mouth. Frothy sweat dripped from the horse and steam rose off its body.\n\nThomas turned at the sound of my heavy footsteps. He gasped. I guessed his reaction was from how the brightness of the moon had obscured my shadow on the roadway, but I was wrong. It was what stood behind me that horrified him. The air grew even colder, making my next breath so painful that I expected it to be my last.\n\nI sensed something behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I swung around to the shadowed outline of a creature that made me flinch. My eyes adjusted enough for me to see more details. Its ears were pointed. The creature was nude. Its skin was ebony and hairless. Its bald head was dome shaped. The beady red eyes shimmered like flames and it had rows of sharp jagged teeth.\n\nAt first glance, I thought this was a ghoul. I grabbed the torch from the sconce on the coach.\n\n\"No, Forrest,\" Thomas said. \"Don't. It's a plague-demon. If it touches you, you'll die within minutes.\"\n\nWas this what had followed me through the forest?\n\nThe demon gnashed its teeth. I held the torch between it and me. Small bubbling pustules formed all over its skin, swelling and popping, leaking pus, and cycling through the little eruptions over and over.\n\n\"Fire won't hurt it,\" Thomas said.\n\n\"How do you know this?\" I asked.\n\n\"Because it has come for me.\"\n\nI stared at him over my shoulder. \"What?\"\n\nHe nodded. Fear shrouded his face. \"Albert sent it.\"\n\n\"Albert?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"He sent this demon after you? Why? To kill you?\"\n\nA look of utter gloom overshadowed his face. \"I owed him a debt. One I could never repay. He offered me a challenge that either freed me of what I owed or I paid with my life. Either way, I didn't owe him anything afterwards.\"\n\n\"What was the deal?\"\n\nThomas sighed. \"If I could get you, your father, and the child to Freiburg before the plague-demon caught up to us, I kept my life and owed him nothing, provided I never returned to London.\"\n\n\"And after you died, we became essentially stranded?\"\n\nThomas looked down. \"Yes.\"\n\n\"Well, you're not dead yet.\"\n\n\"Let me accept my Fate, Forrest. Don't jeopardize your life for mine.\"\n\nPerhaps this was why the entire time he had driven during the worst winter conditions he had never issued a complaint. It certainly explained his nervousness when we had come to the roadblock. His goal had been to stay ahead of the demon. But I didn't think this creature was able to pursue a horse and coach so quickly, even with our delay at the bridge.\n\n\"Thomas, I'm a Hunter. No need to sacrifice your life to it. There has to be ways to kill it.\"\n\nI turned toward the demon and thrust the torch at it. It didn't move, nor did it show any fear of the fire. Its intense stare focused on Thomas and ignored me, not even regarding the torch or me as a threat.\n\n\"Fire isn't one of them, Hunter,\" a female said from the hillside above me. \"I've been tracking him for hours through the woods. Don't you dare rob me of my kill!\"\n\nI glanced in her direction. Her silhouette showed her pull back the bowstring and fire. The arrow pierced into the back of the vile demon's head and disintegrated. Its black body stiffened. Red flames surfaced on its skin through its leaking pustules and the demon crumbled into a heap of ash.\n\nShe ran down the road toward us. Her hand dusted away the thick ash until a polished stone the size of a small grape became visible. She picked it up and examined it in my torch's flame. With a slight smile, she said, \"An emerald this time.\"\n\n\"An emerald? From a demon?\" Thomas asked with keen curiosity.\n\n\"Reward for my service. The last three had been sapphires.\"\n\n\"There were more?\" Thomas asked.\n\nShe nodded.\n\nHe glanced toward me. \"He mentioned only one.\"\n\n\"Albert cannot be taken at his word,\" I replied.\n\nThomas whispered, \"I suppose not.\"\n\nI held the torch above my head to look at the young lady. The bright flame revealed more of her. She had streaked her face with mud, which had dried and become cakey and was starting to crumble. Dead branches and weeds had been tucked into her oily braids. I supposed to help conceal her as she slinked through the trees and shrubs. In her disguise it was difficult to judge her true appearance.\n\nHer odor, on the other hand, was ripe like soured sweat. I had seen fewer boys with less filth upon them after a day of labor in the muddy fields than what she had traipsed during her hunt for these demons. Of course, I had no idea how long she had been out on this particular hunt, either.\n\nAround her neck hung a strange pair of goggles. The lenses were bulged and connected with a leather strap. She tucked the gem into a small pouch on her narrow belt. Then she took a wide mouthed jar from the small pack on her shoulders. After unscrewing the lid, she filled the jar with the smoldering ash and sealed it shut.\n\nHer eyes glanced toward me. Her soft voice was more pleasant than I expected. \"Thank you, Hunter, for not robbing me of my kill. Did you really think fire would affect a demon?\"\n\n\"I had hoped.\"\n\nShe laughed in a wild high-pitched tone. \"Demons come from the pits of Hell where they find comfort in the flames. You offered no real threat to him at all.\"\n\n\"We greatly appreciate your help ... Miss\u2014\" I said, looking at her.\n\n\"Penelope,\" she replied. \"And you are, Hunter?\"\n\n\"Forrest, and this is our coachman, Thomas.\"\n\nShe did a slight elegant curtsey in spite of her grimy exterior.\n\nThomas removed the feedbag from the horse's mouth. \"We should get going, Forrest. If she's killed four of them, there's bound to be more.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"You need to take me along,\" Penelope said.\n\n\"We don't have enough room,\" I replied.\n\n\"That's gratitude for you. Leave me out in the cold after I saved your friend's life.\" She scrunched her nose.\n\n\"There's hardly room in the seat for me,\" I said.\n\nShe grinned. \"Then it will be nice and cozy, eh? I don't mind. Really. As cold as it is, it will keep us warm until we reach our next destination.\"\n\nI stood with a long awkward silence, which was broken by Thomas smacking my shoulder and laughing softly. \"The two of you will manage quite splendidly, regardless of how little room you have.\"\n\nMy brow narrowed as I watched him climb up onto his seat.\n\n\"Besides,\" Penelope said, \"more of these demons will appear. They seldom travel alone, but these seem determined in infecting whomever they've been sent after. Even though I've only encountered one at a time, I've killed four in the last half hour. They're coming after Thomas, aren't they?\"\n\nHe nodded nervously.\n\n\"Interesting,\" she said.\n\n\"What?\" I asked.\n\n\"With their dedicated determination, I would've assumed they had come after you since you're the Hunter. He's just a coachman.\"\n\n\"No, the demon wasn't my problem,\" I replied.\n\n\"He has another Hunter hunting him,\" Thomas said.\n\nShe cocked a brow and pursed her lips for a moment. \"Really? Why?\"\n\n\"It's a long explanation,\" I said.\n\n\"We have plenty of time.\" Her face beamed beneath the layer of dried mud. Bits of loose debris flaked off her skin.\n\nI looked up at Thomas. \"What exactly did you owe Albert?\"\n\n\"Now isn't the time to discuss it, Forrest. Honestly, we need to be moving onward. I will drive through the night, if necessary, to prevent us from encountering any more demons.\"\n\nPenelope nodded. \"That's wiser than stopping along the way. Plague demons seldom appear during the day.\"\n\n\"So travel at night and sleep during the day?\" I asked.\n\nShe shrugged. \"Shouldn't be any different than what a Vampire Hunter does anyway, correct?\"\n\n\"Depends upon the vampire,\" I replied. \"I'd rather stake them in their crypts during the daylight hours whenever possible.\"\n\nThomas glanced over his shoulder to the road behind us and then he narrowed his gaze at me. \"Please, Forrest, let's go.\"\n\n\"What about Madeline?\" I asked. \"Was she indebted to Albert as well?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"I don't know. You need to ask her. Now get inside, so we can travel on.\"\n\nPenelope smiled and opened the coach door. \"Should I get in first?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"Only if you want me to crush you by accident. It's probably safer if I get settled first.\"\n\nShe waited for me to squeeze inside the coach and seat myself before she climbed in. I slid over as far as I possibly could, and she fit beside me with more room than I had imagined she'd have. She placed her bow at our feet and yanked the door closed.\n\nFather snored, and Madeline opened one eye momentarily before closing it and returning to sleep, if she had awakened at all. I doubted our presence had even registered with her. At least I hoped she was still deeply asleep because I wanted to learn more about the Demon-hunter without any interruptions from Madeline or Father.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Seven\n\n\"How did you kill that demon?\" I asked.\n\n\"You worry about slaying the vampires. Let me kill the demons.\"\n\n\"What's that hanging around your neck?\"\n\n\"My spectacles? You like them?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nPenelope untied the leather strap and handed the odd glasses to me. \"Take a look.\"\n\nI placed the spectacles against my eyes and peered through the lenses. Immediately everything in the coach brightened as though we were in daylight or had several bright oil lanterns lit. The outer rim of the glasses was solid brass with thick brads fastening the goggles against the thick leather. On the right lens were crosshairs to zero in on a target. I pulled back the curtain and gazed outside. Everything was bright in the forest. I marveled and turned toward her. \"Where did you get these?\"\n\n\"I had a craftsman make them for me,\" she replied. \"Since most demons are active during the night, I needed a better way to see in the darkness. No need to give them an advantage over me.\"\n\n\"I'd love to get a pair of those. Were they expensive?\"\n\n\"I had to kill one Astaroth demon and two lesser abyssal demons to earn enough money to pay the metal crafter.\" She picked up her bow and pointed at a round lens. Brass protected the glass. \"He also made this, so I can have almost pinpoint accuracy.\"\n\n\"Do all of the demons you've killed leave behind gems?\"\n\nPenelope shook her head. \"No. An Astaroth is extremely rare to happen upon. They are seldom seen. It left me several large diamonds, which I sold to a gem crafter. The lessers each left large garnets of rare colors, so I fetched a good bit of money for those. But I have killed dozens of demons and not reaped a single gem or gold nugget. These plague demons have been consistent thus far, but I don't understand why. Of course I've never seen them travel alone or have a replacement emerge soon after I have killed one. They usually are sent in small numbers to infect an entire city.\"\n\n\"What did you kill it with?\"\n\n\"You saw the arrow, didn't you?\"\n\n\"I thought I had, but it must have dissolved when it struck the demon. The arrow wasn't there after the demon turned to ash. That's why I asked.\"\n\nShe smiled. \"The arrow was consumed by the plague, which is a protective measure for these demons. But the poisoned arrow destroyed the disease, causing the demon to incinerate. These demons don't have blood. The plague oozes through their veins, keeping them alive until they gut themselves inside a group of people in a town or city and the disease is released. You kill the plague and they die. Fire can't hurt them, but the poison I use can.\"\n\n\"So you have a poison that destroys the plague? How'd you happen upon that?\"\n\n\"A healer. But most folks would probably consider her a witch.\"\n\n\"I see. Is she in your town?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No. She lives in the forest. Deep in the forest. She doesn't like visitors.\"\n\n\"But she likes you?\" I asked.\n\nPenelope shrugged her narrow shoulders. \"After she accidentally summoned a demon during one of her rituals, she sought me out. I killed the demon for her, and we sort of entered into a bartering exchange. She has ... medicines I need, and I trade her things she needs.\"\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\n\"Witches need a vast array of ingredients for their incantations. Demon dust is obviously something easy for me to obtain. Vampire dust, on the other hand, I occasionally get whenever a Hunter is kind enough to allow me to go along on one of his kills.\"\n\nI was still staring at her through the goggles. She batted her eyelids at me with a flirty smile, which might have worked better if she didn't have the cakey mud smeared across her face and the twigs and ferns tucked in her matted hair. A bath would have helped as well.\n\n\"I'm all out of vampire dust,\" I replied.\n\nShe rolled her eyes, sighed, and looked away. \"Like you'd be carrying it on you to begin with.\"\n\nI chuckled. \"To be honest with you, our funds for our journey have almost depleted, so my father and I will probably seek to find a place where a reward is being offered to kill a vampire.\"\n\n\"Your father is a Hunter, too?\"\n\nI shook my head and whispered, \"He hunts them, but he's not one of the Chosen.\"\n\nShe winked. \"Ah, I see. I suppose he's sensitive about that?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"I know a place,\" she said, looking toward me with a broad smile. \"Where you could earn money for killing a vampire.\"\n\n\"Is it far from here?\"\n\n\"We should reach it by daylight, depending upon which route your coachman decides to take. If any other plague demons are following us, they won't likely surface after the sun rises. It would give us enough time to find the lair. You kill the vampire, I get its dust, and then you return to get the money. Afterwards, your coachman heads to the next point of your destination. Where are you traveling to anyway?\"\n\n\"Freiburg,\" I replied.\n\nHer brow rose. \"That far away?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"The child Madeline's holding. We're taking him there.\"\n\n\"To the Archdiocese?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nHer eyes widened with excitement. \"Would you mind if I traveled there with you?\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"I've heard about the beauty of the cathedral and the town. It's always been a place I've wanted to venture to. Since I do most of my traveling on foot, it's unlikely I'd ever get to go. So do you mind letting me ride along?\"\n\n\"If you're not too crowded?\"\n\nAgain her broad smile widened. It was cute in spite of her ... muddy cheeks. \"Not at all. I have plenty of room right here beside you. You put off enough body heat to dispel the cold. Do you think the others will mind? My coming along?\"\n\nThere was something about her that intrigued me. Maybe it was the softness of her voice or the look in her eyes when she stared at me, but I rather liked the thought of traveling with someone who was closer to my age. Besides, she had not only saved Thomas from the demon, she had ensured that I hadn't been infected by it. I didn't have much knowledge about demons. By having her with us, I could learn a lot from her.\n\nHer eyes showed her eagerness for my answer. I smiled. \"I don't think there will be any objections.\"\n\n\"Thanks.\" Penelope scrunched her nose and scooted against the doorframe. She tucked her arms tightly to her sides. \"I hate that we're traveling through the night instead of stopping at an inn though.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nAs she closed her eyes, a grim smile formed on her face. \"I'm embarrassed to say that I have developed quite a foul odor from tracking and killing those demons. I apologize. I didn't ... realize it until after getting inside these tight quarters beside you.\"\n\n\"I probably don't smell any better after my earlier run-ins.\" I thought about my plummet down the mossy hill and landing in all the half-frozen mud and debris, not to mention how much I had sweated from my nervous near-death encounter with Philip.\n\n\"I'm afraid it's much more different.\"\n\n\"Why is that?\"\n\n\"You're a man, and well, men tend to sweat a lot, especially after a hard day's work. There's seldom a man in my village that you cannot smell far before you see him. Even deer musk isn't that bad.\" She grinned. \"But a lady needs better cleanliness.\"\n\nLady? I almost scoffed, but watching her through the goggles, I read the sincerity on her face. The meekness in her voice caused me to view her in a different light. She was genuinely embarrassed. Based upon our first meeting and seeing her now, I couldn't ever imagine her in a frilly dress. It contradicted her rugged appearance. She had more dirt encrusted around her fingers and beneath her short fingernails than I did, and she still regarded herself as a lady, in spite of everything else. But like me, she took her calling seriously, and sometimes, that demanded us to step outside our normal boundaries.\n\nA tear trickled from her eye and the cakey mud quickly claimed it.\n\nI felt sadness for her. \"You're amongst friends, so no need to fret.\"\n\nShe frowned and pointed toward my father and Madeline. \"They're asleep. What would they fret over right now anyway?\"\n\nI shrugged with a teasing smile. \"The less they'll complain.\"\n\nShe thrust a playful elbow into my ribs with a soft giggle so lovely I could have listened to her laugh for hours. I found myself attracted to her and liked her being close to me.\n\nI turned slightly in the seat to see her without constantly straining my neck. \"Whenever we reach this town you mentioned where the vampire is, we'll find an inn or a bathhouse.\"\n\nPenelope didn't reply, so I decided to change the subject.\n\n\"How long have you been a Demon-hunter?\"\n\n\"Eight years.\"\n\nShe had been killing demons for almost as long as I had been alive, and she didn't have any visible scars. \"How old were you when you killed your first one?\"\n\n\"Twelve, I think. It's hard to remember. How about you? How old were you when you killed your first vampire?\"\n\nI froze. I didn't wish to reveal my actual age to her. For some reason, I thought she'd think less of me or treat me like a child. I frowned, pretending to be deep in thought. \"Like you said, it is hard to remember, isn't it?\"\n\nHer thick dirty eyebrows rose. She remained skeptical for a few moments. \"It can be.\"\n\n\"What prompted you to hunt demons? Few men your age would dare hunt down demons.\"\n\nPenelope looked at me with a sense of pride glowing on her face. \"Like Vampire Hunters, we're Chosen, too.\"\n\n\"I didn't realize that.\"\n\nShe smiled. \"There are those who hunt demons without being Chosen, but they usually end up possessed or sacrificed. While I'm not exactly immune from being possessed, it's a lot harder for a demon to gain the control over me to enter my mind or body.\"\n\n\"I'm resistant to a vampire's compulsion, and even a master's. Thus far, anyway.\"\n\n\"I guess such abilities were deemed upon us so we can slay the demons and vampires. Otherwise, we'd become victims.\"\n\n\"How is it that you know so much about Vampire Hunters?\"\n\nPenelope folded her hands together and rested them on her lap. \"My father was one of the Chosen.\"\n\n\"Was?\"\n\nBiting her lower lip, she turned toward the window, but she didn't attempt to move the curtain to peer outside. \"I've not seen him in years, so ... I suppose he might still be alive.\"\n\n\"If it eases your mind any, the Hunters I know travel constantly, sometimes moving across the oceans and through many countries. The older ones become drifters. My guess is they do so to draw less attention to themselves or to protect their loved ones. Maybe he's traveling elsewhere?\"\n\n\"Maybe. How long have you been a Hunter?\"\n\n\"Less than a year.\"\n\nShe offered a bewildered stare. \"How many kills?\"\n\n\"Nearly a couple of dozen.\"\n\n\"Impressive. Where did you and the others depart in this coach?\"\n\n\"London.\"\n\nShe looked stunned. \"So tell me why you're taking the baby to Freiburg when there are other cathedrals along the way?\"\n\nThat was a good question since I had discovered Albert had betrayed us. \"I don't rightly know.\"\n\n\"And why take the child to a cathedral and not an orphanage?\"\n\n\"The child's welfare could become greatly jeopardized in an orphanage.\"\n\nPenelope looked at me and realized I was still looking at her through the spectacles. \"You like those, huh?\"\n\nI nodded. \"I like to see who I'm talking to.\"\n\n\"You're at the advantage then.\"\n\nI lowered them. \"Here, I'll give them\u2014\"\n\n\"No. I'll let you keep using them while we ride, but should we be forced to exit the coach due to a demon attack, I'll need them back.\" She smiled. \"You can hold onto them but only if you answer a question for me. Deal?\"\n\n\"Depends upon what information you're fishing for.\"\n\n\"Fair enough. I'd rather you tell me than for me to draw my own conclusions.\"\n\n\"That isn't a question,\" I said with a teasing smile.\n\nPenelope stared at Varak, took a deep breath, and sighed. \"This child must be of the utmost importance for a Hunter to escort ... him? It's a boy?\"\n\n\"Yes, and now I've answered your question.\"\n\nShe elbowed me slightly and shook her head. \"That was a question, Forrest, but not the question.\"\n\nI tsk'ed with my tongue. \"You need to be more specific.\"\n\n\"The boy is very important for you\u2014a Hunter\u2014to be escorting him across several countries to get him to the Archdiocese. Why is he this important and why are you protecting him?\"\n\n\"That's two questions. You said one.\"\n\n\"It was asked as a single question.\" Penelope gave a me a shrewd narrowing of the eyes and scrunched her nose.\n\nI shook my head. \"It had two whys. Which question do you wish to have answered?\"\n\nThe expression on her face indicated that she knew I was teasing because I half expected her to hit me. Instead of being agitated, she grinned. \"Fine. I'll rephrase the question. Why is he so important that you need to protect him? Anyone could deliver him to the Archdiocese.\"\n\nI handed her the spectacles.\n\n\"You're not going to answer?\" she asked.\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"It's safer you don't know.\"\n\nHer brow furrowed. \"Phht. Really? I kill demons, Forrest, sometimes on a daily basis. You realize that, so whatever reasons you have for making this journey pales in comparison to what you think you're protecting me from. Unless you're hiding something else from me?\"\n\nI turned slightly on the seat.\n\nShe placed her hand onto the back of mine. \"Your coachman said that another Hunter is hunting you. Is that really true?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Has he attacked you?\"\n\n\"Yes. His intent was to kill me.\"\n\nPenelope rubbed the back of my hand. \"Because of this baby?\"\n\nI stared through the darkness to where the baby was cradled in Madeline's arm. Even though I couldn't see them without the aid of the spectacles, I sensed his presence. He wasn't quite a year old yet, and Madeline continued nursing him, but his aura was growing stronger. I wondered if Penelope could detect his power yet or not, or if Demon-hunters were even capable of sensing what Vampire Hunters could?\n\nVarak definitely could influence others to do his bidding. He couldn't speak yet, but he commanded his persuasion in subtle unexplained ways. His eyes were captivating, and Madeline had been endeared to him in the same manner as Esmeralda and the former wet-nurse had been. They were willing to fight and sacrifice their lives in order to save his. The same had occurred when Ruby had held the baby for less than an hour. Her knocking the other Hunter unconscious wasn't her idea. Varak had somehow indicated to her the threat this Hunter presented to the child. Ruby was small and frail compared to the Hunter, and obeying his request for the reward would have outweighed her decision to attack the man. Had he not lost consciousness, he could have killed her in an instant.\n\nVarak was already powerful and those unknowingly yielding themselves to him would never suspect he was inside their minds controlling their thoughts. It would be ludicrous for anyone to believe, except for me or any other Hunter. Even my father forgot what Varak truly was at times.\n\nThe things babies needed the most were food, shelter, and love. Of the three, love was the most important. Love shaped minds early, allowing a child to feel safe and sheltered. Babies couldn't ask to be loved. That came from the parents, but Varak was different. His real parents were dead. His life had already been threatened many times, and to survive long enough for him to reach adulthood, he needed dedicated, undying devotion. He already understood that his life was endangered. Such knowledge could only come from what he truly was\u2014a half-blood.\n\nPenelope had separated her spectacles into two separate lenses and placed one on my lap. Then she enveloped her tiny hand around the side of mine. I closed my hand gently around hers. \"Did you hear my question, Forrest?\"\n\nI jerked around toward her. \"I'm sorry. My mind was drifting.\"\n\n\"I thought maybe you were thinking about something else. It's late. You can stare through the goggle I handed you, if you wish to look at me while we talk.\" She placed hers to her eye and faced me. \"I can see you now, too.\"\n\n\"You didn't break them, did you?\"\n\n\"No. They fasten back together rather easily.\"\n\nI placed the one to my eye. \"What did you ask?\"\n\n\"The hunter is after you about this baby. Why?\"\n\n\"Penelope,\" I said softly.\n\n\"Forrest, since I'm traveling with you, I need to know why he's pursuing you over this child. I cannot think of any logical reason for him doing that. So let me know if me fighting alongside you against this Hunter is worth even sacrificing my life, okay? That's fair enough, isn't it?\"\n\nI sighed and whispered close to her ear. \"It is. And if you decide it's not worth it, we let you off at the next town.\"\n\nShe squeezed my hand and nuzzled closer so we spoke only in whispers. \"Okay.\"\n\n\"Varak is a half-blood. He's half vampire and half human, considered by Hunters to be an abomination to the human population.\"\n\n\"A half-blood?\" Her eyebrow above the goggle rose. \"Are you certain? That's so rare most people regard it as only a legend.\"\n\n\"I wish that were the case, but it isn't,\" I replied.\n\n\"How are you certain?\"\n\n\"We know Varak's origin. He's already capable of influencing those who are taking care of his needs.\"\n\n\"According to the legend, since you're a Hunter, you're supposed to ... kill him but you don't intend to?\"\n\n\"That sums it up,\" I replied. \"So do you want us to let you off at the next town or do you still wish to go to Freiburg with us?\"\n\n\"To be honest, I couldn't carry out those orders, either. I'm surprise any Hunter could. But, you know, I cannot recall in history where a half-blood has ever reigned, can you?\"\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"Where is it written that all half-bloods are evil?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Me, either. Does the archbishop know you're coming?\" she asked.\n\n\"My guess is no. But we were given strict instructions not to tell him what Varak is. Madeline and the coachman don't know. Just my father and myself, and now you.\"\n\nHer mouth came closer to my ear. Her whispered breath was hot when she spoke. Chill bumps prickled down my neck and back. I closed my eyes. My stomach felt odd because of her closeness. \"I wish to continue to Freiburg with you, Forrest. You might be intimidating to a lot of people, but you seem to have a gentle heart. I like talking to you and don't mind sharing this seat with you at all. I hope you feel the same, too.\"\n\nBefore I replied, she softly pressed her lips to my cheek. I swallowed hard.\n\n\"It's late,\" she said. \"If you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep.\"\n\n\"Perfectly fine by me. I'm tired, too.\"\n\nWith the gentle rocking of the coach, it didn't take long for me to fall asleep. Dreams this night were more pleasant than any I had had in months.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Eight\n\nA sliver of light shone through the curtain where my shoulder had pushed it aside while I slept. The light caught my closed eyes perfectly, prompting me to awaken. I shifted slightly and discovered Penelope had snuggled against me during the night. Her face was nuzzled against my chest and her arm wrapped around my waist. Her hand clung to my side like she was hugging me, and my right hand rested on her back.\n\nShe breathed softly. The warmth of her embrace brought strange excitement to my chest and stomach that I didn't understand. I found comfort from her closeness and hoped she didn't awaken for hours. I didn't want her to stop holding me. I felt less alone and isolated with her pressed against me.\n\nI glanced up and noticed Father staring intently at me. His eyes questioned without him uttering a single word. A slight grin crossed his lips.\n\n\"Where did she come from?\" he asked softly.\n\nI explained what had occurred while he was asleep.\n\n\"Plague demons?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nHis brow furrowed. \"This journey gets more livelier the farther we go.\"\n\n\"It's been eventful,\" I replied.\n\n\"And she's traveling with us?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"To Freiburg?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"She hunts demons?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nVarak stirred in Madeline's arms, causing her to awaken. She pulled a thin blanket to cover him while she let him nurse.\n\nFather stared at Penelope for a few moments before his eyes shifted to look into mine again. \"You reckon she ever bathes?\"\n\nEven though she was asleep I found myself offended by his question. My jaw tightened and I spoke in a low even tone. \"She was trying to keep herself concealed while tracking demons through the forests. I imagine she doesn't always look like this, but you're free to ask her when she awakens.\"\n\n\"Son, I didn't mean that like it sounded.\"\n\nI picked bits of dried fern sprigs and twigs from her tight braids with my left hand, trying not to disturb her sleep. She took a deep breath, raised her head slightly, and rubbed her cheek against my chest. Dried mud crumbled. Small pieces of dirt clods slid down my shirt and formed a tiny pile at the top of my belt.\n\nFather said, \"I just thought that demons could sense a human's presence, even in disguise.\"\n\n\"Something else you need to ask her. I don't know enough about demons to tell you.\"\n\n\"Perhaps she can train you.\"\n\n\"I'm willing to learn.\"\n\nI peered down at her. Her brow furrowed, and she blinked several times before looking up into my eyes. I held my breath. Her hazel eyes were bright, almost sparkling and more beautiful than a priceless gemstone.\n\n\"You're stomach's growling,\" she said, easing up.\n\nMy hand eased off her back.\n\n\"He's always hungry,\" Father said.\n\nShe jolted up and glanced in his direction. I quickly introduced her to Madeline and Father.\n\nAfter Penelope slid away from me, I suddenly felt cold without the warmth of her body next to mine. She lifted the curtain slightly and peered out. \"We've reached the outskirts of a city with a large cathedral.\"\n\nThomas slowed the coach. I leaned beside her and peered out. Even with the coachman driving through the entire night, we were still days away\u2014or weeks dependent upon the weather and terrain\u2014from arriving at Freiburg. As magnificent as this cathedral was, this wasn't the Archdiocese.\n\nHe stopped the coach along a side street at a small inn. Once he tied the horse, Penelope opened the door and hurried out. I followed, but slightly slower since I had to maneuver my large frame through the narrow door. I turned and helped Father and Madeline climb down. She clutched Varak to her chest.\n\nThe overcast sky hinted of cold rain or snow and added a gloomy tint to this rundown set of buildings on the edge of the city.\n\n\"Where are we?\" I asked.\n\nThomas rubbed his bloodshot eyes and grinned. \"Strasbourg, France. We're less than a week from reaching Freiburg. If I can get a few quick hours of sleep while everyone eats, I'll push onward at noon.\"\n\nI glanced toward Father. \"Our funds are nearly depleted. Penelope says that she knows where we might obtain a decent reward to slay a vampire.\"\n\nFather eyed her nervously.\n\nShe grinned, but with all the dirt and debris covering her, it wasn't exactly a reassuring smile.\n\n\"Is this true?\" Father asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" she replied. She pointed toward a building across the street. \"We need to talk to a man in that shop. The vampire isn't in this city. He's farther down the route, perhaps twenty miles from Freiburg.\"\n\n\"How do you know this?\" I asked. \"You said that you've never been close to Freiburg.\"\n\n\"I haven't. I know because ... my father had made it his objective to slay that vampire. He had learned about the reward in that shop. He sent me a post after he visited here and set off to slay the vampire. That was the last I've ever seen or heard from him.\"\n\nFather frowned and glanced at me. \"Her father is a Vampire Hunter? One of the Chosen?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"He is.\"\n\n\"So what do we do if we visit the man offering the reward and the vampire's already been slain?\"\n\n\"If that's true, then there's hope my father's still alive, provided he's the one who returned to claim the bounty. But if the vampire still preys upon the living it means he failed and is dead.\" Her desperate eyes flicked toward me. \"I need to know, Forrest. I wasn't trying to be selfish or deceitful by traveling with you. Don't you understand?\"\n\n\"Of course. If it were my father's life, I'd need to know, too.\"\n\n\"And should the vampire already be slain, I'll cover the cost of the trip,\" she said.\n\nFather shook his head. \"No, that's not necessary.\"\n\n\"I insist.\"\n\nPenelope glanced at her appearance in a large storefront window and looked surprised by her reflection. She untied her braids and shook her head back and forth, sending a small shower of dust, dirt, and debris into the cold breeze. \"I can't go into that shop or anywhere like this.\"\n\nThomas climbed into the coach, pulled the door shut behind him, and scrunched along one of the seats to sleep.\n\n\"I think Father and I can get enough scraped together so you can get cleaned up.\"\n\nShe shook her head and grinned. \"No need, Forrest. I have gems I can sell or trade. I have money tucked away in my belt, too.\"\n\n\"Breakfast?\" I asked Father.\n\nHe nodded.\n\nPenelope patted Madeline's arm and looked at Varak for a moment. \"Would you like to bathe with the baby, too? I will pay.\"\n\nA kind smile broadened on Madeline's face. She looked relieved and her eyes moistened, nearing tears. \"Thank you, young lady. That's generous of you.\"\n\nIt had been several days since we had the luxury of staying in an inn, partly due to the unpredictable weather and also due to our depleting funds.\n\nI looked at Penelope and pointed. \"When you two are finished, we'll be in that bakery at the corner. Come eat with us.\"\n\nPenelope gave me a slight, blushful smile. She nodded and turned quickly to the inn door.\n\nAfter Madeline followed Penelope into the inn, Father and I walked to the small bakery. The aroma of fresh bread and pastries wafted down the narrow street. We ordered several types of pastries, coffee, cheese, and fresh goat milk. Surprisingly the stacks of food weren't as expensive as I expected.\n\n\"Will Thomas be safe left alone?\" Father asked.\n\n\"According to Penelope, most demons won't materialize in the daylight, but we won't stop here too long.\"\n\nFather stared at the stacks of pastries and cheese at the center of our table. \"I don't know. Your appetite has increased a lot since London, and you're not a fast eater.\"\n\nI chuckled. \"I like to enjoy the food, well most of it. There have been some rough meals along the way.\"\n\nHe winced and his expression was comical. \"Some rough ale, too, son. I really think the one farmer gave us horse piss.\"\n\n\"None of that, today,\" I said, sipping the hot coffee. \"If we have enough money, perhaps we should see about baths, too?\"\n\nFather shrugged. \"Get one if you must. Wanting to impress her?\"\n\n\"Penelope?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" He took a huge bite of an apple tart.\n\nI blushed. \"I don't like being dirty all the time.\"\n\n\"It doesn't matter to the undead. They have foul odors of their own.\"\n\n\"I know, but I don't want to blend in with them.\"\n\nHe grinned and shook his head.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"She's struck you pretty hard already, eh?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't say that\u2014\"\n\nFather downed a glass of milk. \"Neither of you can hide your interest for one another. Your eyes give it away, and so do hers.\"\n\n\"You think she's interested in me?\"\n\nFather rested his elbows on the table, grabbed another hunk of cheese, and smiled with pride. \"Of course she is. What girl wouldn't be interested in you? You're more handsome than I, tall and muscular like a Roman statue, and have a soft demeanor in spite of your size. She likes you ... a lot.\"\n\n\"But her age\u2014\"\n\nFather sighed. \"Let's settle something in your mind right now while it's just you and I alone. Okay?\"\n\nI shrugged.\n\n\"Forget about the calendar years for your age from this day forward. Since you're one of the Chosen, clearly a man in size, and have been gifted with knowledge from each vampire you have slain, you're not a boy anymore. Sure, you will make the occasional mistakes that a child will make, but overall, you're not a lad. Your body and mind have matured into manhood, skipping the awkward stages. It was beyond your control, but face it, son, you're every bit a man. I've seen men my age act younger and more irresponsible than you. But one thing I know for certain, you don't think like a child. You haven't for quite some time.\"\n\nHearing those words come from my father meant the world to me. My chest swelled with pride. My eyes heated with tears, but I resisted their flow. I smiled. \"I appreciate that, Father.\"\n\n\"I cannot deny the truth, so why should you?\"\n\nI stared at the food on my plate.\n\n\"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"What you said is true, about me growing older so quickly, but ... it gets all awkward when I'm close to her. My stomach gets nervous. My hands and underarms sweat. I get these odd feelings inside and don't know what to say or do. I think she'll laugh at me.\"\n\nFather grinned. \"Every man and woman goes through those emotions and that awkwardness. It's part of maturation. But this much I've learned, and take it to heart. Tell her how you feel, even if it seems awkward, even if you're uncertain of how she feels. The awkwardness is magnified in your mind more so than what she actually sees. A woman seeks sincerity. But the longer you resist telling her, the less she'll believe you're interested in her, and she'll turn her attention elsewhere.\"\n\n\"But what if she doesn't feel the same way?\"\n\n\"At least you'd know, right? But the two of you were quite cozy this morning.\"\n\nI chuckled nervously. My face heated, and I imagined it was bright red. \"We weren't that way when we fell asleep. I awoke with her burrowed against my chest. Maybe she got cold?\"\n\nFather laughed heartily, causing the others seated around us to look in our direction. Nearly a minute passed before his laughter ceased. His eyes dripped tears, and he wiped them away. \"Sorry. I'm not laughing at you. But trust me on this, son. If she didn't feel safe around you and didn't have any interest in you, I don't care how cold it was, she'd have still placed as much distance between the two of you as possible. Not even a thread of her clothing would have touched yours.\"\n\nI sipped my coffee but refused to make eye contact, thinking about Penelope.\n\n\"You still don't believe me, do you?\"\n\nI didn't know what to say, but I still held my doubts.\n\n\"You have doubts,\" he said, as if reading my thoughts.\n\n\"How do you know?\"\n\n\"I've been there. Every man goes through these feelings. But watch her eyes, her smile, and how she acts when she's near you. The best advice I can give you, is for you to take that chance to tell her how you feel. Don't think about rejection. If that happens, the next time you talk to a woman you're interested in, telling her how you feel will become easier.\"\n\nI stared at my father in silence. Since Jacques had headed to America, Father had stepped back into his rightful place as the man who could offer me the sound advice that I needed. Not only that, he hadn't taken a drink of any ale or spirits since the last time he had gotten drunk. I'm not certain what Jacques had said when he had scolded Father, but I didn't think that was the reason behind his devoted sobriety. I believe he did it because it bettered him and strengthened our relationship. Maybe he also thought about how Momma would feel if she saw him lost in his stupors. Whatever had changed him inside, I was just thankful it had occurred.\n\nFather said, \"You always point toward Fate. She's a Demon-hunter, the daughter of a Vampire Hunter. Perhaps Fate has purposely crossed your paths. Have you considered that yet?\"\n\nI frowned at the suggestion, but until that moment, I hadn't thought about such a possibility.\n\nBefore I replied, he nodded toward the door. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Penelope through the glass. My heart raced. A lump formed in my throat, and for nearly half a minute I had stopped breathing. I glanced toward Father and his face was frozen by a stunned expression. Neither of us recognized this to be the same Demon-hunter that we had parted with nearly an hour earlier.\n\nFather cleared his throat, nearly choking on whatever he had been chewing. \"Just remember what I told you.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Nine\n\nPenelope walked through the door, saw me, and blushed with a nervous smile. While she and I had talked for a couple of hours during the night, I found myself at a loss for words like I was staring at someone I'd never met.\n\nHer curly brown hair, still partially damp, had been combed and spilled across her shoulders. She wasn't wearing a dress, nor did I think she would, being as we were about to find out if the bounty on the vampire remained valid. No traces of mud were on her face or in her hair.\n\nShe wore a new pair of dark leather pants, a brown undershirt, and a dark leather vest. Where she had found a place to buy these clothes on such short notice was beyond me. She walked toward our table and offered a flattered grin, even though I hadn't said a single word. Perhaps my speechless expression and gaping mouth impressed her with how overwhelmed I was by her beauty. I didn't know what to say or how to act. I was stunned.\n\nFather's chair scooted back, and he rose to his feet. His hand smacked the back of my elbow. I glanced to him to see his frown and head nod for me to rise and pull out a chair for her. I did so quickly, nearly knocking my own chair over while halfway tripping over my feet to grab the back of the chair beside mine. She noticed my immense nervousness and bit her lower lip while watching my clumsy display, but she seemed adulated.\n\nI pulled her chair back, allowing her to lower onto her seat while moving the chair closer to the table. Her hair and skin smelled of sweet roses.\n\n\"Thank you, Forrest,\" she said softly.\n\nI barely heard her words, simply taking in her radiance, and without realizing it, I said aloud, \"You're so beautiful.\"\n\nThe silence afterwards hung for what seemed an eternity. Her cheeks reddened, even though she had freshly powdered them before her arrival. Her wide smile grew even wider, and she tilted her head slightly so she could see me, but her nervous glances toward my awestruck gaze were brief, volleying back and forth from my eyes to the table and back again.\n\nI wanted to speak but my dry throat had constricted. My chest hurt and I wondered if my breathing would ever return to a normal rate. I stood there unable to take my eyes off her.\n\nFather lowered himself back into his chair. He motioned with a nod and his eyes for me to return to my chair instead of standing beside her like a gawking fool. Believe me, it was implied, without him ever saying a word. His gazes, frowns, and expressions held their own vocabulary that I had learned since birth. Momma had had fewer but each was easily interpreted.\n\nMy face and neck felt like they were on fire; no doubt redder than the ripest autumn apple. I kept clearing my throat, trying to get the muscles to relax.\n\nFather mercifully broke the silence. \"Where is Madeline?\"\n\nPenelope took a quick breath, still smiling, and said, \"I rented a room for half a day. She didn't want to take Varak out into the cold after she had bathed him. She asked that we bring her some food back.\"\n\nFather rose and stacked several items onto a napkin. He glanced toward me while choosing a few more pastries, probably for Thomas. My eyes pleaded for him not to leave, but his giddy smile implied that he took slight pleasure in my discomfort. \"You two take your time and enjoy breakfast. After you eat and talk to the man offering the bounty, let me know what our plans for the rest of the day are. No sense in me slowing you down.\"\n\nHe hobbled toward the door and opened it.\n\nPenelope turned slightly in her chair. \"The room is\u2014\"\n\nFather paused at the door. \"I'll ask at the desk. No hurries.\"\n\nThe door closed.\n\nA thousand thoughts rushed through my mind, but none aided me in what I should say or do. How was I supposed to act? I rubbed my sweaty hands on my pants, trying to find the words. Nothing coherent surfaced.\n\nShe and I exchanged several nervous glances at one another. The quiet expounded. I wondered what had changed since we had parted earlier? Inside the coach we had talked about a lot of things but now, complete silence. I was confused. We were both the same people, but her beauty captivated me. I suppose I feared I'd do something foolish to alter her feelings toward me. I was afraid of making stupid childish mistakes.\n\nFather had said that she liked me. I liked her. Both of us could do nothing except exchange silent stares. Her eyes still looked at me with interest like she had in the coach, and her repeated smiles awaited me to start conversation.\n\nI took a deep breath and shook my head. I was a Vampire Hunter and had killed zombies, ghouls, and vampires, and yet, I couldn't express my thoughts to the most beautiful young lady I'd ever met? I had even come close to death a couple of times, and here I sat more frightened than ever. I chastised myself for being a coward.\n\nTimidly she sat, looking at the food and her teacup, but she hadn't reached for a single thing.\n\n\"Here,\" I finally said, grabbing one of the apple tarts and setting it on her plate. \"Those are really good.\"\n\nHer eyes met mine, and she smiled. \"Thank you.\"\n\nI lifted the tea decanter and filled her cup with steaming hot tea.\n\nPenelope eyed the apple tart on her plate. Without looking at me, she said, \"Did you really mean what you said earlier as you were seating me?\"\n\nMy stomach tensed. I swallowed hard. Yes, I had meant the words, but I hadn't meant to blurt them out. Nothing had escaped my lips any truer than what I had told her. I wiped my hands again. Sweat beaded on my brow.\n\nI glanced at her. Her hopeful eyes stared at me, and her folded hands shook slightly, making me realize that she was just as nervous inside as I was, and asking the question had been difficult for her to even ask.\n\nFather's words came to mind. Tell her how you feel, even if it seems awkward, even if you're uncertain of how she feels.\n\n\"The words rushed out without me realizing it,\" I said, almost apologetically.\n\nPenelope broke our gaze and stared at the table.\n\n\"But,\" I said, \"if I could clarify something since I just blurted that out earlier? You are the most beautiful lady I've ever seen. That's why I cannot take my eyes off of you.\"\n\nI couldn't believe I had gotten the words out without stuttering or mumbling or dying. Perspiration welled beneath my arms, down my back, and down my chest. A lump rose in my throat. My heartbeat pulsed in my ears. The rest of the dining room seemed invisible. I even felt dizzy. When folks joked that love hurt, I now understood partially why. I was close to passing out for telling a woman how pretty she was. I was afraid to know how much worse it got from there.\n\nShe studied my face for several moments. A smile curled her lips. \"No one's ever said those words to me before.\"\n\n\"Ever?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"Other than my mother and father? No. But it's expected from them.\"\n\nI sighed. \"But it's true. You are beautiful.\"\n\nPenelope bit into the tart, chewed, and nodded her approval. \"I'm surprised I didn't frightened you off when we first met, but at least now I don't reek of that awful sweat and all the mud is gone, too.\"\n\nI smiled. \"I never complained, did I?\"\n\nShe leaned closer to me and stared into my eyes with a deepness no one had ever shown me. I didn't want to look away, and oddly I didn't feel uncomfortable. I imagined that my eyes reflected the same emotions as hers. Her gaze was the same as Jacques' had been for Matilda and her for him. They had fallen in love, and I suspected I had already fallen for Penelope. I stared at her narrow lips longer than I should have. There was the briefest of moments when I almost leaned forward to kiss her. But instead I realized where we were, in a public place where such was frowned upon, so I fought the urge and resisted. I smiled and placed my hand atop hers and squeezed. Our fingers entwined a few seconds later.\n\nI sipped more coffee while she ate, and we kept holding hands. My appetite had decided to vanish, which was a rarity considering how hungry I had been when Father and I had entered the bakery. My former nervousness when she had entered had also waned, but my uncertainty and doubts arose.\n\nI thought about Rose and how I had profusely argued with myself to not have strong feelings toward her, and why we could never proceed beyond simple friendship. Of course the argument had been all mine and my justification for not ever falling in love. Nothing had ever been verbally exchanged between Rose and I because I had made certain the conversation never occurred. The situation was part of the reason why I had left Romania in the first place. Being a Hunter, I knew my biggest weakness was the ones closest to my heart. The same had been true for my father, and I was convinced it held true for me as well.\n\nVampires were heartless masters of torturing the mind over the physical body. They could kill an adversary easily, but driving a man to absolute insanity before killing him was an even greater reward. They thrived on such authority. Father had nearly been destroyed after Momma had been murdered. He still suffered from losing her. I had personally witnessed the torment ripping him apart, which had made abandoning Rose easier at the time.\n\nAnd yet, my feelings for Penelope were far stronger than any stirrings I had ever held for Rose. What my father had expressed was most likely correct. Due to the intellect I was gaining from the minds of vampires I had slain, my mind had matured. I was no longer a child. I viewed the possibility of love slightly different than I had only a few months prior. Without the intellect adhering to my rationality, I doubted I'd even talk to Penelope, much less be holding her hand.\n\nFather had mentioned Fate being what brought Penelope and I together. Could that be true? Possibly. And if so, since she hunted demons and I hunted vampires, we made a nearly invincible team.\n\nOther than exchanging smiles and glances, we finished our breakfast and I paid the tab. She grabbed her coat off the rack near the door and slipped it on. I had been so caught up in her appearance, I didn't remember her taking it off. Outside the door we turned our attention to the shop across the square.\n\nDark clouds loomed overhead. Beads of sleet bounced off my hat, the street, and the awnings. The cold morning breeze whistled as the buildings sliced its strength.\n\nShe squeezed my hand and smiled up at me.\n\n\"You ready?\" I asked.\n\nPenelope offered a slight nod and pulled a hood over her head. Together we walked through the nearly silent square to the shop.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Ten\n\nI reached to open the shop door, and she pulled my hand, shaking her head.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" I asked.\n\nSadness came to her eyes. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and released it. When she opened her eyes, tears shimmered. \"I thought I could do this ... Forrest, what if my father failed? What if he's dead?\"\n\n\"Then we kill this vampire,\" I replied with boldness and slight anger in my voice. I took her hand into both of mine.\n\nPenelope read the determination in my eyes and nodded. When it came to slaying a vampire, I had been successful each time thus far, but if this vampire had killed her father, I swore that I'd find and slay it. I would end its existence for the pain it had caused her.\n\nI opened the shop door and allowed her to enter first. The shop smelled of various incenses. Smoke drifted in tiny spirals from brass canisters. Stacks of silk cloth in various colors were piled on one table. Another table was covered with dried ginseng roots, turnips, potatoes, and truffles. Dried flowers and herbs hung from the rafters. Fishing nets and supplies hung on one wall. Hats for men and women were on another table. The shop contained a hodgepodge of items without focusing upon any specific wares.\n\nAn elderly stooped man and I assumed his aged wife stood behind the counter. No other customers were in the shop, but the day was still early. From the look of the nearly abandoned, rundown section of town, business probably stayed slow.\n\n\"Excuse me,\" Penelope said. \"But I was wondering if the bounty for the vampire in the Black Forest is still unclaimed?\"\n\nThe elderly man adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and the wrinkles around his eyes deepened as he peered at her. \"Lorcan? Is that the vampire you're speaking of?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\nHe made an odd smile, showing his yellowed teeth. \"Yes! It is, actually. Several Hunters have sought directions and information to the Black Forest, but none have ever returned to claim the bounty.\"\n\nShe stiffened. Her voice broke when she spoke. \"I see.\"\n\nThe man stared at her for a few moments. He pressed his glasses firmer against his nose, squinting. \"You look familiar, young lady. Have you been in our shop before?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No.\"\n\nHe turned toward his wife. \"She looks familiar, doesn't she Abigail?\"\n\nAbigail nervously looked up from her needlework, glancing a brief moment in our direction. She nodded and looked down at her needle. Her voice was rough and scratchy when she spoke. \"Yes, Karl. She does.\"\n\nKarl rubbed his chin and shook his head. \"My old mind can't keep my memories straight. I could swear you've been here before.\"\n\n\"No, but my father was here a few ... years ago.\"\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"Yes. Wilbur Hastens.\"\n\n\"One second,\" Karl said in a shaky voice. His aged fingers shook as he thumbed through some papers in a drawer. He licked his thumb and pulled up one document and held it close to his face to read it. After he lowered it, he nodded. \"He sought the reward for the same vampire you seek.\"\n\nPenelope glanced back at me with tears in her eyes. I stepped beside her and wrapped my arm across her shoulder. She turned and buried her face against my chest. Her hands clenched my shirt and formed tight fists around the material.\n\n\"I'm so sorry,\" he said. He studied her for a few moments, as if he was trying to figure out why she was crying. After failing to make the connection, he glanced toward me with what sounded like a complete repeat of his pitch to entice people to collect the bounty. \"A lot of Hunters have sought to kill this vampire but not one has ever returned to collect the bounty. But, the good news is that the bounty has more than doubled.\"\n\n\"Good news?\" I asked with a firm frown.\n\nKarl looked at Penelope still confused, and then to my angered gaze. \"Forgive me. I ... I shouldn't have worded it like that. But, you're a Hunter, too, aren't you?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"There's another bounty for a vampire in a cemetery nearby, if you're interested in a quicker reward? Granted, the reward to slay Adnet is about a forth of what Lorcan's is, but it's than a half hour's walk on foot. Isn't that correct, Abigail?\"\n\nShe nodded but didn't look in our direction. She stuck the long needle into the thick cloth. \"Less than a half hour. Not far.\"\n\nMy jaw tightened. Anger swelled inside of me, not toward the old man, but for Penelope's loss and her pain. She sobbed against my chest. \"Give me the information for both of them.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" the old man replied with a shrewd grin. \"Give me a few minutes to write out the directions for both Lorcan and Adnet. And in the adjoining room, I have wares a Hunter like yourself might be interested in.\"\n\nI held her close, rubbed her shoulders, and rested my chin atop her head. \"Just because your father never returned for the bounty doesn't mean he's dead. Perhaps he was sidetracked or changed his mind.\"\n\n\"If he changed his mind, he'd have returned home before now.\"\n\n\"Maybe, but lots of things happen when one travels abroad. Cling to the hope that he's still alive for now. Until we have proof otherwise, no need to abandon the likelihood of him being amongst the living.\"\n\nShe squeezed me tightly and then released me. She patted my muscled stomach with her hand and formed a tight smile as she looked up at me.\n\n\"Care to see what wares he has?\" I asked.\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\nWe walked into the adjoining room to find three small tables layered with various weapons used to slay vampires. There were stakes made from different types of wood and in assorted sizes. Other items were tacked to the wall as well. The first weapon on the wall that caught my attention was a polished wooden crossbow. I took it off the large nail and stared down the sight to check the straightness of the flight groove. Pure perfection. Great attention had gone into every detail of its design. The wood grain was nearly black, which made it almost invisible in the dark. Power pulsed from the wood into my hands with a slight tingling sensation, causing me to examine it even more closely.\n\n\"That's a nice bow,\" she said, running her fingers down the dark wood. \"Do you prefer a crossbow over a regular bow?\"\n\n\"My mentor had one and let me use it. I've never shot a short bow like yours. For me these are easier to maneuver and require less time to aim. I think I'll buy this one.\" Without stating it aloud, I believed I was meant to find and purchase this crossbow, even though I didn't understand why. But I never argued with my Hunter's intellect.\n\nI found a dusty wooden crate beneath one table. It was filled with empty, corked globe-shaped bottles that I liked to fill with garlic juice and toss at vampires. Since such an attack only worked if the bottle shattered, I needed to restock the ones I had destroyed and fill these to use later. I counted out eight and placed them into a small empty crate. On a table with garlands of garlic cloves were small bottles labeled: Holy Water. I took a half dozen bottles of holy water, the biggest garland of garlic, and placed them in with the empty bottles.\n\n\"I'm set. Do you see anything you want?\" I asked. \"Since we are hunting vampires and not demons, do you have any stakes?\"\n\nPenelope shook her head. \"I've never hunted vampires, but wouldn't a wooden arrow through the heart work?\"\n\n\"Yes, but you might consider having a few stakes for backup in case something happens to your bow. Vampires move faster than a mortal's eye can track, and vampires tend to be somewhat cautious in their approach if you're holding a stake.\"\n\nShe grabbed several wooden stakes off the table and practiced downward motions with each in her right hand until she found a couple that suited her.\n\nWe returned to the old man at the counter. He had two pieces of yellow parchment in his hand. On the top parchment he had drawn the map to find Adnet's lair at the cemetery. It looked like a simple run to the crypt, stake the vampire, and return for the reward. In and out. Such arrangements are ideal but rare, and drew immediate skepticism on my part.\n\n\"Why hasn't anyone slain this vampire yet?\" I asked.\n\n\"A few have tried and failed.\"\n\n\"Why? What do you know about Adnet?\"\n\nThe old man adjusted his glasses and then rubbed the stubble on his chin. \"No one rightly knows. He settled in the cemetery after the last war. None of those who have entered the cemetery have ever made it to his crypt.\"\n\n\"Were they actual Hunters?\" I asked.\n\nHe shook his head. \"Very few Hunters visit the outskirts of the city. As you have probably noticed most of the buildings here are empty or rundown. We're still recovering from the war. Most of the residents packed up and moved away. Some refuse to leave. It's their homes, but labor ... finding a trade, tis hard here. People get desperate and are willing to do almost anything to make money. That includes risking their lives to slay a vampire.\"\n\n\"So Adnet killed them?\"\n\n\"We don't know. A few returned and swore the cemetery is haunted. Right, Abigail?\"\n\nShe paused with her needlework, nodded, and said, \"Haunted.\"\n\nI placed the crate of supplies and the crossbow on the counter. \"I'd like to buy these.\"\n\nHe rummaged through the crate, counting out the items, and then he looked at the crossbow. He held it up, admiring it. \"Fine crossbow. I almost hate to part with it.\"\n\n\"Why?\" I asked.\n\n\"This one came from an Irish weapon-maker living in Bucharest, at least that's how the story goes. Finest craftsman I've even seen.\"\n\nI frowned, staring at the crossbow. \"His name?\"\n\n\"Roy, I think.\" He scratched his wrinkled forehead and nodded. \"Yes, Roy.\"\n\nRose's father? No wonder I had felt a connection with the weapon. He fashioned all types of weapons exclusively for Hunters. This one shouldn't have been in a shop for sale though. A Hunter would never have parted with it. \"How did you get it?\"\n\nHe closed his eyes for several moments while rubbing his chin. \"Let me think. If I recall correctly, a peddler brought it in. He was having difficulty selling door to door with all the empty houses, of course, and decided to ask if I'd buy any of his supplies. When I saw the crossbow, I figured I'd eventually sell it to a Hunter. And if I didn't, it was worth far more than the modest price he had asked.\"\n\nI nodded. \"So how much for all of this?\"\n\nHe adjusted his glasses, and pointed at each item, counting again. Finally he gave me the price, which I thought was too modest, given the bow's quality, but with our money almost gone, I couldn't have offered more if I had wanted. After paying him, I barely had enough to buy one meal to split between all of us. We had no choice but to slay the local vampire.\n\nThe old man smiled. \"Can I help you with anything else?\"\n\nI pointed to the goggles tethered around Penelope's neck. \"Do you happen to have any goggles like these?\"\n\nHis brows rose with interest when he noticed them. He leaned partway across the counter, squinting. Penelope stepped closer for him to see. His lower lip tightened over his upper one while he thought. Finally, he shook his head. \"No, I've not seen anything like that, but in our kind of business here, we get odds and ends all the time. I never know from one week to the next what a traveler might bring in to trade.\"\n\n\"Okay, thanks.\"\n\n\"Anything else?\" he asked.\n\n\"What should we bring back as proof we've slain these vampires?\" I asked.\n\nKarl frowned. His brow furrowed deeply. \"What do you usually turn in as proof?\"\n\n\"If you know what types of jewelry he wears, that's usually something. Or we can bring back his ashes.\"\n\n\"I don't know if Adnet wears any jewelry, but if he does, that will suffice.\"\n\nI shrugged.\n\n\"If there's any other way I can help you?\" he said.\n\n\"Do you happen to have a garlic press?\" I asked.\n\nHe nodded. \"Sure. Follow me.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Eleven\n\nMy eyes stung and my throat itched after pressing enough garlic to fill three of the globe bottles with garlic juice. Penelope and I reeked of garlic. If anything, neither of us needed to worry about vampires trying to bite us anytime soon. However, I feared the odor would alert the slumbering vampire before we could get close enough to stake him. Overall, I was just glad it hadn't been onions we'd pressed.\n\nOnce she and I stepped outside the shop into the cold, she asked, \"Have you seen that crossbow before?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Do you know the craftsman?\"\n\n\"He crafted my Hunter box and carved some of my stakes.\"\n\n\"So it's a good bow?\"\n\n\"If he made it, it'd be one of the best a Hunter could get.\"\n\nPenelope smiled. \"Then that's good for you.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nThe ominous sky was dark with thick gray clouds that hung lower than normal. For a moment I was reminded of the blizzard sky on the late afternoon when I had encountered my first vampire. It wasn't something I'd ever forget, and I supposed I'd be reminded of it with each winter storm that arose.\n\nA few snowflakes floated along with the twirling breeze. The old buildings looked abandoned, even though we knew several that were not. The old shops reflected the depressive spirit of those who continued to reside here. The aftereffects of any war left scars, and it often took decades, sometimes generations, before the townspeople fully recovered. It was a common scene throughout the unrest in Europe, and one that I had grown tired of seeing, but the wars weren't about to lessen. In fact, I feared they'd become far worse.\n\nMidway across the square, Penelope took our rolled map from the small crate I was carrying. After unrolling it, she studied it while we walked toward the inn. \"Do you think this graveyard is haunted?\"\n\nI laughed softly. \"Have you ever seen a ghost?\"\n\nShe gave me a serious side-glance. \"Would you laugh at me if I said that I have?\"\n\nI stopped and looked at her. \"No, I would never laugh at you. Have you seen one?\"\n\nPenelope gave a reassured smile before she nodded. \"A few actually. You never have?\"\n\nI turned and started walking. \"I've felt the coldness of one's presence, but as far as actually seeing one? No. I don't deny their existence though.\"\n\n\"I'd worry about you if you did,\" she said, playfully crinkling her nose at me.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"You kill vampires and I kill demons. We both know zombies, ghouls, and were-creatures exist, so why not ghosts?\"\n\n\"Don't forget magic.\"\n\nShe grinned and her eyes sparkled. \"That, too.\"\n\n\"Pixies and fairies?\" I gave a sly grin.\n\n\"And leprechauns, too. Especially if you're a wee bit Irish.\"\n\nI was glad to see her smile again. I had hurt inside when I watched her cry. I wanted to make her aches go away.\n\nI placed the crate beneath my left arm and pulled open the inn door, allowing her to walk through first. I followed her down the narrow hall until she stopped outside a door and unlocked it.\n\nFather sat in an old rocker with a quilt covering him from the neck down. He was snoring. Madeline sat with her back against the headboard of the bed. Varak was cradled in her arms. The child was alert and staring around the room. When he heard us enter, he sat upright, watching us.\n\nPenelope glanced toward Varak and stared at him for several seconds before turning toward me. She visibly shivered, leaning closer to me as I set the crate onto a small round table. \"His eyes ...\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Wake your father and let's head to the cemetery,\" she whispered. \"I'm not very comfortable being near the child.\"\n\n\"I told you.\"\n\nI crossed the room and gently shook my father's shoulder. Alarmed, his eyes popped open. He took a deep breath and put his hand over his heart. \"Heavens, son, I didn't even hear you come in.\"\n\n\"Sorry,\" I said, grinning.\n\n\"So did you get the directions to find a vampire?\" he asked.\n\n\"For two different ones,\" I replied.\n\n\"Two?\"\n\nPenelope nodded. \"One is nearby, and the other one is on the way to Freiburg in the Black Forest.\"\n\n\"We could use the extra money,\" he said. \"Since our party keeps growing.\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" she said. \"I'll earn my keep.\"\n\nFather smiled. \"I wasn't implying that you are a burden to us, but we still need to eat and find lodging whenever the weather's unfavorable.\"\n\n\"I know,\" she replied with a narrow smile. \"But I refuse to expect others' charity.\"\n\n\"She makes more than we do, Father, and she doesn't even collect bounties.\"\n\nPenelope laughed softly.\n\nFather folded the quilt and placed it onto the rocker's seat. He came to the table where she had placed the map and studied it for a few moments. He frowned with confusion. \"What's the catch?\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"It seems too ... easy?\"\n\nPenelope laughed. \"The old man said that the cemetery is haunted.\"\n\n\"Don't tell me that you two believe that?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"We won't know until we get there.\"\n\n\"Did he indicate how far we needed to travel to get there?\"\n\n\"Less than a half hour on foot,\" I said.\n\n\"In this cold?\" Father asked with wide eyes.\n\n\"You don't have to go. Penelope and I can probably handle it.\"\n\n\"No,\" he replied in a gruff tone. \"I'll manage.\"\n\nI imagined his legs still ached from the cramped seating arrangement in the coach and the cold weather would make them hurt even more. \"We could get Thomas to drive us out there, but he was up all night and intends to head on to Freiburg once he awakens,\" I replied.\n\n\"Do we even have enough time to walk there and back by noon?\"\n\n\"Not if we keep standing around talking, Father.\"\n\nHe pointed his finger at me and shook it, before giving way to a grin. Then he noticed the crossbow on the table. He picked it up and studied it. His eyebrows rose, and he stared at me. \"If I had to wager, son, I'd say Roy carved this himself.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nPenelope looked impressed. \"Just by looking at it, you know who made it?\"\n\nFather smiled. \"He's a master woodworker and craftsman. None better. Where'd you happen upon this, son?\"\n\n\"Bought it from the man who drew the two maps.\"\n\n\"I see.\" He stared at me with sudden uneasiness.\n\nI knew what he was thinking without even asking. Roy had gifted my Hunter box to me, refusing to accept anything in return since he considered his craftsmanship the most suitable donation to aid the Chosen in their pursuit of slaying vampires. A disease cursed him from setting foot in the sunlight, so he housed himself underground where he diligently worked on weapons for Hunters to eradicate the undead.\n\nMost likely, Roy had gifted this crossbow to a Hunter. Since the Hunter no longer possessed it, he was probably dead.\n\nFather put on his overcoat and limped toward the door. \"Madeline, we will return as quickly as possible.\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Be careful.\"\n\nPenelope walked to the bedside and handed her an opal. \"In case we don't get back before the noon hour to checkout, give this gem to the keeper as payment. It's more than enough to compensate for the rest of the day, if necessary.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\n\"Barter for some food, too,\" she said with a sly smile.\n\nI met Father at the door. \"I need to get my Hunter box from the coach.\"\n\nHe patted his pockets and his lips formed a snarl from his frustration. \"I left my cross and stakes in the coach, too.\"\n\nWe hurried out of the inn. When we reached the coach, I twisted the handle downward as quietly as possible, hoping not to awaken Thomas. The door creaked slightly as I pulled it outward. I reached inside, grabbed the handle of my box, and pulled it to me without scraping the floor.\n\nAfter I stepped aside, Father leaned inside the coach and patted under the seat until he found his silver cross and his bundled stakes. He picked up Penelope's pack and bow and turned to hand them to her. She smiled as she took them. Several feathered ends of arrows protruded from the top of the pack.\n\nThe wind whistled softly through the barren trees at what appeared to have been a park, possibly before the war. I carried my box to a round, frozen water fountain and set the box on the icy brick wall. When I unlatched the clasps, Penelope was standing at my side. I never heard her approach.\n\nI put the fresh bottles of garlic juice into the box. The garlic odor lofted.\n\nShe reached into my box and took out a bottle of blessed salt. \"This stuff works on vampires, too?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"I've never used it. Supposedly a salt barrier can drive a vampire to insanity since they must count every grain. Sounds farfetched to me.\"\n\n\"Some vampires are insane to begin with,\" she said. \"I've heard older women talk about how fairies have to count the grains, too.\"\n\n\"Don't tell me you've seen fairies,\" I said.\n\n\"No, but I'm hopeful.\" She leaned against me, bumping against my ribcage with her shoulder. \"By drawing the proper symbols inside a circle of salt, I can trap a demon.\"\n\n\"That works?\"\n\nPenelope shrugged. \"It's supposed to. I've not tried it yet, but the healer told me how and drew the diagram for me.\"\n\n\"This is the same healer that accidentally summoned a demon during one of her rituals?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"With such a dreadful error in her incantation, I don't know that I'd trust her drawing to trap a demon. It might agitate it more.\"\n\nA slight giggle escaped her lips. \"I see your point. I've only killed demons from a distance, which I consider much safer and keeps me scar free. Besides, it takes a lot of salt to draw the circle and the symbols.\"\n\nI pulled six short narrow arrows from the box, examining the sharpened tips by pressing my thumb against them. All seemed sturdy.\n\n\"You were already carrying arrows without a crossbow?\" she asked.\n\n\"Only because these are unique.\"\n\n\"Oh? In what way, dear Hunter.\" She beamed a playful smile at me, clasping her hands together at her chest and swaying toward me. Her dramatic actions reminded me of a play Father and I had watched before leaving London. It appeared she had seen the same one, but her feigned actions were better than the actors we had seen.\n\nI gave her an odd look.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Theater?\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Sorry. I can get silly when I feel nervous.\"\n\n\"You're nervous?\"\n\n\"I've never helped slay a vampire before. But why are those arrows unique?\"\n\nI explained the enchanted shrubbery in London and how the Gypsy witch had blessed them to attack and stake vampires.\n\n\"And you plan to use those in the crossbow against this vampire?\"\n\n\"I'm hopeful,\" I said with a grin.\n\nFather held the map and faced south where only frames of buildings remained. Burnt skeletons of once thriving trees displayed the sorrow of their deaths when whatever troops had come through scorching the terrain. The old cobblestone road was covered by dried weeds and bramble and was barely visible.\n\nFather lowered the map and pointed. \"We follow the old road to find the cemetery.\"\n\nI snapped the latches shut on my box and hefted it, grabbing the loaded crossbow in my other hand. \"I'm ready.\"\n\nPenelope nodded and followed behind me. We walked past Father, and he took up the rear.\n\nWe didn't walk long before the remnants of the old road eroded into broken rocks, large holes, and thicker thorny bramble. Dry brittle strands of ivy threaded together overhead forming a thick canopy of vines and dead leaves, deepening the shadowy gloom that shrouded the path into near darkness. Between the heavily overcast sky and the darkened trees, one would believe it was dusk, even though we had yet to reach the noon hour.\n\nAlthough I didn't express my sudden concern, I recalled what Jacques had told me almost a year earlier about how a vampire can move during the day provided the sun was somehow fully blocked. Some vampires were even capable of controlling mists and fog, as I had learned in London. The elements of the weather and our surroundings were more than favorable for this vampire to emerge from hiding and attack us before we even reached the cemetery or his lair.\n\nHowever, worse things loomed that none of us had even considered.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twelve\n\nThe closer to the cemetery we walked, the worse the terrain became. No longer were the thin vines draped, connecting overhead and between the trees, but giant thick thorns capable of impaling a man grew on black treelike branches that spiraled around one another to form a wicked tunnel. Such could have only been brought to life by the curse of a vindictive witch.\n\nAn oppressive cloud of misery overshadowed me, draining me of hope and driving me toward despair. Whispers taunted me, drawing me toward one of the sharpened thorns, trying to persuade me to ram my chest against it and pierce my heart. I resisted, but the mental image of one of these black thorns staked through my heart while a widening pool of blood spread beneath my suspended body looked terrifyingly realistic. I wanted to think of pleasant thoughts, memories, anything except such a grueling death, but my mind was frozen upon this depiction of an unpleasant fate.\n\nAfter a few seconds, I took another step into the narrowing tunnel. The pattern of the interwoven branches, thorns, and the never-ending spiral was mesmerizing, making me dizzy. I shook my head, trying to steady my next step, hopeful that I didn't fall against one of the sharp thorns. Because of the thickness of the coiled vines and the countless thorn tips, no alternate path existed. A small child couldn't press through the sides of this deadly tunnel wall. It was either continue forward or turn back. But my mind pressed me to go forward. Chattering whispers buzzed near my ears, as annoying as mosquitoes seeking blood, and urged me to sacrifice my life's blood, but offering no reason for such martyrdom.\n\nWhatever sensation was pricking at my mind, was trying to overwhelm and control me, but a vampire wasn't causing it, I was certain of that, since none had ever been able to compel me. This tunnel had been formed by magic. I detected it, and it was far darker than any spells I had encountered before. Once I realized what was beckoning me to end my life, I was better able to resist.\n\nI reached into my pocket and found the blessed protective talisman Matilda had given me in London. I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger. Energy tingled against my skin. The evil whispering chants lessened but didn't completely dissolve.\n\nA hand grabbed my elbow and tugged. I spun around.\n\nPenelope stood, looking at me. \"You feel the overpowering darkness, too?\"\n\nI nodded. The feeling was everywhere.\n\n\"Close your eyes,\" she said.\n\nI did. Sharp pellets struck my face and bounced off my leather hat like sleet. I opened my eyes. She held out a handful of the blessed salt.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" I asked.\n\n\"The salt should break the oppressive spell that's overshadowing us. Hold out your hand.\" She poured some of the salt into my hand. \"Eat it.\"\n\nI placed the salt on my tongue and let it dissolve. The uneasiness cocooned around me, and the whispers suddenly dispelled.\n\nPenelope hurried to my father and placed salt on his tongue. After his eyes indicated he was aware of his surroundings, she returned to me. \"Forrest, the cemetery isn't haunted like the people have told the old man. They walked into this oppressive wall of anguish. But whoever placed the curse here didn't do it to keep people out. It's here to keep the vampire trapped inside the cemetery.\"\n\n\"Even without the overpowering spell of gloom, I doubt he'd chance coming through these thorns. He could easily stake himself.\"\n\n\"I think that's the intent,\" Father whispered. \"Some of the dreadful thoughts that came to mind ... I've had better nightmares and drunken hallucinations.\"\n\n\"I agree.\" I glanced to each of them. \"Are you ready to continue or should we turn back?\"\n\nFather sighed. \"My head's clear now. I'm ready.\"\n\n\"You?\" I asked her.\n\n\"Of course. I realized what was happening before either of you.\"\n\nI leaned toward her, pressed my cheek against hers, and whispered, \"Thank you.\"\n\nShe turned her face slightly and kissed my cheek. \"You're welcome. But we're not in the cemetery yet. Who knows what else lies ahead.\"\n\n\"Always the pessimist, aren't you?\" I said with an even smile.\n\n\"When it comes to vampires and demons, it's better to be cautious than carefree.\"\n\n\"That's true.\"\n\nI turned back toward the path. Since the other Hunter had threatened my life, I couldn't shake the feeling of the price I'd have to pay for keeping Varak alive. And with what had just happened, I feared this was only the beginning. I wanted to turn back, but we needed the bounty for this vampire. It would take weeks of menial labor to earn a fraction of the reward money. With plague demons after Thomas, and the Hunter or Hunters searching for me, we didn't have time to sacrifice. We needed to reach Freiburg quickly.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirteen\n\nThe strange whispering vanished, at least for me, but the dark tunnel narrowed. I took each step more cautiously, watching the shallow shadow recesses and expecting something to lash out and attack or latch onto my leg and pull me into the thorns. I attempted to make my body smaller, which made walking more difficult.\n\nWhile the narrowing tunnel was dark, we didn't need a lantern to see our way. Occasionally shreds of clothing or leather hung from the tips of the thorns where others had passed too closely. I wondered how many had braved the steps this far into the passageway. Like Karl had said, desperate people were willing to put their lives on the line when they lacked food or if they had hungry children.\n\nThe thorn-encrusted tunnel twisted in a slight curve toward the right. It seemed we had walked forever, and still we had not seen the first tombstone. The tunnel had come into existence long after the cemetery had been established because no one in their right mind would have troubled themselves to travel through here to bury the dead. But the longer we walked, the more I wondered if this tunnel even ended at a cemetery. Like Father and I had questioned the shortness of the map, the route to the cemetery had seemed too easy on paper. Nothing Karl had told us or drawn even indicated this winding, dangerous path.\n\nI stopped and faced Penelope and Father. \"You two okay?\"\n\nThey nodded.\n\n\"You want to turn back?\" I asked.\n\nPenelope glanced to my Father.\n\nHe shrugged. \"I'm not tired, if that's what you're implying.\"\n\n\"No, Father, that's not why I'm asking. We've moved at such a slow pace that none of us should be weary. I'm wondering if we missed something before we got into this passageway.\"\n\n\"You think there's another way into the cemetery?\" she asked.\n\n\"The winding branches forming this tunnel aren't an accident,\" I said.\n\nPenelope nodded. \"I told you they are here to keep the vampire inside the cemetery and prevent him from escaping.\"\n\n\"I agree. But that means someone is using magic to keep this vampire as a prisoner. But why?\"\n\n\"Maybe,\" Father said. \"But if he cannot get out to feed, he might be withered inside his crypt and unable to defend himself. An easy kill and easy money.\"\n\n\"If collecting the bounty for this vampire was easy, why hasn't anyone claimed it yet?\"\n\n\"The people got frightened and ran out?\" Father suggested.\n\n\"Possibly some of them did, but I've noticed some shredded clothing on the thorns. Some of those people might have made it into the cemetery to face a hungry vampire. They wouldn't have escaped death.\"\n\n\"Doesn't seem anyone died along the path,\" Father said. \"No skeletons.\"\n\n\"Unless their bodies were dragged into the cemetery?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Forrest,\" Penelope said. \"While the thorns certainly could keep a vampire trapped, they are also an obvious deterrent to keep humans out. According to Karl, most of them fled and told him and his wife that the place was haunted.\"\n\n\"With those horrid voices whispering in my head,\" Father said, \"I'd think so, too, if we hadn't discover it was a spell. Let's go a little ways farther, son. If we don't reach the cemetery, we turn back and pack the coach.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nI turned, holding the crossbow as if I intended to fire. Other than the magic looming around us, I expected something else to appear. \"Do you sense any demons, Penelope?\"\n\n\"I haven't yet.\"\n\n\"Could a witch's magic mask their presence?\"\n\nShe was silent for several moments while we crept deeper into the dark passageway. \"I've never heard of it, but I imagine if the witch held dark intentions and was powerful enough, she might be able to control one. I know the healer summoned one.\"\n\n\"Do you have weapons to use at close range, if a demon emerges?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" She slid her arm through her bow and knelt to look through her pack. She pulled out a dagger. Runic symbols were engraved into the handle and the blade. \"This is the best demon killer I have besides my bow. Of course, holy water can work, depending upon the type of demon. Bibles can work, too. Crosses, if you know the proper scriptures.\"\n\n\"I'm at a loss there,\" I said.\n\nShe cocked a brow at me and opened her mouth, but I shook my head and interrupted her.\n\n\"Let's not discuss it now. I spend too much time explaining my views about religion and that is sacred to me. The important question right now is, 'do you know the proper scriptures?'\"\n\nPenelope nodded. \"I do, but I'm surprised you don't. Strange how many of the same weapons work against demons and vampires.\"\n\n\"I know. Let's go.\"\n\nThe tunnel curved back to the left and straightened. Ahead of us light filtered through, where I guessed the exit to this long thorny passageway finally ended. I almost let out a huge sigh of relief when a loud sound echoed from behind us.\n\n\"Get out of my head!\" the deep harsh voice bellowed.\n\n\"Son?\" Father said. \"Hurry!\"\n\nPenelope pushed her hand against my back. \"Someone's coming.\"\n\nI glanced over my shoulder but didn't see anyone in the dark tunnel. But whoever was approaching continued cursing, growling, and he was getting closer. By my guess, he was probably around the bend of the tunnel, but who or what he was, or even his intentions; there wasn't any way for us to know.\n\nAs we approached the faint light, the tunnel widened. I hurried my steps into a slight jog. At the end of the winding branches a rusted gate stood as the last obstacle. I pushed it open, and the hinges whined.\n\nThe soil on the other side of the gate was gray. Aged tombstones, some broken, tilted, or shattered, were clustered beneath dark leafless trees forking wicked branches toward the overcast sky. Some of the other tombstones were fashioned with little cherubs or stone vases. Scattered across the graveyard were three stone crypts larger than most cottages. Large menacing statues shaped like angels or hooded clerics held stone swords and daggers as if protectors of the dead, or the undead. Knowing a vampire resided inside one of the three stone crypts made me leery, but it wasn't dark enough for him to emerge.\n\nI tugged my chained watch from an inner pocket and checked the time. It was three hours until noon. If ever I needed an old Hunter's intellect to bless me, it was now. The vampire slept inside one of these crypts or possibly even a grave, but I didn't expect any hints to be given to me. Hunters received guidance but we were never given full knowledge about everything. We were expected to hunt, which was why we were chosen, but being pressed for time, I selfishly desired a pinpointed location. I shook my head. It wasn't happening. My spiritual Hunter advisors were eerily silent.\n\nSurveying the graveyard, looking for the slightest clue, I said, \"We made it through.\"\n\nThe voice inside the tunnel shrieked with agony. I shoved the gate closed, but it wouldn't prevent anyone else from opening it.\n\n\"But we're not alone,\" Penelope said.\n\n\"Probably another Hunter wanting to get the reward before we do,\" Father said through tight lips.\n\n\"Someone help me!\" the man in the tunnel shouted. \"The vines are wrapping me up!\"\n\nI turned and grabbed the gate.\n\nPenelope placed her hand atop mine and shook her head. \"No, Forrest. It's probably a trap. You go back in there, and it might be a demon who wants to kill you.\"\n\n\"But can't you tell if it's a demon?\" I asked.\n\nHer eyes widened. \"Not always. Some use such convincing disguises it's hard to discern whether they are humans or not. And besides that, the magic shrouding the tunnel has a distorting influence. While your intention is to help the person, if he's actually human, the magic could distort your appearance to him, making him believe you're a demon or monster. He might kill you when you try to free him.\"\n\nFather glanced at me. \"It could be worse than that.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"There might not be anyone else in the tunnel at all. Think about the enchanted hedges. The spell over them was to yank the vampire into the hedgerow and stab him until a branch staked through his heart. I don't know what nightmarish visions you two suffered when we first walked into the thorns, but those voices want blood. They crave blood.\"\n\n\"I got that impression, too,\" I whispered.\n\n\"It makes sense,\" Penelope said.\n\n\"Why?\" I asked.\n\n\"Dark magic by a witch with a dark soul,\" she replied. \"The ones who practice black magic need to offer blood in their sacrifices. Perhaps blood feeds the wicked wall.\"\n\nI told them about how the voices had tried to convince me to impale myself.\n\nFather swallowed hard. His brow furrowed. \"Mine was worse. The voices ... they wanted me to shove each of you into the giant thorns. I'd have never done it. I'd have impaled myself first, but having those thoughts haunts me.\"\n\n\"Those thick plants need blood,\" Penelope said.\n\n\"No skeletal remains on the path though,\" I said.\n\n\"But there were remnants of clothes,\" she replied. \"The vines might have ways of pulling the bodies into the wall and dissolving them as food, leaving no trace of its victims.\"\n\n\"The only thing that saved us was the salt?\" I asked.\n\n\"For now,\" she replied.\n\nI took in the information, biting my lower lip. \"Then let's find this vampire, slay him, and get out of here. But, we stick close to one another.\"\n\nFather pointed toward the closest tree line. \"I don't think there's another exit out of the cemetery.\"\n\nHe was right. The cemetery was a large circle surrounding by towering rows of thorny vines like the tunnel but these formed a wall by connecting to the outer perimeter trees. There wasn't any way to cross through them. The only good thing about the enclosure was it made an excellent wind barrier, and the temperature seemed warmer than back at the edge of the city.\n\n\"We have three crypts, Father. Which should we check first?\" I asked.\n\nHe frowned. \"Why are you asking me? Don't you know?\"\n\n\"I don't. But you've hunted vampires longer than I have. I was curious as to what clues you'd look for in determining where he might be.\"\n\nFather ran his hand through his beard, eyeing each crypt. \"While I'm not certain, I'd go to the farthest first.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nHe shrugged. \"Given how he's apparently imprisoned in the cemetery, that crypt is the farthest from the entrance, which intimidates those with lesser fortitude.\"\n\nMade sense to me. \"All right. Stick close. We need to keep check on the entrance in case it is a human hoping to slay the vampire and get the bounty. We don't want to accidentally kill someone who isn't an undead.\"\n\nPenelope placed her hand on my forearm. Her eyes narrowed as she glanced across the cemetery.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked.\n\n\"Something evil.\"\n\n\"A demon?\"\n\n\"Not necessarily. But I sense it. Do you?\"\n\nI scanned the areas around the crypts and the tall tombstones, seeing nothing. I didn't sense anything out of the ordinary. No forewarnings pricked at my mind. I shook my head.\n\n\"Sorry I cannot be of more help,\" she said. \"I think whatever spell holds the thorny barriers in place has affected my psychic sensors.\"\n\n\"I'm still having problems from it, too,\" I replied. \"But I'm under the impression that once someone gets inside the cemetery, they're not meant to leave. Let's keep going, but we need to stay alert. If you're sensing an evil presence, I believe we're going to find it. Soon.\"\n\nAt the path that led to a crossroads was the first large angelic statue with magnificent feathered wings. It must have been at least ten feet tall. In its right hand it thrust a long sword upward, as if leading a charge into a great battle. The smooth face beckoned peace while the sword shouted war. Its left hand was empty with its palm held upward. It had held something at one point in time.\n\nI shuffled my feet at the statue's base to move aside leaves. My foot tapped a solid object. I stooped and brushed aside the leaves. On the ground was an open book carved from stone that this angel must have held. I assumed the book was supposed to be the Holy Bible, but I didn't open the subject for debate.\n\n\"Let's go,\" I said.\n\nWe causally made our way to the crossroads where another statue stood. Unlike the angelic representative, this sculpture exhibited evil. The face was featureless, except for the catlike eyes that receded into its head. A hooded cloak draped over the forehead almost covering the eyes from view. A long robe covered its body. Both hands extended forward, frozen in cupped formations, but no weapon was in its hands. On the ground was the massive stone scythe that had somehow been dislodged from its stone grip.\n\nCrows cawed from the perimeter trees.\n\nI glanced at the dark statue's eyes. I couldn't imagine anyone having the bravery to enter this cemetery at night. These statues were intimidating enough in the daylight. Shrouded in complete darkness? Even I would hesitate further investigation.\n\nBeyond the center of the crossroads, the rock-covered path was buried beneath thick layers of dry leaves, but we didn't need to follow the road to reach the crypts. However we couldn't cross the cemetery without making noise. I kicked my way through the leaves while Penelope and Father crunched them underfoot. My boot struck something and it rolled across a rock-covered grave. It was a hat. A Hunter's hat.\n\nPenelope rushed to it and picked it up. She examined it and looked inside. When her eyes met mine, her lower lip trembled.\n\n\"What's wrong?\"\n\n\"It's my father's,\" she replied.\n\n\"You're sure?\"\n\nShe nodded. Tears tugged at the edges of her eyes. I lowered my Hunter box to the ground and rushed to her. I wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her tightly.\n\nI whispered, \"It doesn't mean he's dead. It's only his hat.\"\n\nPenelope pulled back, her chest heaving as she fought her building sobs. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. \"You're right. Besides, I can't lose my self-control here, not when there's a vampire nearby.\"\n\nShe wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly.\n\n\"Forrest,\" Father said with urgency rising in his voice.\n\nStill hugging Penelope, I saw the creature, raised the crossbow and fired before he finished his warning. The arrow plunged through the ghoul's head, causing it to stagger for a few moments before it dropped backwards on the ground. It wasn't dead. Only fire completely destroyed a ghoul, at least in my experiences. They were the creepiest creatures I had ever fought and without fire, you couldn't kill them. Hack them into a thousand pieces and each piece crawled, moved, trying to find a living creature to kill and devour, even after they weren't physically able to do so. A strange sound erupted from its odd mouth like nothing I'd ever heard before. It sprang to its feet and turned until it located us. Its long pointy tongue hung from its mouth, dripping drool. At the edge of the closest crypt were three more with wide crazed eyes focused on us. I should have known not to shoot it because where there's one ghoul, there's generally a few more. Sometimes, a whole lot more.\n\nThey were diabolical creatures, and now we knew what Penelope had sensed. I wasn't sure how we were going to escape or kill them.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Fourteen\n\n\"You ever fight a ghoul?\" I asked Penelope.\n\nShe shook her head, staring at them with frightened awe. \"I've only read about them, and my father ... He told me stories about them. I doubt they were true.\"\n\n\"Unlike zombies, they have enough intelligence to hunt and kill humans. Fire's the only thing that will destroy them.\"\n\n\"Can we outrun them?\" she asked.\n\n\"I can't,\" Father said.\n\nThe ghoul with the arrow stuck in its head pointed at me, jumped and squealed. The other three rushed toward us with strange gurgling sounds rattling from their oversized mouths. They snarled and ran on all fours.\n\n\"Father, grab my box.\"\n\nHe gave me a perplexed stare. \"Don't jest with me in a time like this.\"\n\n\"Grab it!\"\n\nFather grabbed the handle tightly and glared at me. I stooped, slung him partway over my left shoulder while he held onto the box, and then I ran toward the crypt near the center of the cemetery.\n\n\"Penelope, run to that crypt over there,\" I said, nodding toward it.\n\nShe sprinted ahead of me.\n\n\"Forrest! Put me down,\" he said.\n\n\"Do you want to live or get eaten alive by those things?\"\n\n\"Never mind. Run! The damned things are running toward us like wild dogs.\"\n\nPenelope tripped over a small grave marker hidden under the leaves. She hit the ground hard and groaned, grabbing her ankle. As I neared her, she attempted to push herself up. She looked toward me and her face twisted from the pain. I flung the crossbow to my left hand, reached down and grabbed the pack secured on her back, lifting it and her off the ground without a pause in step.\n\nFew times in my early years was I ever thankful for my abnormally large size and incredible strength, and this was one of those occasions. I ran full speed with Father propped over my shoulder while carrying Penelope like a baggage trunk in my right hand. My feet clopped like a Clydesdale on pavement as I hurried to the crypt. A few months ago, I would have probably tripped over my huge feet, trying to run, but Jacques had convinced me to keep practicing my running, which I had done, a lot, and it had helped.\n\nI glanced toward the crypt, but kept my attention focused more on the leaf-covered ground because I didn't want to fall like she had. I couldn't imagine how bad that would be for Father should I topple forward, and he crashed to the hard ground. Physically, he was in bad enough shape without any added injuries.\n\n\"Hurry, Forrest,\" Father said, slapping my lower back with his free hand, as if his encouragement could make me run any faster. Maybe in the panic, he thought I was a Clydesdale? \"They're getting closer.\"\n\nI rounded toward the other side of the crypt, lowered Penelope to the ground, and Father dropped my Hunter box. \"Prepare yourself, Father.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nI brought him over my shoulder, cradled him in my arms, and then slung him into the air. He frantically waved his arms before he landed on the top of the roof. \"What the Hell, son? Are you trying to kill me?\"\n\nI reached for Penelope's waist.\n\nShe shook her head defiantly, trying to back away. \"Oh, no. Don't you dare!\"\n\nI grabbed her and boosted her up where Father could reach her hands and pull her onto the roof.\n\n\"I see where your affections lie, son! Throw your decrepit old father into the air like a bundle of tied straw, but she\u2014\"\n\n\"There isn't time for arguments,\" I said, grabbing my box off the ground.\n\n\"What about you, Forrest?\" she asked, reaching a hand downward.\n\n\"Not even the two of you can possibly pull me up there. Just keep your voices down and don't draw attention to yourselves.\"\n\nFather gave me a worried look, but said nothing.\n\nThe four ghouls came around the corner of the crypt toward me, their long wet tongues swaying and dribbling viscous foamy spittle. Their strange yellow eyes turned blacker than ink. Their mouths elongated, and they flexed their hands, pointing their claws.\n\nI turned to run and a fifth ghoul stood blocking my path. This ghoul was shorter than the others, but not any less deadly. Faint purplish blood vessels pulsed on its ashen gray face. The large eyes resembled globs of black tar enveloped beneath an oozy sheen. Its ears were pointed back, reminding me of the plague demon. It hissed and ran its long rough tongue across its jagged yellow teeth.\n\n\"Forrest,\" Penelope gasped, obviously as shocked to see this one as I was. I had only counted four, but there could be a dozen more.\n\nThere was madness in this creature's eyes. Raspy sounds echoed in its throat. It gnashed its teeth and growled. I swung my Hunter box with all my strength, smacking it square in the side of its head. The impact crushed its skull with a sick crunching sound, pivoted its head sideways, and sent the ghoul rolling across the leaves. Although it was injured, it wasn't dead. I carried the arc with the momentum and careened the box around at the ones behind me, hoping to incapacitate them for a few minutes. I only struck two of them, which caused the other two to scramble from my reach. I ran.\n\nGhouls were cowardly in some respects, which was why they traveled in packs and tended to hunt solitary victims. If their intended terrified victim was injured and scrambling for his life, a pack of ghouls became bolder and pursued.\n\nGlancing back over my shoulder, I noticed the ghouls clambering together into a group. None of them seemed to notice that Father and Penelope were on the roof of the crypt, which was good. I had put some distance between me and the five ghouls, but I didn't have any idea where to go.\n\nWithout a substantial amount of help, I didn't have any chance of pulling myself up to one of the rooftops. None of the trees had lower branches I could climb, and since the ghouls could see me inside this small cemetery, they wouldn't easily stop their pursuit despite their injuries.\n\nI wanted to slink to the side of the crypt, out of view, but I needed to be in a position where I could keep an eye on the ghouls. If they crept up behind me while I wasn't aware of their location, I'd die quickly. No doubts about that.\n\nFather had said that they were pursuing us like a pack of wild dogs, and that was true. They also held the same type of mentality. Ghouls were stronger in groups, quick to rip and tear a human apart. I'd never seen a solitary ghoul. They actually relied upon one another. Because of this, I should have delayed my initial attack when I had shot the first one until after we had located where the rest of the group was.\n\nThe one thing I knew best about the ghouls was how much I absolutely despised them.\n\nI dropped to my knees and opened my box. I considered using my pistol, but I didn't want to waste silver bullets on something they wouldn't actually kill. I had stove matches and flint, but no flammable liquids. Starting a fire out in the open would only frighten them away until the fire burned out, and I needed a large fire capable of consuming them. Such was the dilemma.\n\nThe five ghouls moved in unison at a slow gait like hunting dogs on the scent of birds, ready to flush a covey out of hiding. They remained low, on all fours, sniffing the air, making strange guttural sounds, and they used large tombstones to hide behind as they peered around.\n\nClosing my box of hunting tools, I left it on the ground. With the tip of my dagger, I pricked my finger and squeezed several drops of blood onto the corner of the box. I smeared the blood across the box with my thumb and grabbed my crossbow before rushing toward the nearest crypt. When I reached the wall, I glanced to see their location. They scrambled across the ground to my box; almost apelike in how they carried themselves. They sniffed the box and clawed at it with their long sharp nails. They obviously smelled the blood. One tried chewing on a corner of the box but didn't seem happy with the taste. A couple of the ghouls found my smeared blood and licked at the box hungrily, smacking at the others when they attempted to nudge their way closer. They gnashed and growled at one another, but I doubted their bickering would last long since there was little blood to fight over.\n\nI made my way around the far side of the crypt. A protective iron fence ran alongside the building, approximately four feet away from the wall. It was a safeguard to prevent people from plummeting over the edge onto the carved rock stairs that led down to an iron gate below. The set of stairs led to a lower level where a casket was probably stored, and I contemplated heading down. At the bottom of the stairs a large pile of leaves, at least knee-deep, had collected over time from the wind blowing them through the fence.\n\nIt appeared to be a good fire source, but how could I set a trap?\n\nAn old iron gate secured the sepulcher. It could be locked, but I doubted it would be. Of course as corroded as the gate was, it could be wielded shut by the thick rust.\n\nIf I could get inside the crypt, kick in enough leaves, and get the ghouls lured inside ... Phht. The ghouls would follow me regardless of anything else. I didn't need to worry about that. I was more concerned about getting cornered inside by the ghouls. I didn't like the odds of fighting against five ghouls inside a tight space. But what choice did I have? The entire cemetery was magically sealed inside the thickly coiled thorny vines. One could only run so long around the circular graveyard before suffering exhaustion and falling victim to these ungodly creatures or the vampire, if one resided in the cemetery.\n\nThat was the first moment such a thought had dawned on me. Did the vampire we had come to slay actually exist?\n\nHoarse gurgling sounds echoed softly from the other side of the crypt. The ghouls were coming for me. I had gifted them with the taste of blood and now they wanted more. A strange sound echoed farther away, like the scraping of a sharp object being dragged along a stone. A few seconds later, the sound occurred again, but at a different location in the cemetery, and then at another spot. The rough scraping noises reverberated faster, making an ear-piercing painful sound. I had no idea what was responsible for those noises, but the ghouls had not made them and seemed to have ignored them.\n\nI hurried to the bottom of the steps. Grabbing the gate, I was alarmed by how close their growls were overhead. They were trying to squeeze their heads through the iron bars of the fence. Ghouls were smarter than zombies, but not overly intelligent. Their hunger controlled them more and desperation set in their eyes as they peered down at me. Nothing registered in their minds that they could have simply followed the fence until they found the stairs. Instead, they sought to get through the iron bars.\n\nI pushed the small iron gate open. It didn't budge. I yanked on it and shook it hard. Bits of rust cascaded off the bars. The hinges squeaked. The ghouls lunged at the fence above, reaching through the bars with their long pale arms, and swiping their claws uselessly. I was thankful they had not figured out how to follow the fence to get to the stairs.\n\nI shoved the gate, pushing my weight against it. It moved slightly where the latch connected but still resisted. The ghouls growled louder, sometimes moaning from their anticipation. I was a big enough meal to satiate all of their hunger, provided they reached me, but I was just outside their reach.\n\n\"Forrest!\" Penelope yelled. \"Are you okay?\"\n\nAll five ghouls stiffened and turned toward the direction of her voice.\n\nWell, I was. I cringed, shook my head, and grumbled.\n\nThe ghouls scurried along the fence, tugging the bars as they moved. When they reached the end of the fence, one noticed the stairs and hobbled down two of the steps. Its long winding tongue curled. It bore sharp jagged teeth. Instead of a growl, it seemed to purr for a moment with contentment and a sense of accomplishment.\n\nI took a step back from the gate and kicked the door latch hard. The gate swung inward with screeching hinges. I raked the leaves inside the door with the side of my boot, as many as I could. I glanced up the steps. The five ghouls descended. Their black eyes grew wider and more menacing, possessed by their insatiable hunger.\n\nThey turned their heads slightly and their jaws popped loudly. Their mouths were larger and their jaws came unhinged so they could take larger bites and rip the flesh from my bones. Coldness rushed through me, and suddenly the thought of being impaled by one of the massive sharp thorns in the passageway had seemed a much better fate than how I pictured myself dying now.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Fifteen\n\nI rushed into the crypt, kicking more leaves into a huge pile near the door. In hindsight, I don't know why I had thought this would be a good plan. Leaf debris was a quick burst of heat and fire, rapidly escalating and plummeting in strength almost as fast. The rising flames poised a greater chance of causing the ghouls to flee rather than harming them. I needed a longer lasting fuel for the fire to destroy the ghouls. There wasn't anything useable inside the crypt. The entire sepulcher was made from stone. No wooden rafters. Even the coffin was carved out of stone.\n\nThe first ghoul charged through the door without hesitation. I sidestepped and cupped my huge hand around the back of its hairless head, lifting it into the air. I turned and smashed its face against the stone wall. Bones crunched. Its forehead sunk inward and bits of shattered teeth showered down. It yelped. I flung it hard against the opposite wall and it collapsed to the cold floor.\n\nI pulled my dagger as the next two dashed toward me. I kicked the one to my left, knocking it out the door into the other two. The other ghoul leapt into the air and landed on my chest. Its rotten breath reeked of death and decay. It opened its large mouth wide enough to take off my head. I staggered backwards, trying to avoid its mouth, especially the teeth, when I noticed it had raised its clawed hand into the air. It swung, aiming for my throat, hoping\u2014I guessed\u2014to gash open my tenderest flesh to spill the greatest amount of blood.\n\nBefore it flailed downward, I toppled, falling fast to the hard floor. I rammed my dagger into its gut as I hit the floor. It squealed in pain. I grabbed it by the throat and squeezed, pushing the dagger deeper. Black blood leaked over my hand. It gurgled for a moment and desperately raked its claws across my arm. The thickness of my coat prevented a deep gash, but it had cut me. The scent of my blood invited the other three to rush inside the tight quarters.\n\nI yanked my dagger free and flung the ghoul toward its three companions, missing, but I rolled and pushed myself to my feet. The ghoul I had smashed against the wall writhed on the floor. It wasn't dead but at least it wasn't a threat yet.\n\nI moved to the other side of the stone coffin and faced the four ghouls. I pushed the coffin lid aside. The coffin was empty. It was a shame the vampire wasn't lying asleep or dormant inside. I had once executed a vampire with the indiscriminate help of hungry ghouls who had torn him and his offspring apart. It would have been good to use this vampire as a distraction while I escaped the crypt. That wasn't an option though.\n\nThe ghouls formed a semi-circle, facing me, and slowly moved inward to trap me in the corner. I could have run for the narrow door, but not without at least two of them latching onto me with their sharp claws and trying to bite me. With the large number of sharp teeth each ghoul had, it didn't take but a few strong bites to cause rapid blood loss for a victim. The slightest bite, however, could infect the person and curse him or her to slowly transform into a ghoul. These were other reasons why I hated encountering and killing ghouls and another situation where I missed Jacques. Werewolves were resistant to most undead infections. I was not. So even though I greatly outsized them, I couldn't risk one sinking its teeth into me. And besides that, I needed to survive so I could get Penelope and Father down off the roof. I believed it would take the three of us together to get through the tunnel safely.\n\nI hefted the stone coffin lid upright and held it so the long narrow side was horizontal, and I used it as a shield. The stone lid was heavier than I estimated, and I strained to carry it. My arms and back ached.\n\nThe ghouls seemed confused with me holding it. Fighting the burning sensation of fatigue building in my biceps, forearms, and my hands, I growled with ferocity. The noise partially startled them for a moment, perhaps they thought I was transforming into some sort of beast, but I took the opportunity of their hesitation to rush at them. With the lid I pushed two of the ghouls across the floor and smashed them against the wall. The other two were too swift to get pinned or trapped. One leapt over the lid while the other scurried underneath.\n\nI left the heavy coffin lid against the wall with the two ghouls struggling unsuccessfully to get the weight off of them. I turned quickly to face the escaped ghouls. One of the two still had the arrow protruding from its head. I grabbed the arrow shaft, pulled, and swung the ghoul into the air. It bounced off the far wall and dropped beside its injured companion.\n\nThe last standing ghoul leapt onto my back, growling and slashing. I winced as the claws cut through my overcoat. I tried to reach over my shoulder, but the wicked creature stayed outside of my reach and refused to let go. Fiery lines of pain surfaced where its claws had penetrated through the leather material and into my flesh. I had never heard an instance where the claws spread the ghoul infection, but I supposed it was possible. Something for me to worry about later.\n\nA second before I would have rammed my back against the wall in an attempt to crush the ghoul, a line of brightness cut through the shadows. Air whooshed past my head, the ghoul fell slack, and dropped to the floor. A fiery arrow smoldered in its head. Smoke drifted from its ears, nose, and mouth. Its body twitched and spasmed before growing stiff. I glanced toward the door. Penelope flashed a broad smile. \"Can't let you have all of the fun.\"\n\n\"Where's Father?\"\n\n\"Still on the roof. I had to jump. I needed to know you were okay.\"\n\nI winced, rolled my shoulders, and turned my back toward her so she could inspect the lacerations.\n\n\"You have a lot of cuts but none are deep or look severe.\"\n\nI sighed. \"What about disease from their claws?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"We need to get out of here,\" I said. \"But I don't want to leave these creatures alive, just in case others come to the cemetery seeking to slay the vampire. I had thought about using the leaves to start a fire, but it might not be hot enough to kill them.\"\n\n\"They're not getting around too good right now.\"\n\n\"They'll recover, given time.\"\n\nThe two beneath the coffin lid were trapped between the lid and the wall. The two against the other wall were panting and sprawled out on the floor, but neither made any attempt to crawl. The one she had shot with the flaming arrow wasn't moving. If anything the fire had obliterated its brain, but I doubted its body wouldn't eventually try to become mobile again.\n\n\"I have an idea,\" I said.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nI carefully grabbed the brain-dead ghoul by one foot and tossed it into the empty coffin, and then I grabbed the two against the far wall and placed them inside as well. I hurried to the heavy stone lid. \"When I lift this, throw them into that coffin, too.\"\n\nShe nervously glanced to the ghouls and then to me.\n\n\"Both are probably suffering from broken bones, but be quick and make certain you don't get bitten. Are you ready?\"\n\nPenelope pursed her lips. \"Ready? Forrest, you could ask me that a hundred years from now and I still wouldn't be ready to touch one of them.\"\n\nI gave her an even stare as I reached for the lid. \"They're hideous creatures. I agree. But leaving them where they can recover and kill again isn't something any Hunter should do.\"\n\nShe nodded. We were both obligated to tasks neither of us enjoyed.\n\nI heaved the stone lid, and she grabbed each ghoul by one foot and dragged them like burlap bags of sand. She put them into the coffin, and I slid the lid across until it was flush with all sides.\n\nI arched and stretched my back, and groaned with some relief.\n\n\"You think they can slide the top aside to escape?\" she asked.\n\nI gave a slight shrug. \"I doubt they can budge it.\"\n\n\"Will they die?\"\n\n\"All but one.\"\n\nPenelope gave an incredulous stare. \"They'll eat one another?\"\n\n\"That would be my guess. They cannibalize whenever there's no other choice.\"\n\nPanic widened her eyes. \"And there's five of them in this cemetery, which is closed off from the rest of the town. They don't appear to be lacking for food.\"\n\nI nodded. \"For ghouls, they looked quite healthy, if one can measure such a thing, which means a lot of people have come into this cemetery on a fairly regular basis.\"\n\n\"My father?\" She closed her eyes and clenched tight fists.\n\n\"He's a Hunter with intellect. There's a good chance he found a way to escape.\"\n\n\"I hope so.\"\n\n\"Sometimes, hope is all we have.\"\n\nOutside the scraping stone sound echoed again.\n\n\"What is that?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'm not sure. Your father and I heard it earlier.\"\n\n\"You didn't see what made it?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"We should help your father down and find where that vampire is. It's obvious he wasn't in here.\"\n\n\"What if there isn't a vampire in this cemetery?\" I asked.\n\n\"You don't think there is?\"\n\n\"I'm not certain, but I'm beginning to wonder.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"The whole place seems like a giant trap,\" I replied.\n\n\"For what purpose?\"\n\n\"I don't know, but these ghouls patrolled the cemetery. The thorny giant vines make a quick escape almost impossible.\"\n\n\"Are you proposing that we leave without looking for the vampire?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"No, we need to collect the bounty if he is here. A quick search should tell us.\"\n\nI scooped up a huge pile of leaves in my arms and covered the lid of the coffin.\n\n\"What are you doing?\"\n\nI grabbed another armful of leaves and piled them around the coffin. \"Roasting the ghouls.\"\n\n\"That will work?\"\n\n\"It won't hurt to try. With enough leaves burning around the stone coffin, it will be like a brick oven, magnifying and trapping the heat inside. They should cook.\"\n\n\"Provided they don't escape?\"\n\n\"They fear fire. Even if they slid the lid over a little, they'd see the flames and scrunch away into a corner. But I don't think they have the strength to move the lid.\"\n\nPenelope gathered a lot of the leaves and piled them on top of the lid. When the leaves completely covered the coffin, I struck a long match against the stone wall and lit leaves at each corner of the coffin.\n\nThe fire rose.\n\nI grabbed my crossbow and walked to the door with her. Once we stepped outside the door, I yanked the small iron gate back into place. The latch clicked shut. I picked up a thick piece of iron that had fallen from the overhead fence and bent it around the small gate and the bar where the latch had been welded. Even if the ghouls survived the fire and pried the lid off the coffin, they'd never get through the gate.\n\nThe stone-scraping sounds reverberated again, only faster and closer. She and I exchanged glances.\n\n\"Forrest!\" Father yelled. \"Come quick! I need your help!\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Sixteen\n\nPenelope and I came up the steps to discover what was making the sounds. She limped slightly.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'll be fine.\"\n\n\"You hurt yourself coming off the roof?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No, it was when I tripped and fell earlier, but dropping from the roof didn't help it any.\"\n\nThe rough scraping sounds came from near the crypt where Father was. At first I didn't see what was making the noise, until I saw what appeared to be large statues moving, but they weren't statues at all. They were living creatures made out of stone.\n\nThree gargoyles.\n\nThere was that moment of disbelief when I questioned if I was walking in a nightmare. Seeing these things made me stand silent. Captivated, I found myself admiring how these gargoyles moved effortlessly, being as heavy as they had to be.\n\nPenelope placed her hand on mine. \"When I said that I sensed evil earlier, it wasn't the ghouls but it definitely is associated with them.\"\n\nThe stone creatures were half my size but probably four times my weight. Each step or movement they made produced a stone-raking-stone sound. Their wings rose and shifted as they walked, helping them keep their balance. Due to their weight and size, they weren't fast movers. At least they didn't seem to be.\n\nFather edged himself higher on the roof until he noticed us. He waved us toward him with desperation.\n\nAll three gargoyles were slate gray like the tombstones and the crypt buildings. They had noticed Father and were approaching his building.\n\nI glanced at Penelope. \"What do you know about gargoyles?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"Only that they're not supposed to be alive.\"\n\n\"These apparently are.\"\n\n\"I see that, too.\"\n\n\"How do you kill something made from stone?\"\n\n\"You cannot kill stone since it isn't alive.\"\n\nGood point. \"But something has brought them to life.\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Some type of magic or they might actually be demons trapped inside the stones.\"\n\n\"Then these are more your type for slaying rather than mine.\"\n\n\"No, I'm seeing them for the first time like you.\"\n\nFather glared at me. \"You two going to stand there and gawk or help me down before they kill me?\"\n\n\"Be patient, Father. They are stiff and slow and barely moving. You're probably safer being on the roof than for us to get you down.\"\n\nThe smallest gargoyle squatted, stretched its wings, and propelled itself into the air. It landed with a thunderous crash on the rooftop not far from where Father stood. The vibrations from its landing caused Father to stumble. He grabbed the ledge and peered back at its demonic face.\n\nI was stunned. These stone creatures had seemed sluggish, and I had underestimated their agility and speed.\n\n\"Do you mind mulling through your theory again, son?\" he said. \"Don't take too long thinking about it because this thing is going to flatten me.\"\n\nFather edged his way to the corner of the roof. He was about to jump. I can't say that I blamed him, but doing so would probably kill him.\n\nI ran toward the building. The other two gargoyles noticed me and stamped their feet in rapid succession, making an incredibly loud noise while shaking the ground. If their actions were meant to frighten me, they were partly successful. However, I was more frightened about Father jumping and killing himself than I was for what danger I was placing myself into to rescue him.\n\n\"Hold on!\" I said.\n\nHe made an odd face. \"To what exactly?\"\n\n\"Patience,\" I replied, rushing toward the side of the crypt.\n\n\"She left me about five minutes ago, son. Don't think she's coming back anytime soon, either.\"\n\n\"Jump!\"\n\nFather looked at me questionably. I still wasn't quite close enough to catch him, but by my estimate I'd be under him before he reached the ground. He glanced over his shoulder. The gargoyle wobbled in its gait toward him. It widened its muscular stone arms like it wanted to hug him, but he and I both knew it was going to embrace him and crush him to death.\n\nHe jumped.\n\nI caught him with both arms as I ran. I didn't stop running, trying to put as much distance between them and I as I could.\n\n\"Forr\u2014rrest!\" Penelope said.\n\nThe two gargoyles that had been stamping their feet were flying overhead. While I was not completely certain, it seemed they had been ramping up speed to get into the air. They weren't after me though. They were circling over her.\n\nShe hobbled and winced with each step. She had twisted her ankle worse than she had let on. One of the gargoyles swooped downward. She dove toward a tall obelisk gravestone and flung her arms over her face. The gargoyle dipped and careened, trying to miss the pointed tombstone, but the tip pierced through its thin stone wing, cracking it. The slight splintering cracks didn't shatter the wing but caused the beast to tug the wing inward, and it dropped hard to its side.\n\nIts heavy impact sank the creature several inches into the ground. It pushed with its massive left stone hand to lift itself, but only rocked back and forth like a tortoise stuck on its back. It appeared it needed both hands to upright itself, but its weight was pinning down its other arm.\n\nPenelope pulled herself to her feet and placed her back against the tombstone. The grounded gargoyle snorted and puffed like an angry bull, still trying to right itself to get at her. The one in the air circled and was in a downward glide, coming straight at her.\n\n\"Go help her, son,\" Father said. \"I'll hide behind a tree since I don't have any idea how to fight something like that.\"\n\nI put him down. \"I don't know either.\"\n\n\"Well, one of us better come up with something or we're all dead.\"\n\nPenelope watched the gliding gargoyle. With her back pressed against the tombstone, she clung to it, watching\u2014I supposed\u2014to see what it was going to do. While she stood there, I ran back toward the crossroads.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Father shouted.\n\nI sprinted to the dark robed statue and leaned down to pick up the stone scythe. The weapon was heavy, almost too heavy for me to get my fingers beneath it and pry it off the ground. After I lifted it and wrapped my arms around the section where the curved blade attached to the handle, I drug it down the road toward Penelope.\n\nThe gargoyle widened its wings and circled around, gliding in at a lower descent the second time. The clawed toes on its feet spread out and lengthened.\n\n\"Run, Penelope,\" I said, huffing. I hefted the scythe and leaned forward, pressing each step firmly down and pushing off with my feet.\n\nPenelope glanced toward me and then looked at the gargoyle. It descended fast. I kept rushing toward her, but at the speed it was dropping, if she waited any longer, she was dead.\n\nThe gargoyle aimed at her with its feet, but she rolled out of the way. The winged beast snorted, tried to pull itself upward, but due to its weight, it crashed to the ground. It maintained its balance after running a few steps and turned.\n\nPenelope crawled toward me. I ran past her, lifting the long scythe and propping it against my shoulder. The gargoyle stood about ten feet in height. It turned toward me, sensing my approach. Its hideous bat-like face contorted. Orange flames blazed behind its eyes. Even with my weapon in hand, the creature held no obvious fear of me. I brought down the scythe and balanced it in both hands, and then I swung my entire body around to get the most momentum for the stone weapon as I could. It didn't help.\n\nThe long curved blade made of stone, cracked and crumbled when it struck the gargoyle. It hissed and stomped its way toward me. The ground shook beneath my feet. I took a step back when it lunged to grip me with both of its huge clawed hands. Wrapping the stone handle in my arms, I used it like one would use a battering ram against a door, and struck the creature in the center of the chest. A gurgling sound echoed inside its throat that I assumed could be nothing other than sheer laughter.\n\nI tried to back away, but it grasped the stone handle in its thick hands and yanked. I released the handle or otherwise, it would have pulled me into its reach. It slammed the handle on the ground and it shattered into a dozen pieces. I examined the fragments, but nothing seemed useful enough a weapon for me to claim.\n\n\"Forrest,\" Penelope said in a nervous whisper. \"The other one is approaching.\"\n\nSo we had two gargoyles approaching and neither she nor I had weapons to defend ourselves. The third gargoyle continued struggling on the ground, trying to roll free of the small crater it had created when it had crashed to the ground.\n\n\"Any suggestions?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'd say run, but we're limited to where.\"\n\nI nodded and picked up a stone fragment from the handle. I lobbed it hard at the bat-faced gargoyle in front of me. The fragment struck and disintegrated into a puff of dust. The creature's brow tightened and its mouth widened, revealing a double row of teeth set inside its jaws.\n\nI had seen gargoyles atop buildings in many of the countries I had traveled through. Each one was crafted with unique faces, resembling what the artist believed a demon might look like. These were no different, except they were alive. Gargoyles were believed to be guardians to frighten off evil spirits, but these seemed to be possessed by some unseen power, and not one I believed to befriend or protect humans from.\n\nThe gargoyle hissed, flexed its massive wings, and rushed toward me. I attempted to step to the side, but it caught my arm. As heavy as these creatures were, I never anticipated one rushing that fast toward me. It held me firmly in its tight painful grip.\n\n\"Forrest!\" Penelope exclaimed, covering her mouth with her hand.\n\nI gripped the creature's thick stone finger and tried to pry them apart or at least loosen its grip, but I didn't possess enough strength. I pulled back and placed my feet against its chest, pushing and pulling and yanking. Nope. It had me.\n\nIt leaned closer, pressing its face to mine. It snorted and chuffed with breath like brimstone. With its free hand it wrapped its fingers around my throat and tightened. Immediately I couldn't breathe. It had cut off my windpipe and if it tightened anymore, it could pop my head from my shoulders.\n\nThe world was growing dim. Blackness was covering my vision. In desperation, I swung a hard fist into its face, not certain where the strike might land, but I wasn't going to die without at least trying to fight.\n\nI hit its nose. It leveled a harsh frown. Those eyes blazed with angry flames. Penelope had picked up part of the scythe blade that still had a curved edge and she slashed at its stone wings. Its eyes widened and it turned toward her. The distraction was enough for it to loosen its grip, but it didn't release me. I took several deep breaths.\n\nMy ears rang, but faintly I heard stone striking stone. She was still trying to do some sort of damage to the gargoyle but from my angle I couldn't tell if she was having any success.\n\nI placed one hand on the forefinger of the beast and the other on its thumb. Using all the strength I had, I couldn't pull his fingers any wider apart. Penelope groaned and grunted, striking the winged beast over and over, making a dull thwacking noise with each hit. She didn't seem to be hurting it any, but she was annoying the hell out of it.\n\nIt formed a fist with its free hand and swung around hard and fast. Its fist narrowly missed her, but its long draping wings sliced through the air toward her. She fell backwards, crashing to the ground. If she had waited another second, it would have removed her head from her shoulders. It turned and tried to stomp her. While on her back, she used her elbows and pushed with her feet to crawl awkwardly away, just barely keeping herself outside of its reach. Panic and helplessness claimed her face.\n\nIt swung to the side, using the long trail of its wing to strike at her. For a stone creature it definitely held unpredictable tactics. She kept crawling, scooting away, but the gargoyle refused to allow her escape. It stomped one foot after the other, trying to flatten her, but fortunately she stayed one step ahead of it.\n\nWith my fist I struck the side of the gargoyle's face again and again. My flailing went unnoticed by the creature as its determination to kill her controlled it. It clutched me closer to its chest without any thought that it was still holding me. I reached for the chiseled crevices between its chest and neck, hoping to find a handhold to get more leverage and pry myself free.\n\nMy fingers caught in a small narrow groove of the stone chain that was carved around its neck. I grabbed hold, pulled, and one of the links cracked and fell loose. A gem about the size of my fist glowed inside the hole. I struck my fist against the opening several times. Bits of dust and rock chunks cascaded from the opening. I hit the gem once more and it slipped from the opening and landed on the ground.\n\nIt craned its neck around and peered at me. Its mouth widened momentarily, revealing its large teeth. A deep intake of air rushed through its mouth. I anticipated a nasty roar or growl, but instead, the creature dismantled at every joint, dropping to the ground in a series of pieces. The fingers clamped around my neck released me and dropped at my feet.\n\nI rubbed my neck and gulped air. When most of the dizziness passed, I walked to Penelope. I offered my hand and helped her to her feet.\n\n\"What happened to it?\" she asked.\n\nI shook my head. \"When I dislodged that gem, it fell apart.\"\n\nShe brushed herself off.\n\nGlancing around, I said, \"Where's the other one?\"\n\nShe shrugged and frowned, gazing across the cemetery. \"I don't know. How can something that large move so quickly?\"\n\n\"I have no idea.\"\n\nI took the piece of scythe from her and hurried to the gargoyle still stuck on the ground. I walked around so I could see its face. It snarled and swiped at me with its clawed hand but I remained outside of its reach. A chain necklace wrapped around its neck, too.\n\nFather picked up the glowing yellow gem from the disassembled gargoyle and rejoined us. I was trying to get past the gargoyles claws to strike the necklace on its chest. \"Careful, Forrest.\"\n\n\"Did you see where the other gargoyle went?\" I asked.\n\n\"No.\" A winged shadow passed overhead. He looked to the sky. \"Ah, it's in the air.\"\n\nI stepped toward the angered gargoyle and waited for it to swing at me. After it did, I lunged inward and struck the necklace hard. The chain cracked but held in place, not allowing me to dislodge the gem. I shook my head in frustration. I glanced toward Penelope and Father. \"I don't think this one's getting up anytime soon. While the other one is in flight, we should at least examine the other two crypts for the vampire.\"\n\nFather nodded. \"And then what?\"\n\n\"We head out through the passageway. I can't see how this can get much worse.\"\n\n\"Hunter!\" the deep voice beckoned from near the large angelic statue. It was Philip. Another person stood beside him. Philip shoved the man to his knees and placed a knife to the man's throat. \"Your coachman refuses to tell me where the child is. Tell me where the boy is and your coachman lives.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Seventeen\n\n\"Don't tell him, Forrest,\" Thomas said in a solemn tone. \"You know my destiny. And we're already running behind schedule.\"\n\nI glanced at my watch. It was after eleven a.m. I had never intended to spend this much time at the cemetery. Of course, when you're fighting to survive, time escapes at a rapid pace, not exactly begging one's attention.\n\n\"Is this what you've been reduced to, Philip?\" I asked. \"Blackmail and killing innocent people? That's not the true heart of a Hunter.\"\n\nBlood dripped from Philip's arm that hung to his side. His fatigued face revealed that he had been injured. By the thorns? Had Philip been the one who had cried out from inside the passageway? He blinked hard and shook his head for several seconds. I wondered if his vision was blurred. He staggered slightly, found his balance, and pressed the dagger against Thomas' neck. Thomas stiffened. The whites of his eyes revealed his fear of death. Regardless of the coachman's bravery, he didn't really want to die.\n\nPhilip glared at me. His scars seemed more prominent than before. He spoke through gritted teeth. \"To save humanity from that child's eventual wrath, I'll do whatever's necessary.\"\n\n\"Hunters don't kill Hunters.\" I walked toward him, placing my hand on my dagger.\n\n\"Forrest!\" Father said in a harsh whisper. \"Just tell him where Varak is. Let's be done with this.\"\n\nI frowned at him and shook my head. Penelope seemed to agree with Father and nodded toward me with pleading eyes. The child had even made her uneasy.\n\nThe darkness in Philip's gaze consumed him. He was beyond reason. He might have been a good Hunter at one time in his life, but his obsession to kill Varak was akin to pure hate-filled evil. That's when I wondered if he truly wanted to kill the child, or did he have an ulterior motive? Did he want to use the child to gain power and influence over others, which was something else that went against a Hunter's credo?\n\nMy mind had sorted through a lot of issues during the past few weeks. I held no doubt that killing undead creatures might eventually tarnish a good Hunter's soul. But what if more than that had occurred with Philip? What if a Hunter killed an insane vampire that had been without any rationality at all? Hunters absorbed a good portion of a vampire's memories without any assurance that the memory impressions received would benefit the Hunter. Was it possible to absorb the madness of a mentally disturbed vampire and those mental persuasions overrode the rationality and competency an adept Hunter once had?\n\nDominus had probably killed as many vampires as Philip, possibly even more, but had shown none of the alterations Philip was exhibiting. Although I had no way to know, I had to assume at this particular moment that Philip was being controlled by something other than what we Hunters claimed our allegiance to.\n\nThomas had done nothing to provoke Philip, and yet the Hunter held a knife at the coachman's throat. Even if I agreed with Father and wanted to get rid of the child, Philip wouldn't be the one I'd hand him over to. I wasn't sure what he'd do.\n\n\"What's your answer, Hunter?\" Philip asked.\n\nBefore I could reply, the gargoyle swooped down from behind Philip and thrashed its talons into the Hunter's back, knocking him forward before yanking him upward. Thomas dove aside, rolled, and slowly rose to his feet, uncertain of what had happened. Once he realized he had been spared, he hurried to us.\n\nThe gargoyle arced its wings slightly to the right in an attempt to miss an oversized tombstone, but with the added weight of the Hunter, it failed to rise any higher. Instead, it dropped Philip near the robed statue at the crossroads and landed abruptly on the other side of him.\n\nThe Hunter rolled several times and when he stopped, he wasn't conscious, but for a few moments, I thought he was dead. The gargoyle turned. Its heavy feet thudded as it walked. Its interest was keenly directed at the unmoving Hunter.\n\nEven with all the threats Philip had made, I couldn't allow his fate to end here, but the four of us weren't a match against this gargoyle. It had been sheer luck that I had found a way to destroy the other one.\n\nI glanced at Thomas. \"Are you okay?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"We can't allow it to kill Philip,\" I said, looking at Father and Penelope.\n\nFather gave me a perplexed stare. \"You cannot be serious?\"\n\n\"He's a fellow Hunter,\" I replied.\n\n\"One who wishes to kill all of us,\" Father said. \"Especially you, I might add.\"\n\n\"I'm aware of that.\"\n\n\"What do you propose?\" she asked.\n\n\"Distract the gargoyle. Thomas and I will pull Philip to safety.\"\n\nThomas shook his head. \"I will do no such thing, Forrest. This madman dragged me through the most horrible tunnel and put a knife to my throat. I'd rather face the plague demons Albert has sent after me than to offer any aid to that man.\"\n\nI shrugged. \"I can't say I blame you.\"\n\nPenelope threw a fist-sized rock and hit the gargoyle in the back of the head. It stopped its approach toward the Hunter and craned its neck around. The next rock struck its flat nose, exploding into a cloud of dust. It growled, widening its mouth, and flexed its wings while forming huge fists.\n\nThe gargoyle roared and marched toward her with heavy steps. She took several steps backwards and winced each time she put her right foot down. Father wrapped his arm with hers to keep her from having to place her weight upon her weak ankle.\n\n\"We distracted it, Forrest,\" Father said. \"I have no idea what you plan to do, but you need to do something fast.\"\n\nThe stone creature's face contorted with the most evil hideous expressions I've ever seen. It hurried toward Father and Penelope, neither of which were able to outrun it.\n\nWhat had I been thinking?\n\nI hadn't been. I had been reacting without considering they were placing their lives into jeopardy to spare the Hunter.\n\nFather hobbled, using what strength he could offer to help support her weight. They moved across the leafier section of the cemetery, but the gargoyle didn't even need to rush to shorten the distance between them.\n\nShe and Father were nearing one of the crypts, but not quickly enough. The gargoyle bellowed deeply, something that sounded like a note of triumph mixed with rolling laughter. It kicked a large swath of leaves out of its path as it strode closer. The ground shook slightly from its awkward steps.\n\nI scanned the area around me, trying to figure out what I could use for a weapon. The stone scythe hadn't helped earlier with the other gargoyle, and if a gem kept this one together like the other one, I knew I'd never survive a hand-to-hand fight with it. One stern punch from it would prove fatal.\n\nFather and Penelope reached the wall of the crypt and turned to look at me. The gargoyle's right foot stomped hard on the top of a leaf-covered grave. Its enormous weight crushed through the grave plot and sunk. The creature toppled forward and landed facedown. Its huge wings fanned with fury, and it pushed with its hands to stand, but due to its excessive mass it appeared to be unable to get up.\n\nI motioned them to keep moving, and I ran toward the angelic statue, found the large stone book on the ground and picked it up. While she and Father hurried farther away from the gargoyle, I carried the book and walked upon the gargoyle's back between its wings. It fought to pry its foot free from the sinkhole but it was wedged tightly in the ground. I lifted the book over my head and brought it down, hammering the top of its head.\n\nIt roared, shuffling its wings, rocking back and forth. I almost lost my balance, but I brought up the book and struck its head again and again. The solid stone book chiseled at the back of its head, chipping away bits of the skull until larger fractures appeared. Several more hammered thrusts dislodged thick hand-sized chunks of stone. I kept striking and expected the stone book to shatter, but it didn't. After finally busting its head to pieces, the creature stopped moving altogether.\n\nI dropped the heavy book and sighed. My shoulders slumped. I lowered myself and sat upon the gargoyle's back, panting. Aches ran through my body. Every abrasion, bruise, and cut magnified, but at least we were all alive.\n\nFather and Penelope limped to me.\n\nThomas came up and patted my shoulder, smiling.\n\n\"After I catch my breath,\" I said. \"I'll crush the other gargoyle.\"\n\nFather looked at me with a sense of pride and smiled. Penelope leaned her head against my chest and wrapped her arms around me. Enjoying her warmth and closeness, I embraced her, resting my chin atop her head.\n\n\"Thomas,\" I said. \"See if you can dislodge the gem on this beast's chest.\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n***\n\nAfter several minutes of holding Penelope and catching my breath, I slipped away, took the book, and decapitated the other gargoyle. We collected the three large gems that had somehow functioned like their hearts and placed them inside her pack. A search of the other two crypts proved fruitless.\n\nNo vampire.\n\nFather frowned with disgust and leaned his back against the crypt wall. \"No vampire? So why the ruse of offering a reward? Nothing but undead creatures and gargoyles.\"\n\nI walked to where Philip lay unconscious on the ground. Blood leaked from his nose and mouth. His back had been flayed open where the gargoyle's huge talons had slashed into him, but if he were like me, I expected he'd heal fast and survive. He still had not awakened. With how he had been staggering and shaking his head before the gargoyle attacked him, I wondered if the thorns that had snagged him were also poisonous.\n\n\"What do we do with him?\" Penelope asked.\n\nI shrugged. \"He's breathing but there isn't any way we can carry him through the thorny passageway. It was difficult enough keeping our own awareness of our surroundings.\"\n\nThomas nodded. \"I thought I was going to die in that tunnel. I almost did. The vines lashed out at us but I managed to avoid them. One vine wrapped around his arm and tried to pull him into them.\"\n\n\"That's why his arm is bleeding?\"\n\n\"Yes. I made it to the end of the tunnel, but he somehow freed himself and caught up to me before I stepped into the cemetery.\"\n\nI knelt beside the Hunter and examined his wrists. Dark bruises encircled them from where I had restrained him with the ropes. As raw as his skin was and the deepness of the surrounding bruising, he must had fought against the tight ropes until he finally broke free. But he wasn't healing.\n\n\"If you leave him here, son, he's going to keep coming for you.\"\n\nI flicked my gaze toward him. His haunted expression detailed his concern for my wellbeing. \"I don't know about that. None of his previous injuries are healing, and I think the vines must have poisoned or weakened him. I'm not going to kill him, but I don't have any rope to tie him, either.\"\n\nPenelope fished through her pack until she brought out a tied bundle of rope. \"I do.\"\n\nShe handed me the rope. Father shook his head. \"Let me do it this time, son. I can guarantee he won't get free of my knots. I've worked on ships before you were born. A sailor has to learn a vast variations of knots.\"\n\nI handed him the rope and chuckled. \"We don't want him to lie here and starve to death.\"\n\nFather brought the Hunter's huge hands around behind his back. He frowned. \"I don't want him killing you, either. If you still refuse to hand over the child, he's not going to give up his pursuit.\"\n\n\"He's right, Forrest,\" Penelope said.\n\n\"None of us can predict the future. We don't actually know what Varak will become, but I'm not certain this Hunter has been telling us the truth.\"\n\n\"Why do you say that?\" she asked.\n\n\"It's just a feeling that came over me when he threatened to kill Thomas.\"\n\n\"Hunter instinct?\" Father asked.\n\n\"Could be,\" I said with a shrug.\n\nFather finished tying the knots and strained to stand. I extended my hand toward him, he took it, and I pulled him to his feet. He shook his head. \"I can't believe there wasn't a vampire here.\"\n\n\"Other than us digging up the graves, we've checked all the possible places. But if the vampire was actually in the ground, the dirt on the surface would be fresh and loose. No new graves have been dug here in a long time.\"\n\nThomas nodded.\n\n\"So no bounty?\" Father said with disappointment.\n\nI smiled. \"We have the gems from the gargoyles. I say we return to that shop and find out what's really happening.\"\n\n\"You think they'll buy these gems?\" he asked.\n\n\"I don't believe they expect us to return.\" I grabbed my Hunter box and my crossbow.\n\nPenelope picked up her father's hat and held it close to her chest while she scanned the cemetery one last time. Her eyes didn't moisten with tears, but her jaw tightened with determination. The bright sparkles in her eyes were ablaze. She glanced toward me with a slight smile, reaching for my hand. I took it and we walked side by side to the tunnel entrance. We each had a lot of burning questions that we intended to find the answers for.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Eighteen\n\nThe four of us made our way through the tunnel unscathed. The oddest thing about our exit was how the thorny vines retreated from us. Some of the climbers had wilted. Shed thorns had fallen to the path as well like leaves after the first frost. The large magical vine seemed to be dying. The whispering sounds that had plagued my mind before were now silent.\n\nFather wore his anger on his face. He didn't have to verbally express why he was angry. It had to do with the fake bounty when he knew we needed the funds for traveling. He had been that way when I was growing up. If ever he was shorted in a trade that was when he grew the most hostile. He pinched pennies, but when you lived in a war-torn country that's under government oppression, you kept a watchful eye over every single cent because it was necessary to survive. A thief was a chief enemy, regardless of the sum he had stolen.\n\nFather's hostility finally got the better of him. \"Why would they do this, Forrest?\"\n\n\"They are the only ones who can tell us the exact reason for what they've done. But my speculation is that they were sending gullible bounty hunters to feed the gargoyles and ghouls. And if that's the case, I don't understand why they'd do that.\"\n\n\"It could explain why all the people on the outskirts have vanished,\" Penelope said.\n\nThe wind whipped and whistled through the trees as we passed beneath them. Our coach was within sight. A man dressed in a drab suit stood admiring the horse. Unlike the others we had met in this rundown section of town, he appeared to have better fortune and possibly a fair amount of money.\n\n\"Can I help you?\" I asked when we came closer.\n\nHe turned with a start and his eyes widened for a moment. \"Ah, I am looking over this fine horse and coach. The elderly couple at the shop across the square offered to sell them to me at such a reasonable price. How old would you say this horse is?\"\n\nThomas stepped to the horse, placed a hand on the bridle, and glared at the stranger. \"This horse is not for sale, sir. Neither is the coach.\"\n\nThe man was taken back. \"They clearly expressed that it is and so is the coach. Don't attempt to move in and swoop up the offer.\"\n\n\"The couple is mistaken,\" I said. \"The horse and coach belong to this man. We've traveled with him for weeks.\"\n\nThe man turned with a fierce glare. \"What scheme are the lot of you working here? They suggested the price, and I shall meet their offer.\"\n\n\"They cannot sale what they do not rightfully own,\" I said, stepping up to the man and staring down at him.\n\nHe studied me for a few minutes and took a couple of steps back. \"Then why would they make such an offer?\"\n\n\"They're deceitful people,\" Father said.\n\n\"If there's any schemes, it's been on their part. We plan to find out what they're doing,\" I said. \"I suggest you move along.\"\n\nHe opened his mouth to reply but noticed my harsh frown and nodded, turning quickly away.\n\nI placed my Hunter box inside the coach and loaded the crossbow. Father stood beside me with a look of concern. \"Father, stay here with Thomas. Penelope and I will go to the shop.\"\n\n\"Stay? But I want to go with you.\"\n\n\"Thomas might need your help in case that man comes back.\"\n\n\"It's doubtful he'll return. You scared him quite good. I think I should accompany the two of you. I want answers.\"\n\n\"We all do.\"\n\n\"But we put our lives on the line and were betrayed.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nFather shook his head with a scoured expression on his face. \"Very well, but if you're not back in a quarter of the hour, I'm coming to make certain the two of you are okay.\"\n\nI smiled.\n\nPenelope placed her father's Hunter hat upon her head and grinned. Her long wavy hair flowed to her shoulders and some strands covered her eyes.\n\n\"Suits you,\" I said, brushing her hair from her eyes.\n\nShe wrapped her right arm around my left and pressed against me to keep weight off her hurt ankle while we walked. \"Is your father always so overly concerned about you like that?\"\n\nI offered a shrug and chuckled. \"He's my father.\"\n\n\"He treats you like a little child sometimes.\"\n\nI could only nod.\n\nShe shook her head. \"My father sent me into the dark woods to hunt by myself when I was ten years old. He taught me to be independent and allowed me to work out my problems, not that you're not independent or\u2014\"\n\nI smiled down at her. \"We lost Momma not even a year ago. He has a difficult time ... letting go.\"\n\nSadness came to her eyes, and she looked at the cobblestone. \"I'm sorry, but I didn't mean you're not independent.\"\n\n\"It's okay. I understand what you were trying to say.\"\n\n\"You've been quite resourceful in keeping us alive,\" she said with a broad smile.\n\nI squeezed her hand.\n\nOnce we reached the outside of the shop, I pulled the three gems from her pack and dropped them inside my coat pocket. I turned the doorknob with my left hand and held the crossbow to my side so it wasn't noticeable when we first entered.\n\nThe door hinges creaked as the door widened. Karl looked up from what he was working on at the counter. His wrinkled brow rose, and he adjusted his glasses, looking again in sheer disbelief. He glanced toward his wife who was sewing a piece of cloth to a quilt. \"Abigail, we have company.\"\n\n\"Who?\" she asked with a near growl.\n\n\"The Hunter,\" he said nervously.\n\n\"Which Hunter?\"\n\nHe whispered, \"The one who was here earlier.\"\n\n\"I told you something was wrong,\" she said in a stern whisper.\n\nKarl forced a smile in an attempt to hide his nervousness. \"Can we sell you more wares? Or\u2014\"\n\nI leveled the crossbow and aimed at his head, walking straight for him. \"No, we want to know why you sent us after a vampire that doesn't exist.\"\n\nHis face reddened. Sweat beaded his brow. His feeble hands shook. \"Whatever do you mean?\"\n\n\"You offered us a bounty to kill a vampire in the local cemetery, remember? No vampire was there,\" I said.\n\n\"Maybe you didn't follow the map's directions properly,\" Abigail said with a harsh scratchy voice. She coughed up phlegm and spit on the floor. \"Do you even know what a cemetery is?\"\n\n\"We followed the directions perfectly,\" Penelope said, raising her bow at the woman. She studied the old woman more closely than the previous time we had visited.\n\n\"How dare you raise a weapon at me!\" the old woman hissed. \"Come into our shop, threatening our lives. It's not our fault you probably got lost, or perhaps you're both seeking money without actually having to kill a vampire. We've had cowards do that before.\"\n\n\"How long have you been deceiving folks and sending them to their deaths?\" I asked. \"How many people have died?\"\n\n\"You know not whom you're messing with,\" Abigail said, rising from her chair and pointing her crooked finger at me. Her voice strained. \"Be on your way before you soon find out.\"\n\nKarl became uncomfortable, swallowed hard, and tugged at his shirt collar.\n\nI balanced the crossbow and placed my finger on the trigger. \"Why did you offer to sell our horse and coach to a man?\"\n\nKarl paled. Sweat beads trickled down his aged brow.\n\nMy jaw tightened and I took a step closer. \"You didn't expect to see us return, did you?\"\n\nHis Adam's apple bulged. His breath grew more ragged.\n\n\"And what about the bow I'm holding? The man who crafted it was an acquaintance of mine. He builds weapons for Vampire Hunters. The only way you'd have this weapon is if that Hunter is dead. We Hunters never part with any weapon Roy makes for us. True justice for the Hunter would be for me to pull the trigger and fire an arrow through your head. That'd square up the deal nicely.\"\n\nKarl shook his head. His trembling hands slammed onto the countertop, so he wouldn't fall.\n\n\"I've warned you Hunter,\" Abigail said. \"Put down your weapon or your doom falls upon you.\"\n\nI chuckled. I didn't know why the threat coming from a tiny bent woman had seemed so funny, but I suddenly burst into laughter.\n\n\"Only fools laugh before their demise,\" she said. \"And you're an enormous fool.\"\n\nI stood across the counter from him, reached into my pocket, and brought out the three gems, setting them on the counter. Karl looked at them and his eyes narrowed. He glanced toward his wife. \"He killed them.\"\n\nAbigail stepped out from behind the quilting table. Her eyes fastened upon the gems. \"What?\"\n\n\"He killed the protectors.\" Karl's voice still sounded old and weary, but it flowed with a tinge of surprise and hope.\n\n\"How?\" she asked.\n\nI glanced toward her. \"We were at the cemetery, as you now can see.\"\n\n\"You will suffer for this, Hunter,\" she said with a scowl.\n\n\"Like the other victims?\"\n\n\"Worse.\"\n\n\"How could you betray Hunters who are trying to protect cities and villages from the undead scourge?\" I asked. I raised the crossbow and turned toward Abigail.\n\nPenelope tapped the hat on her head. \"What became of my father?\"\n\nAn odd smile curled on Abigail's lips. She flashed her teeth. \"Like the two of you, he managed to escape the cemetery.\"\n\n\"Did you kill him?\" she asked, pulling the bowstring back.\n\nThe old woman sneered. \"And what if I\u2014\"\n\nKarl shook his head and waved his hands, stepping between Abigail and Penelope. \"No. No, we didn't. He headed south. Please, don't shoot her.\"\n\n\"Don't grovel like a whiny little child, Karl. Show some backbone. The charade's over. They've no doubt discovered the ghouls and fled.\"\n\n\"The ghouls are dead,\" I said. \"We killed them.\"\n\n\"You lie!\"\n\nI smiled evenly. \"We stuffed them inside a coffin and roasted them.\"\n\nThe old woman's eyes hollowed. Her face drew slack. Her lower jaw trembled and her mouth moved but no words came out.\n\nI grabbed Karl by the collar and yanked him toward me. \"It was all one big trap, wasn't it? Lure in Hunters or your own neighbors to collect a bounty for a vampire that didn't exist, just so you can feed the ghouls and gargoyles?\"\n\n\"My children,\" Abigail said in a pitiful small voice. Her eyes were vacant. \"You killed my children.\"\n\n\"They were ghouls,\" Penelope replied.\n\nKarl's eyes moistened with tears. \"Yes, now. But once they had been Abigail's children before ghouls infected them during the last war. She couldn't kill them, even though they had become these vile creatures, but she ... we couldn't keep them in our home, you understand. They'd have infected us, too. But we couldn't let them roam the streets. There'd be a mass infestation within a few weeks. So we bound them to the cemetery, gave them protectors\u2014\"\n\n\"But they needed food,\" I said. \"So you set an elegant trap to snare unsuspecting humans and Hunters?\"\n\n\"Yes-s-s,\" Abigail said. Her eyes darkened and shifted toward us.\n\n\"Forrest,\" Penelope said. \"Maybe we should work our way back toward the door?\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Just a feeling,\" she said, scrunching her nose.\n\n\"What type of feeling?\"\n\n\"I suppose like when you get your instinct premonitions. Please, Forrest, step aside. She's a demon.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Nineteen\n\nThe old woman glanced toward me. Her dark eyes widened. I sensed evil permeating around her, dark and spiteful. Her venomous voice grew raspier. \"You killed my children.\"\n\n\"They were already dead,\" Penelope said, keeping her aim on the old woman. \"Undead.\"\n\n\"The magical thorn barrier. How'd you accomplish that?\" I asked Karl. \"That was part of the snare. Who created it?\"\n\nHis eyes grew fearful. He shook his head.\n\nAbigail pushed herself to Karl's side. \"When it comes to protecting my children, there's no limit to what I'd do.\"\n\nPenelope lowered her bow and tugged my coat.\n\n\"What?\" I said, glancing over my shoulder.\n\n\"Maybe you should step back now?\" she said. \"Since I'm the Demon-hunter.\"\n\n\"She doesn't look like a\u2014\"\n\nAbigail's skin tightened on her face, splitting at her scalp and around her nose and ears. The illusion of what had been an old woman was actually something far worse. Her tongue lengthened, quite like a ghoul, but her eyes flickered like hot molten metal. She peeled her skin from her face, revealing scaly green skin like a snake.\n\n\"How?\" I asked. My curiosity mesmerized me. I knew about shifters and Were creatures, but how did a woman become a demon?\n\nKarl's eyes pleaded for help. \"It wasn't my doing, Hunter. She's the one. I didn't have a choice.\"\n\n\"Forrest, move!\" Penelope shouted.\n\nI stepped back and tried to pull Karl with me, but the demon wrapped her arms around him. Her strange tongue darted out and licked the side of his face, leaving a slick trail of viscous drool. She opened her mouth, revealing her jagged teeth and reared her head back. She was going to bite his throat. The old man trembled, closed his eyes, and screamed. He tried the wipe the saliva from his face where his skin was blistering.\n\nPenelope fired an arrow, striking the demon in the throat. It rammed its sharply clawed hand through Karl's back before releasing him and spinning around to flee. She clutched at the arrow.\n\nKarl dropped to his knees, wept, and convulsed with pain. Blood soaked through the back of his shirt.\n\nPenelope pulled her dagger and ran after the demon. She chased the demon past the quilting table where it grabbed sharp shears and turned, slashing wildly. Penelope dodged to the side to avoid getting cut. The demon pulled the shears close to its side. Penelope didn't give the demon a chance for another attack. She lopped the dagger through the air, striking dead center of its throat.\n\nBlack blood dripped from its neck. It clutched the hilt, tugged, but failed to pull out the blade. It dropped to its knees. Panting through its open mouth, its eyes bore at her, and gurgling sounds rose in its throat. It uselessly tried to speak, but the dagger and arrow had severed those abilities. Using both hands, it gripped the hilt and slowly extracted the blade. Blood gushed out.\n\nThe demon sat for a few moments longer before dropping facedown on the floor. I kept my bow trained on it, just in case it bolted up to attack again. Some creatures were quite successful at faking their deaths as I had learned once before in a difficult situation. From that day forward, I made certain what I had intended to kill was actually dead before I turned my back on it.\n\nPenelope walked to the demon and picked her dagger up off the floor. After kicking it several times, she joined me as I knelt beside Karl. He jerked in pain. His head tilted upward, and he looked to find me.\n\nI glanced at Penelope. \"How did she turn into a demon?\"\n\n\"She was half demon,\" Karl sputtered. Blood and spittle frothed in his mouth. He wheezed. \"But she had the ability to present herself as either one whenever she wished.\"\n\n\"Half demon?\" I asked. \"Were the ghouls really her children?\"\n\nKarl's eyes dimmed. He was losing blood, but I believed she might have poisoned him with her claws. \"She adopted them, after they became ghouls.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\nHe coughed. More blood dripped from the sides of his mouth. \"For pets.\"\n\n\"And the vampire bounty?\"\n\n\"Her doing. The demon part of her hated humans but loved the undead ghouls. She chose them over our own people. The biggest reason most of this part of the city has vacated wasn't because they had moved away.\" He coughed violently. \"She had beguiled most of them into going to the cemetery.\"\n\n\"What about the thorns?\" I asked.\n\nKarl gasped, taking shallower breaths. \"She foolishly bargained with a greater demon to fashion the vines to captivate humans into sacrificing themselves. I'm surprised you ... got past them. Those ... sacrificed, offered ... blood, not only to her and the plants, but to the greater ... demon she had summoned for ... help.\"\n\nPenelope squatted down. \"Why did you stay with her?\"\n\nKarl opened his eyes. A slight smile showed on his bloody lips. \"It wasn't love or devotion, as you can see. She didn't hesitate to kill me, did she?\"\n\n\"You're not dead yet,\" I said.\n\nHis body spasmed. \"There's nothing capable of mending me. I've lived ... a full life. Not a life of freedom but it does no good to complain at this point. Sorry for the deception. Look ... in the top drawer behind the counter. There's ... money to ... compensate you for ridding my life of her agony and destroying her. It's more money than the faux reward ... covers other bounty, too.\"\n\n\"What about the vampire in the Black Forest?\" I asked. \"Is that a misdirection, too?\"\n\n\"No, Hunter,\" he said weakly. His eyes dimmed, starting to glaze. \"He's very real and quite dangerous. One of the strongest ... masters alive.\"\n\nPenelope leaned closer to him. \"Is my father still alive?\"\n\n\"Last I had heard, yes. He headed south. When he learned of our deceit, he never returned. Peace to you.\" He lowered his head and became still.\n\n\"He's dead,\" she said.\n\nI rose. \"Are you certain the demon is? She didn't dissolve into ash.\"\n\n\"Not all demons do. The plague ones did because the arrows kill the plague, which causes them to self-combust. And she's part human, so\u2014\"\n\nI walked behind the counter and opened the top drawer. Neat stacks of polished gold and silver coins filled half of the drawer. Some were German coins and others French or Spanish. On the coins being worth far more than the bounties offered, Karl had not lied. I found a medium sized drawstring bag and stuck all the coins inside, and then I tied it shut. We now had enough money to travel extensively without worry.\n\nI felt guilty in a way for taking the coins, but since Karl and Abigail had betrayed us, and they were now dead, I didn't consider it robbery by any means. However, I was still bound by the contract, and my honor, to kill the vampire in the Black Forest. Since we'd cut directly through the forest to get to the Archdiocese, it wasn't out of our way.\n\nI dropped the hefty bag of coins into my coat pocket. Penelope knelt beside the demon. It was making odd grunting sounds. Was the demon still alive and had attacked her?\n\nI rushed from behind the counter to where she was. Her arm moved like she was using a handsaw. Before I reached her, she stood and held the demon's head in her hand.\n\n\"The demon is dead,\" she said with a sly grin.\n\n\"You mean that it wasn't?\"\n\n\"You wanted me to make certain.\"\n\nI'd yet met a creature that could survive without its head. Ghouls were an exception; only decapitated ghouls weren't really capable of inflicting much harm to a human, unless the human was foolish enough to pick its body up. The hand of a ghoul was still capable of strangling a person to death, but that required someone placing the hand to his throat. Appendages couldn't hunt for prey and were unnerving to behold.\n\nPenelope chunked the demon head to the floor.\n\n\"So you get no reward for killing that one?\" I asked.\n\n\"It's half human, so the only way I would have been compensated for killing her was if she had a bounty placed on her by another. As far as I know, no one has posted a reward.\"\n\n\"In a way, Karl paid us, but I never knew such a possibility existed where a demon and human produced a child.\"\n\nShe wiped the blood off her dagger on the quilt Abigail had been sewing. \"The child you're protecting is half vampire and half human. If that's possible, why couldn't there be a hybrid between human and demon?\"\n\nShe made a logical point. I had just never considered it.\n\nPenelope smiled. \"In fact, offspring between humans and demons is probably more common than we even know.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Some demons are seductive and easily tempt humans into relationships, at least for a while, until they produce children.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I've heard of exorcisms performed by priests, supposedly the priests cast out demons. But all the demons I've seen have been in physical form. How does a demon possess a human?\"\n\nPenelope sheathed her dagger. \"They can't. Those aren't demons. Those are evil spirits. Huge difference and a dangerous feat to perform. Not my calling or duty. I will never attempt to drive one out.\"\n\nI frowned. \"But priests ... do they really excise them?\"\n\n\"Not like they think they do. Most people who have been possessed die when the evil spirit leaves the body. It rips and tears its way out, causing as much damage as it can. They want to inflict pain. They thrive on it.\"\n\n\"But only priests can do that?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"Priests have the person bound when they begin their exorcisms. It's not because these clergy are holy that the spirits tear out of the human body. Most likely the priest has agitated and annoyed the spirit until its rage can no longer be controlled. All the more reason they kill the ones they possess. If ever you're in the room where someone is trying to excise these spirits, run.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"They will seek another host,\" she replied. \"But generally not a priest. What a lot of people don't know is almost as many priests get killed as those who have spirits cast out of them.\"\n\n\"Because the priest is supposed to be holy?\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"Revenge. They turn their aggression toward the priests and kill them. Then they will seek another human that's close by. That's why you don't want to be the only other person in the room. It's actually safer if the spirit stays in its host.\"\n\n\"Won't the possessed person kill others?\"\n\n\"Not always, but if the spirit is actually detected, measures can be taken to prevent evil deeds.\"\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\nHer face became grim. \"Asylums, unfortunately, are often filled with those who suffer possession.\"\n\n\"Won't the spirits simply leave the host and pursue someone not locked away?\"\n\n\"They're content inside the people's body because they can torment their minds endlessly without fear of the host killing himself.\"\n\n\"So those aren't demons?\" I asked.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Good to know. Let's go back into the room where I got the vials. I'd like to get more supplies from the room where I found this bow, and then we need to hurry.\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty\n\nAfter rummaging through the various weapons and equipment, we returned to the counter half expecting Abigail to have somehow arisen even though she had been decapitated. However, she and Karl were still dead and their bodies had not been disturbed. As strange as it sounded, I felt like we were being watched. The atmosphere thickened and became colder. The chill in the air was suddenly disrupted by a wisp of air that slithered past me, brushing my face.\n\nPenelope stood still near the quilt. Her eyes became troubled.\n\n\"What's wrong?\" I asked.\n\n\"Do you sense it?\"\n\n\"I felt it, actually.\"\n\nShe glanced toward me with apprehension. She eased her way toward the quilting table, peeled back the quilt in progress, and found a pentagram drawn in faded blood. Beside this was a leather-covered spellbook. She took the book and slipped into her coat pocket.\n\n\"You sure that's a good idea?\" I asked.\n\nPenelope shrugged. \"I think the healer I trade with will like this.\"\n\nShe took the bottle of blessed salt from her pocket and sprinkled salt over the pentagram. The tabletop burst into flames. She tried to put out the fire with the quilt, but the flames shot even higher.\n\n\"I think we'd best get out of here. Fast,\" she said.\n\nNo argument from me. I grabbed the large crate filled with glass vials, dried herbs, and wooden stakes I had packed in the supply room. Penelope had found a quiver filled with arrows and slung it over her shoulder. She took new bowstrings and a leather pouch to tie around her waist. We hurried to the door and exited.\n\nFather was halfway across the square coming toward us. \"Well?\"\n\n\"It's a long story,\" I said. \"One that will help pass the time once we start traveling again.\"\n\n\"Money?\" he asked.\n\nI nodded. \"Lots of it.\"\n\n\"Then we should head into the city to get supplies before we cross the Rhine.\"\n\nA hot whooshing sound hissed behind us. The fire shot through the chimney and crawled across the wooden shingled roof.\n\n\"You set the place on fire?\" Father asked with a stern frown.\n\nI shook my head. \"No, sir.\"\n\n\"What do you call that?\"\n\n\"No denying it's fire, Father, but we didn't start it.\"\n\nPenelope said, \"The woman had some sort of protection spell hanging, I suppose, so when they died the shop went up in flames.\"\n\n\"You killed them? Son, we needed the money, but\u2014\"\n\n\"Again, it's a long story. One we can tell on the way out of the city. But we did nothing except defend ourselves.\"\n\n\"Ah, very well,\" he replied.\n\n\"Still it's best we leave before we are actually accused of burning the shop down.\"\n\n***\n\nThomas drove the coach into the city. The architecture of the cathedral was the most spectacular building I had ever seen, holding me in awe of its beauty and its haunting carved statues and gargoyles. These intimidating stone creatures overlooked the streets and were mirrored images of the ones in the cemetery, but thankfully, not alive. Of course, that was merely speculation on my part, and I was about to climb the towers to see for myself.\n\nAfter Father and I bought essential food items that could be stored in the storage compartment of the coach, Thomas drove across the Rhine River. Dependent upon the terrain and weather we should reach Freiburg in as little as a week. But that didn't take into account how long it would take for us to seek out the vampire inside the Black Forest and slay him.\n\nPenelope and I told Father what had happened with the shopkeepers. He sat stunned and in disbelief, but never argued that we had done anything inappropriate. He did offer the occasional question to draw out more information, but he, like me, had never heard of someone who was half demon and half human. The thought alarmed him, and he was less cordial with Madeline and kept more distance from Varak, even though the child had taken quite a liking toward him.\n\nFor me, I could never get past looking at the child's strange sky-blue eyes that often seemed to be trying to search into my mind and look into my soul. The strange aura that surrounded him brought chills to me, and I constantly reminded myself that getting the child to the Archdiocese was my responsibility.\n\nWith daylight hours fading she suggested that she and I nap until after the sunset, just in case more plague demons tried to kill Thomas. As long as the coach kept moving, it was unlikely we'd have to protect him, but with a week more to travel, we'd have to find a place to stop. The horse needed to eat, drink, and rest. At least we had gold and silver coins to find a decent place to stay during the night and hopefully one with a stable.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-One\n\nThe first two nights that we had stopped in a town or village, no plague demons had come to attack and kill Thomas. Penelope and I had stood watch. I wondered if she had killed all of the ones Albert the Were-rat had sent, or if this was an attempt to get us to let our guard down.\n\nPenelope had suggested that perhaps when we had crossed the Rhine, the demons somehow were not permitted to pass over the water or had lost their ability to track Thomas. While it was a hopeful thought, I still didn't think it was the last we'd encounter those demons.\n\nAs the third morning arrived, she and I were exhausted. The thick overcast morning indicated snowstorms were fast approaching. Thomas decided to get an early departure for the day in case the weather made the roads impassable. I didn't mind so long as Penelope and I were allowed to sleep.\n\nStaying up throughout each night had not been the only reason I felt overly exhausted. My disturbing nightmares prevented me from restful sleep. The closer we got to our destination where we'd encounter the vampire, the worse the dreams became. I held the impression that he knew we were coming for him, and he didn't fear us. In fact, he was eager for our arrival.\n\nDreams of blood and slaughter caused my heart to race. At times, these visions seemed to be the vampire's vivid memories being displayed into my mind, as though he was boasting of his prowess, and indicating with an arrogant dominance that I was incapable of slaying him. Seeing these things disturbed me on a deeper level. He was trying to get inside my mind, and I suppose, in a way, he had because I had never received memories from a living vampire. I received portions of the memories of a vampire I had slain, soon after it was turned to ash, but for this vampire to prick his way into my mind from such a far distance was frighteningly impressive.\n\nThe only thing that had prevented me from rising in screaming fits was Penelope's arm draped across my chest. I sensed her warmth and closeness, even in the depths of these horrid nightmares, and a part of me knew the dreams weren't real. However, during my waking hours, my mind recalled and dwelt upon some of the worst incidents in those dreams. I wondered if these were premonitions.\n\nSeveral times I had wanted to share these nightmares with my father. Perhaps I should have, but I expected his advice would be to avoid slaying the vampire at all. In many ways, realizing the power this vampire held, not entering his lair was the most solid suggestion for me to take since he knew we were coming.\n\nPenelope and I slept for the better part of the third day while we traveled. When Father awoke me, the temperature had plummeted and the coach was moving at an abnormally slow place.\n\n\"Is something wrong?\" I asked Father, rubbing my eyes. Penelope slept with her head against my chest. The peaceful look on her face made me not want to awaken her. I wondered how a lady who killed wicked demons rested so well. She half smiled in her sleep. Even though I'd rather leave her sleeping, I gently shook her. She pulled away, opening her eyes. I glanced at Father. \"Why are we traveling so slow?\"\n\n\"Weather's getting worse,\" he replied.\n\nI slid aside the curtain and tried to scrap away the thin layer of ice that had formed on the inside of the glass. The dimming brightness of the day had not completely disappeared, but the sun was shrouded by thick grayness. The fir tree branches were bent harshly, covered by several inches of snow. From what I could tell, the only reason our horse could still pull the coach was due to the groove other carriages ahead of us had cut through the deepening snow. With the giant wet flakes dropping, the entire road would soon disappear beneath a blanket of white.\n\nTwo feet of snow or more covered the edges of the road. The forest on both sides of the road was so thickly coated that even the needles and bark of the trees gleamed white. No browns or greens were visible.\n\nPenelope shivered, pulled the heavy rug we used as a blanket up over us, and pressed against me for additional warmth.\n\n\"Father, rap on the top of the carriage to get Thomas' attention. We need to stop at the first possible place. We'll freeze to death if we get stranded on the trail.\"\n\nHe nodded, turned, and hammered his fist three times.\n\nThomas stopped the coach.\n\nA few seconds later, he opened the door. Outside he shook himself, knocking off several inches of snow from his hat and shoulders. He peered down the darkening road before glancing at me nervously. \"Yes? Daylight is fleeting.\"\n\n\"I didn't mean for you to stop,\" I said.\n\nHe shook more snow from his heavy coat and broke away icicles on his moustache and beard. He tapped his hat against his fist to shatter a thin layer of ice and raked it off. His face glowed cherry red. \"Sorry, but with this howling wind, I'd never hear a word you said from out here.\"\n\n\"Any idea how far from a town or village we are?\"\n\n\"There's a clearing ahead, Forrest. Looks like maybe a village or small city perhaps.\"\n\n\"You think it's a place where we can stop? We can't go much farther. It's far too cold for you to keep driving.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"Yes, frightfully cold out here. I'm stopping there anyway. That had been my plan all along. Demons or not, if that snow keeps falling at the rate it is, the ol' horse won't be able to keep pulling. I'm surprised he's lasted this long.\"\n\nThomas slammed the door shut and returned to the box seat.\n\nMadeline wrapped Varak in another blanket and then covered both of them with a thick wool blanket. When the door had opened, what little heat we had generated amongst ourselves had been sucked out. I hoped the clearing ahead was a village where we could find an inn to spend the night.\n\nAbout a quarter of an hour later, the coach wheels rattled when we reached the cobblestone street. Without knowing whether our accommodations would be mediocre or lavish, I didn't really care so long as we were able to get out of the extreme cold.\n\nExiting the coach, we stood inside a dark recess beneath the arch of a massive wall. The rock building looked to be an old castle and the long wall went for as far as I could see. Mortar between some rocks was cracked and pieces of the wall had shifted over time. Along the adjoining walls, awnings covered narrow walkways. And the archway where we stood was also shielded from the wind. Glass boxes shielded the flames of the gaslight streetlamps.\n\nSnow continued to fall but not as heavily as it had been along the road. In some areas of the sky, the evening stars twinkled. The worst part of the storm seemed to have passed.\n\nI watched the lingering snowflakes pelt softly, quietly, and like I'd always noticed during heavy snow there was a different type of silence when the snow began forming drifts. It seemed nature slept, seeking shelter and warmth in places where the snow couldn't penetrate.\n\nDeep in the forests several wolves broke the silence with long wailful howls. Madeline turned toward the forest with a start, holding Varak a bit tighter.\n\nSeveral watchtowers with pointed gothic gables were in view and spires rose off other buildings in the near distance. Some of the smaller houses had round tower roofs and others polygonal dormers. The angles prevented the heavy snow from staying on the roofs. The place didn't seem to be a large village but more a cluster of tall houses and buildings displaying gothic architecture.\n\nTwo men dressed in long dark overcoats and dark hats retrieved what little baggage we had. They looked like brothers and stood around my height. They were broad in the shoulders with long arms and very large hands. Their faces were extremely thin, making their delicate skin hug their skulls in a firm outline. One offered to take my Hunter box from me, but I shook my head and held it tight in hand. Two more men came and took the horse by its bridle and led it through an open door to what I suspected was the stables. These two men were almost identical to the others, and not a one had spoken a word of greeting to us.\n\nTwo rotund women with bunt gray hair offered meek greetings from a door beneath the awning and motioned us to follow them inside. Their smiles enhanced their chubby cheeks. Of all the inns Father and I had stayed at during our journeys, this was perhaps the most unusual. We glanced toward one another with uncertainty and were reluctant to readily obey. Father glanced toward me since I was the largest I suppose, but he hugged himself for warmth as did Thomas. It was foolish to stay out in the horrible cold any longer. This was a place for lodging. I took the initiative and headed toward the door.\n\nAfter we stepped inside to a large room where a fire burned inside a wide hearth, they closed the door. They showed us where to remove our coats, hats, and boots near the door. I shed my thick overcoat and hung it on a large peg at the side of the door. Thomas and Father did the same. We hung our hats closer to the fire where they'd dry. I set my Hunter box and crossbow beneath my hanging coat where they were partially hidden.\n\nThe low ceilings kept the heat of the roaring fire concentrated around us, and made it difficult to breathe. A few minutes earlier, I had nearly gone numb from being inside the cold coach, and now sweat rolled off my body. Not that I was complaining. I could tell by the smile on my father's face that he was more than satisfied being surrounded by such warmth. Cold weather was his nemesis ever since he had suffered horrible injuries to his legs.\n\nOver the fire a black pot bubbled with a fine aroma lofting into the room. Finely polished chairs with plush pillows were set beside small reading tables and one roll top desk. All were hand-carved from maple.\n\nBeveled dark paneling covered the walls and the ceiling. The lit candles at each table flickered, reflected off the polished wood. A hand-carved cuckoo clock hung on the wall with such detail. One cherished the artwork more than an object that depicted the proper time of day. I walked closer and observed it. Strange as it seemed, the clock looked familiar to me. The little carved people were joining hands, dressed in lederhosen near a painted stream where a carved bear peered into the water, looking at the fish.\n\n\"Gorgeous,\" Penelope whispered, standing beside me with a broad smile.\n\nI nodded.\n\nThis room was more elegant and larger than the cottage I had grown up in. Several single cots were lined against the wall, covered with designed quilts. A strange sensation came over me, and everything held familiarity like I'd been here before. I became dizzy, my stomach nauseous, so I placed my hand against the wall to steady myself. The feeling passed a few seconds later.\n\nPenelope placed her hands on my arm. \"You okay?\"\n\n\"Yes. Fine.\"\n\nOne of the women smiled at Penelope and Madeline. \"This way, ladies.\"\n\nPenelope gave me a strange glance. I shrugged.\n\nThe woman noticed her concern. \"I imagine after your long journey, you'd like to bathe and change into fresh clothes?\"\n\nPenelope smiled and nodded graciously.\n\nA fine dressed gentleman stepped through another side door and motioned us to follow him. The extraordinarily thin man led us to a large room filled with hot humid steam so thick it looked like fog. He walked with stiff posture. \"My name is Jensen, and I've been asked by your host to make certain everything is to your satisfaction. Have you need of anything, do not hesitate to ask.\"\n\n\"That's kind of you,\" Father said.\n\n\"You're quite welcome, sir. Leave your clothes here,\" Jensen said with a haughty proper tone, and with a wave of his hand, he pointed toward a narrow bench. His short black hair looked glossy and combed to perfection. He sported a thin moustache, also glossy, and curled the ends slightly upward. \"I will see to it these are cleaned and pressed. When you have finished bathing, there are robes in the corner for you to wear.\"\n\n\"We've not yet checked in,\" I said. \"Is there somewhere for me to pay for our stay.\"\n\nJensen turned on his heel and faced me, clasping his hands behind his back. He offered a reassuring smile. \"You're a Hunter, are you not?\"\n\nI nodded with a confused frown.\n\n\"Ah, sir ... Forrest, is it?\"\n\n\"Yes? How'd\u2014\"\n\nHis smile widened. \"Your name isn't unknown in these parts. Our host has graciously extended his hospitality to you. We're to accommodate your every need. As his guests all is taken care of, and there is no charge to you and your party. Enjoy your hot bath in this fine mineral water that rises naturally from the hot springs below. Some insist it has healing properties. But if one is skeptical, perhaps it does not?\"\n\nJensen left the room and closed the door behind him.\n\nI cocked a brow and looked at Father. He grinned. \"How did he know my name?\"\n\n\"Jacques told you that Vampire Hunters have reputations that often precede them.\"\n\n\"True,\" I said, still frowning. \"But, I've done nothing worthy of drawing attention to myself.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't worry too much over it,\" he replied. \"Enjoy the notoriety. Everything's free.\"\n\n\"Nothing's free,\" I whispered. \"There's always a price.\"\n\nHe chuckled. \"Tonight it is, son. I don't know about you, but I want to wash all this sweat and grim off my body.\"\n\nFather began undressing and looked at the large pool of water. He grinned and his brow rose. Eagerness brightened his eyes.\n\nThe water was white in color with thick steam rising off the surface. Although I had never seen anything like this in other cities, I felt like I had been here before. Most of the major cities we had traveled through had bathhouses, but never any that were filled with steaming white water. I supposed the minerals were the reason the water was white, but I found myself like Father and wanting to wash away days of sweat, grim, and in my case, dried blood from my cuts.\n\nAfter I undressed and placed my filthy clothes on the bench, I slipped slowly into the hot water. I winced and gasped. At first it seemed too hot, almost like I was going to boil myself, but after I adjusted to the temperature, I leaned my back against the pool wall and closed my eyes.\n\nThe heat of the water soothed my aching muscles, bruises, and seeped into the healing cuts on my back. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. I felt so relaxed that it wouldn't have taken much to drift off to sleep.\n\nFather sighed and splashed water as he sank. \"They might have to pry me out of here, son. I've never felt this good since ... before my legs were severely broken. This hot water ... my legs aren't hurting at all.\"\n\nHidden by a curtain of steam, Thomas slipped into the pool at the other side.\n\n\"Have you been here before?\" I asked the coachman.\n\n\"No, I haven't.\"\n\n\"What is this place?\" Father asked.\n\n\"An inn,\" he replied. \"That's what the sign said at the end of the lane. Based upon its structure, though, I think it must have been a castle prior.\"\n\nFather glanced at me with a sly grin. \"Probably quite expensive then? That is, of course, if we had to pay.\"\n\nI shrugged. \"Even if that wasn't the case, Father, we have more than enough to stay for a night.\"\n\n\"We might be here longer if the snow continues,\" Father replied.\n\n\"The sky was starting to clear before we came indoors,\" I said.\n\n\"That's good news,\" Thomas said. \"Three days of traveling and we've not encountered another one of those demons. Has Penelope any theory for that?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"No. She thinks she might have killed all that Albert had sent, or the river has been a deterrent. Who knows? Maybe his power doesn't extend this far.\"\n\n\"I keep looking when we're traveling. I'm too fearful to think there's no more.\"\n\n\"Don't let down your guard because we haven't.\"\n\n\"I don't plan to.\"\n\nFather placed his face into the water and vigorously scrubbed it. Then he looked at me. \"You think maybe the owner's generosity stems from him needing your services as a Hunter?\"\n\nI had not thought about that. \"That might be possible.\"\n\n\"Seems a good barter, if that's the case,\" Father said.\n\nDepends upon the vampire.\n\nFather slumped deeper into the water until his head was fully submerged. He stayed under for nearly half a minute, and then he blew out long streams of bubbles before pushing himself above the water's surface again. Streams of water rolled down his face. He ran his hand through his beard, laughing, and then he wiped his eyes and stared at me. I had never seen him act so jovial before.\n\nHe pressed his back into the corner of the pool and rested each arm atop the bricked pool wall, lounging. \"Forrest, you seem quite comfortable with the young lady. Penelope has taken a liking to you. Have you expressed your feelings for her?\"\n\nEven though my skin was already red from the heated water, I imagined that my cheeks had probably gotten redder. \"We've talked. But most of our time we've kept ourselves more focused on keeping Thomas alive and killing ghouls and gargoyles, but those are things you're aware of.\"\n\n\"I'm not trying to embarrass you, son. Honest. I'm happy for you. I was simply trying to see if you've come to the place where it's not so difficult to tell her your feelings.\"\n\nI nodded. \"It's easier. A lot easier. I appreciate the advice you gave me, and for abruptly running off that morning and leaving us all alone when I was scared out of my mind.\"\n\nHe laughed. \"It's like a bird teaching its young how to fly. It nudges the young one out of the nest. But they learn to fly on the way down, most of them.\"\n\n\"In my case, you kicked me off the side of a mountain with jagged rocks at the bottom.\"\n\n\"You're alive, aren't you? She's still traveling with us. If she didn't share your interests, you'd have parted ways well before now. She's never been uncomfortable around you.\"\n\n\"She's a little too close at times,\" I replied.\n\n\"And that bothers you?\"\n\nAs much as I enjoyed traveling with Penelope beside me in the coach, I still struggled internally about things Father insisted I shouldn't. \"I suppose not, but then ... as I told you before about my age\u2014\"\n\n\"Given what you are, son, and the knowledge you've attained, that isn't a relevant point for you,\" he said, pointing his finger at me. \"And, not a matter that needs expressed right now.\"\n\nHe pointed toward where Thomas was hidden in the fog.\n\n\"The point is, son, the two of you are interested in one another. There's the courting process\u2014\"\n\nI shook my head. \"That's a bit premature.\"\n\n\"It needs considering.\"\n\n\"Maybe after all the dangers are past.\"\n\n\"Those never end for you, Forrest. You know that. Or her, either, considering the creatures she slays.\"\n\nThat was true.\n\n\"One step at a time,\" I said.\n\nFather grinned. \"You've never followed that route.\"\n\n\"What do you mean by that?\"\n\n\"You never crawled as a child. You were walking quicker than others your age. And the next thing we all knew, you were grown.\"\n\nI wondered what I had missed from bypassing my youth and immediately becoming a man at the age of eight. I had to admit I had to adapt rather quickly. In retrospect the hardest part was ignoring the childhood fears most children experienced. When you had to fight and slay vampires, you didn't have any choice except to quash those fears without allowing them time to fester and grow. In my situation the three major fears I contended with were: losing family members or friends to the undead, getting killed, or getting turned into a vampire. How did I deal with those? By slaying the vampires before they had a chance to act on any of those circumstances.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-Two\n\nI stayed in the hot water until the skin on my hands resembled a wrinkled plum. I'd have remained in the pool until deep in the night but I didn't know if Penelope and Madeline had returned to the room yet. I didn't want Penelope to feel uncomfortable. She had already expressed how Varak made her feel. I marveled that she, who killed demons, held an uneasiness toward the child like I did.\n\nI grabbed one of the thick robes, put it on, and tied the belt around my waist. Already I missed the soothing warmth of the water. I could have stayed several more hours. At least the room was steamy and hot. Once I stepped back into the narrow hallway and headed to our room, I expected the temperature would decrease quite a bit. It wouldn't be as harrowingly cold as outside the castle for which I was thankful.\n\nI returned to the room, opened the door, and entered at the same time Penelope came through the other bedroom door that led to the adjoining hall. Our eyes met and widen with shock. Neither of us had expected anyone else to be in the room, and she seemed as surprised as me that we were the only two here. Just us. Alone together. She was wearing a robe over a silken gown that flowed to her ankles. Even though we were fully covered, we both became uncomfortable and stared at the floor.\n\nWhile gazing downward, I causally glanced up to watch her without raising my head. She was blushing, and she cupped her hands together and held them at her waist. She was overcome with shyness, as was I, but I noticed she was sneaking glances toward me, too. I had never felt so awkward. I was more at a loss for words than when Father had left us alone together at breakfast.\n\nI finally braved looking up and opened my mouth to speak but Madeline came through the door and closed it behind her. She glanced toward Penelope.\n\n\"Where's Varak?\" Madeline asked, nervously glancing around the room.\n\nPenelope frowned. \"I thought you had him?\"\n\nMadeline shook her head and placed a hand over her heart. \"No. The maid said that she'd give him to you while I bathed.\"\n\n\"I've not seen him,\" she replied.\n\nMadeline became frantic, covered her face with her hands, and turned toward the door. She gulped deep breaths and kept looking around the room as though she had no idea what she should do. This was the first time in weeks that she had not kept Varak within her sight. She held him most of the time except whenever we stayed in an inn, like now. When she could, she placed him on the floor and let him crawl. He was able to hold himself up when he found something sturdy to hang onto and had even taken several steps but wasn't able to walk on his own yet.\n\nShe paced side to side for a few moments before she finally decided to reach for the doorknob. The door opened and a maid stepped in with the infant. Madeline snatched the child from the woman's hands and hugged him close.\n\n\"He's a delightful little boy,\" the woman said with a smile. \"We gave him a bath while you relaxed in yours. He's so adorable that I almost hate to hand him back. It's rare for us to see infants, so when we do, we want to hold onto them and pamper them.\"\n\nMadeline scowled.\n\nVarak held himself upright in Madeline's arms, staring around the room with his bright eyes. She carried him across the room to one of the cots but kept a wary stare toward the maid. Her attachment to Varak troubled me. Could we even get her to part with him once we reached the Archdiocese in Freiburg?\n\nThe child had already ensnared her to become his permanent caretaker. I wondered to what extent he controlled her or did he at all? Perhaps she had taken affection and sympathy toward him because he didn't have parents. He was an orphan. It wasn't impossible and seemed logical if I chose to ignore the possibility of the child already being able to tap into his charms.\n\nFather and Thomas came into the room. The maid showed us where the cupboard was before giving the pot of stew several stirs with the large ladle.\n\n\"Should you need any assistance, ring that bell.\" She pointed to the brass table-bell on the reading table. \"Have a good night.\"\n\nFather combed his beard with his fingers. He looked around the room, studying the walls.\n\n\"Is something wrong?\" I asked.\n\nHe made an odd face. \"No. After getting cleaned up so well, I'd just like to trim this wild beard. I don't see any mirrors in here, either. You mind trimming it for me later?\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" I replied. \"You might want to eat first anyway.\"\n\n\"That only means you have to pick out bits of food, which is why it needs trimmed.\"\n\nI shrugged. \"It's only food.\"\n\nPenelope had found the bowls and stood at the pot filling them. She was far different than the night we had first met. I had seen the rugged side of her that night, but almost ever since, she had presented herself with more elegancy than what my parents had taught me.\n\nAfter we had eaten, Father set the map on the bed that detailed where the vampire resided in a small village in the Black Forest near Offenburg. Friedhof was the name of the village, according to the old man who had drawn it.\n\n\"Friedhof?\" I said, glancing toward Thomas. Being inside the coach while he drove, we seldom were fortunate to see any of the road signs. \"Are we anywhere near this place?\"\n\nThomas paled and swallowed hard. He rubbed the side of his face. \"We are in Friedhof.\"\n\nFather frowned. \"You're certain?\"\n\nThe coachman nodded.\n\nFather looked at me. \"Do you think this inn is where the vampire resides?\"\n\nEverything about this room I recognized, even though I had never physically been here. I knew the details of this room, the bath pool, and some of the outside architecture looked familiar to me. From my dreams?\n\n\"He's here,\" I said in a near whisper. \"I think he's the one who holds the deed and title to this castle.\"\n\nPenelope sat on the edge of the bed and placed her hand on my arm.\n\n\"You're sure, son?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"How do you know?\" Thomas asked.\n\n\"I've dreamt vividly about this place several times since we left London.\"\n\n\"So the owner hasn't extended his open invitation to us to hire you?\" Father asked.\n\nI shook my head. \"It doesn't seem so. Maybe he has invited me for a challenge?\"\n\n\"What kind of challenge?\" Penelope asked.\n\n\"To see which one of us survives our conflict.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-Three\n\n\"How is there contention between the two of you when you've never met?\" Penelope asked.\n\n\"Easy. He's a vampire, and I'm a Hunter.\"\n\n\"That automatically defines it?\"\n\n\"Sums it up nicely in my book,\" I said.\n\n\"You've never pardoned a vampire?\"\n\n\"Have you ever let a demon go free?\"\n\nHer eyes narrowed, and she quickly looked away.\n\n\"You have?\" I asked.\n\n\"A few,\" she replied.\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"It's difficult to explain.\"\n\n\"Try.\"\n\nShe huffed and her lips tightened. \"I've allowed some to live in order to glean useful information.\"\n\n\"In what way?\" Father asked.\n\nI frowned. \"How can you trust they'll even tell you the truth?\"\n\nPenelope sat on the edge of the bed and folded her hands on her lap. \"I have the ability to enslave a demon under my control if I choose. Not a powerful demon, but an imp or some of the lessers. I link my mind to its, which is why I choose one with less strength. A mightier demon could reverse the link to enslave me or drive me to insanity or kill me.\"\n\n\"But how does that guarantee they tell the truth?\" I asked.\n\n\"When I enslave them, they cannot lie or they burst into flames.\"\n\n\"What about those plague demons?\" Thomas asked. \"The ones trying to kill me. Can you enslave them?\"\n\nShe shook her head and bit her lower lip. \"Good Heavens, no. That'd be suicide. They'd infect me with the disease.\"\n\n\"Through your thoughts?\" Father asked, perplexed. \"How?\"\n\nShe shrugged. \"I don't know, but I've been warned never to do so through strong intuition, so I understand partly why Forrest reacts to some of his premonitions. But, Forrest, why do you consider all vampires to be evil and unworthy to be pardoned?\"\n\n\"They have no soul. They're ruthless and feed upon other humans.\"\n\n\"You're blanketing all vampires to be exactly the same?\"\n\n\"When it comes to how they stalk their prey and sire offspring, I see no difference in any of them. There's only one I've protected,\" I replied.\n\nHer eyes flicked toward Varak and quickly back toward me.\n\nI nodded. \"And that's only because I swore to do so and you know the reason I cannot.\"\n\n\"Fair enough,\" she said.\n\n\"But the vampire in this village,\" I said. \"There's no reason he should know me yet or that I'd even be headed\u2014\"\n\nIt dawned upon me.\n\n\"What is it, Forrest?\" Father asked.\n\n\"Albert.\"\n\nFather frowned. \"You think he'd alert this vampire that you'd be passing this direction?\"\n\n\"I can think of no other.\"\n\nPenelope gave me a worried look.\n\n\"What's wrong, Penelope?\" I asked.\n\n\"Then everything unfolds here tonight.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\" Thomas asked.\n\n\"The demons that had been sent after you have hidden, but I have a feeling they will emerge again soon to kill you.\"\n\nA gentle rap came at the door. We all turned. Someone rapped again.\n\n\"Yes?\" I asked.\n\nThe door opened promptly.\n\nJensen, who had led us to the men's bathing pool, entered. In his arms was a neat stack of clothes. He acquiesced a slight nod and a friendly smile. In his elegant voice, he said, \"I'm afraid your old coat is in tatters, Hunter, and all of your clothes were ... shall we say, are not even useable as filthy rags. But your host has a gracious heart, offering new clothes his tailor fashioned well before your arrival.\"\n\n\"We can't accept these,\" I said. By accepting the apparel, in a sense he assured we were indebted to him. No words needed to enforce it. It was implied.\n\n\"He insists. In fact, he's offered his invitation for all of you to dine with him tonight at midnight.\"\n\n\"So late?\" Father asked.\n\nHe laughed softly. \"The night is just beginning for him.\"\n\n\"Who exactly is our host?\" I asked.\n\n\"You don't know?\" Jensen asked somewhat amused. \"There is no mistake for your arrival here. He has been expecting you for quite some time, and this is the exact day he predicted you'd arrive.\"\n\n\"Who?\"\n\n\"Count Lorcan,\" he replied. Jensen set the clothes on the cushioned bench. \"Please be prompt arriving at the banquet hall. Not a second too late. Going through this door, you'll find the banquet hall straight down at the end of the corridor. Ladies, the wardrobe against the wall opens into a small changing room.\"\n\n\"How is it he knew of our arrival when we had never sought to come here until a few days ago?\" I asked.\n\nJensen studied me with his brow raised for several moments before offering a polite smile. \"My guess is you already know the answer to that question, dear Hunter, but if you haven't figure it out by the time you arrive at his table, certainly ask him. Lorcan is a man who greatly treasures the company of others and loves intriguing conversation. I'm certain the two of you will get along splendidly. He's talked for days about how he longs to meet you.\"\n\nI could not ascertain whether that was intended as a threat or not. I had hoped Jensen would tell me how Lorcan knew such details as to validate my suspicions. I held no doubt that somehow Lorcan had reached through the netherworld of my dreams and tethered to my thoughts and plans. He could see me, but he had veiled himself where I could not visualize him. It proved he possessed a great deal of power and possibly more than any other vampire I'd faced prior. While these matters were imposing, my curiosity outweighed my fear.\n\nStill smiling politely, Jensen walked to the door, grabbed the knob, and turned to face us before he closed it. \"Remember, promptness, midnight.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nJensen closed the door.\n\nFather's brow furrowed. \"Son, I feel uneasy about this entire situation.\"\n\n\"As do I,\" Penelope said.\n\n\"There's not anything else we can do,\" I said.\n\n\"We could leave,\" Thomas suggested, glancing nervously to the door.\n\nI shook my head. \"How? We have no idea where those men took the horse. I assume it was the stables where they had gone, but we don't rightly know. And if we found the horse, we'd still need to find the wagon, hitch the horse to it ... His guards or servants would apprehend us well before we could succeed in doing all of that.\"\n\nFather sighed and wadded up the map. \"You cannot exactly slay a vampire when he knows we've come to do so.\"\n\n\"Or since he's invited us to eat with him,\" Penelope said softly. \"Not proper etiquette, now is it Forrest?\"\n\nI gave her a pretend stern glance, and she crinkled her nose, smiling. Even though we hadn't known one another long, I could tell when she was being playful. I chuckled.\n\nRegardless of the dinner invitation, she didn't need to question my intent. She knew I'd not leave this former castle without attempting to stake Lorcan. I imagined he was thinking the same. I was quite certain he knew.\n\n\"Perhaps he wishes to eat us for dinner?\" Thomas asked, and I knew his question was not in jest. I tried not to smile.\n\n\"But he's predicted your arrival for longer than we've known he existed,\" Father said. \"You mentioned you've seen this place in your dreams? Have you ever seen him?\"\n\n\"No. He's kept himself hidden from me. I sensed his power. He's strong. I sense him now. The most disturbing part of those dreams was the amount of bloodshed.\"\n\n\"You've witnessed him killing people in your dreams?\" Penelope asked.\n\n\"No. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I detected the volume of blood he's shed and drank from the numerous people he's killed during his lifetime as a vampire. My guess, it's in the hundreds.\"\n\nThomas looked uneasily. \"Then we're nothing more than fodder.\"\n\n\"We have plenty of stakes,\" Father said. \"We tuck them into our pockets, behind our belts\u2014\"\n\n\"Then he immediately views us as a threat,\" I said.\n\n\"And you don't him?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"He is, but nothing in my dreams indicated he seeks to harm or kill me.\"\n\n\"Then what, son, would he want?\"\n\nI thought about his question for several moments. The answer came as if prompted to me, but not from a previous Hunter's wisdom. Lorcan whispered it to me.\n\n\"I think you were right earlier, Father. He wishes to hire me.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-Four\n\n\"Hire you?\" Father said with a most curious stare. \"I've never known a vampire to hire a Hunter. The thought is preposterous.\"\n\n\"Even though you were the one who suggested it?\" I asked with a wide grin.\n\nHe frowned and waved me off. \"Just an old man foolishly thinking out loud, son. Wisdom comes with age, but so does senility. It was an absurd thought.\"\n\n\"Perhaps, but I don't think so,\" I replied. \"The impression in my mind about tonight's invitation is the same gut feeling I've gotten in the past, and they've never been wrong before.\"\n\n\"So you're proposing that we go to his banquet room without any weapons at all? And what happens if we're not right about his invitation?\"\n\n\"It's insane,\" Thomas said, shaking his head.\n\nPenelope shook her head. \"I think Forrest's right. Jensen insists that we're guests here. Lorcan's gifted us with new clothes, a lavish bath and room, and food. Why go through all that trouble only to kill and feast upon us?\"\n\nThomas frowned at her. \"Read Hansel and Gretel sometime. He's made us more presentable before he kills us. Could all this just be a part of his ritual?\"\n\n\"Son, don't forget the most important issue of this argument. He's a vampire. It's too great a risk for us to enter his chambers or dining room without some sort of way to defend ourselves. Besides, I know you. You'd never allow yourself to be hired by a vampire.\"\n\nI frowned and rubbed my bearded chin.\n\n\"Forrest?\" Penelope said. \"You wouldn't?\"\n\n\"I'd like to hear his proposal,\" I replied. \"He'd be hiring me to slay another vampire anyway.\"\n\n\"But what about what you said earlier?\" she asked.\n\nI placed my index finger to my lips and shook my head.\n\nHer eyes and Father's widened, realizing the Count was possibly hearing everything we had said.\n\n\"When we reach the banquet hall,\" I said, \"Remember not to gaze directly into his eyes or he can compel you.\"\n\nThey nodded. Thomas paled and visibly shook.\n\nI slipped my hand around Penelope's. \"You and Madeline need to change into the clothes Jensen brought.\"\n\nFather walked to Madeline and took Varak from her. He smiled. \"I can watch him while you dress.\"\n\nShe smiled with gratitude.\n\nPenelope took the women's clothing and opened the wardrobe doors. The room on the other side was in complete darkness. She took a burning lamp off a table and walked through the hollow wardrobe. The lamp lit up the small room and she smiled at me before pulling the doors closed again.\n\nI found my clothes easily since they were so much wider and larger than anyone else's. I hurried and slipped into them while the women were in the other room. Thomas did the same with his across the room near the hearth. Father sat on the edge of the bed with Varak on his knee. The child smiled and giggled and Father smiled in return. The largest part of my heart wanted Varak not to be what he was probably destined to become. I truly did.\n\nWhile I buttoned my shirt, I wondered what Lorcan's motive was. I agreed with Penelope that Jensen kept insisting we were guests and according to him, Lorcan had been eagerly awaiting our arrival for some time. That was the same sensation I had felt in my dreams.\n\n***\n\nWe arrived at the banquet hall a few minutes before midnight. In spite of the long room, the table was modest with ten finely carved high-back chairs positioned on each side. Count Lorcan's chair was at the far end and regal like a king's. The back and seat were thickly padded.\n\nOn the opposite stone wall were six large life-size paintings. Three were beautiful women dressed in ballroom dresses and wearing different gemstone necklaces, bracelets, and rings. The other three paintings were men dressed in elegant, if not regal, attire. They resembled one another enough for me to believe they must be siblings, perhaps Lorcan's own children?\n\nLorcan was already seated. He sat stiff and proper. His pale complexion glowed in contrast to his solid black long sleeved shirt. By the way the cloth shimmered beneath the candle chandelier, I assumed it was silk. He wore a ruby ring on his right hand and a sapphire ring on his left. He motioned to us and smiled. \"Welcome guests! Please, come and be seated. And Forrest, please, sit here beside me. We've so much to discuss.\"\n\nThomas hurried to the farthest chair from Lorcan where place settings were. For some unexplained reason, he couldn't hide his nervousness in the presence of the vampire. I didn't quite understand his anxiety. Upon his first encounter with the plague demon, before Penelope had arrived and killed it, he had bravely accepted the potential fate of death from the plague demon calmer than whatever suspicions he believed he'd be dealt at the hands of Philip.\n\nI sat to the left of Lorcan, Penelope sat beside me, and Father sat directly across from me. Madeline held Varak and sat beside Father.\n\nAn elegantly dressed manservant came to the table with a bottle of wine. Lorcan smiled at us while the man filled our glasses.\n\n\"This wine comes from my vineyards. I do hope you find the taste to your liking,\" he said. When all our glasses were filled, he lifted his glass to toast, and being polite, we did the same. \"A toast! To possibilities.\"\n\nI sipped the wine. It tasted sweet with the hint of a nutty flavor.\n\nLorcan set down his wine goblet and glanced at me. The skin on his face was tight, drawn in. For those who noticed this first, they'd be disturbed by his appearance, but I doubted anyone that made eye contact with him ever noticed his corpselike appearance. His striking blue eyes were piercing, almost icy white. A person's gaze was immediately drawn to them, which made them susceptible to his glamour. Fortunately, I didn't succumb to his charm.\n\nHe waved his hand toward the food on the table. \"Please, help yourselves.\"\n\nA roasted pheasant rested on a large plate with all types of side dishes and breads neatly placed around the bird. Everyone glanced nervously toward me for approval, or perhaps more their concern on whether eating the food was safe. Since I hadn't perceived any malice from Lorcan yet, I took one of the bird's legs and a piece of bread, placing them upon my plate.\n\nAfter I took several bites, the others began putting food onto their plates.\n\nLorcan leaned toward me. \"I trust that your journey through the Black Forest thus far has been a pleasant one?\"\n\n\"Other than the heavy snow,\" I replied.\n\nLorcan laughed softly. \"Ah, I'm afraid I have no control over that. How are you liking your stay at my castle?\"\n\nI offered a cordial smile, still concerned about being this close to a vampire and not having a weapon. \"It's been nice so far.\"\n\n\"I sense your apprehension, Hunter. Relax. You wonder whether this hospitality is genuine or short-lived. I understand. But I assure you, this invitation comes with no strings attached.\"\n\nFather frowned. \"What exactly has no strings attached?\"\n\nLorcan pursed his lips and forced a smile, glancing toward Father. He was annoyed by my father's interruption. \"I have need of your son's services, which is a matter he and I need to discuss since he is the Hunter.\"\n\nNormally, Father found offense in being considered less a vampire hunter than I, but he didn't seem to acknowledge the snide insult. \"A vampire hiring a Hunter to kill another vampire?\"\n\nLorcan's jaw tightened.\n\n\"Father, please.\"\n\nFather shook his head and turned his attention to the food. \"My apologies. And my compliments to your cook. Excellent food.\"\n\n\"Duly noted,\" Lorcan said. He turned toward me again.\n\n\"Is that what you're doing? Hiring me to kill another vampire?\" I asked.\n\n\"It is an offer I'd like for you to consider. As I said, you may refuse to slay this vampire and be on your way in the morning without fear of any repercussions.\"\n\n\"Why have you chosen me? Certainly other Hunters have passed this way.\"\n\n\"Indeed they have, Forrest, but none have shown the integrity that you've displayed.\"\n\n\"And how did you learn of me?\" I asked, tearing a piece of bread in half and dipping it into the wine sauce.\n\nLorcan smiled and folded his hands in a prayer-like manner. \"We've visited, you and I, but on a different plane. I know you've sensed my presence.\"\n\nI narrowed my eyes. \"Yes, and why have you invaded my dreams? How have you done so?\"\n\n\"I simply wished to learn more about you. Few Hunters have the ability to kill so many masters in such a short amount of time like you have. Of course, you should know that this would capture the attention of other vampires, especially that of other master vampires.\"\n\n\"Like yourself?\"\n\nHe feigned a smile. \"I'd be a fool if I didn't keep my best interests at heart, would I not? Learning of your success against three powerful masters stirred me with concern, as it has throughout the entire undead realm. You've caused a ripple-effect, which shall not go unnoticed, so I'd rather befriend you than find myself on the wrong side of your stake.\"\n\nI suppressed my laughter. He'd always be an enemy to me regardless. I refused to ever entertain the friendship of any vampire. I'd never allow myself to trust one. I had already seen the spite of masters and those had held no compassion toward others, and apparently not for their own kind if Lorcan was truly seeking to hire me to slay another vampire.\n\nI chewed the bread, took a sip of the wine, and swallowed. \"Tell me about this vampire you wish to have slain, and better yet, why do you seek his death? Can't you kill him?\"\n\nLorcan eased to the side his chair, stuck his elbow on the armrest, and rested his chin atop his fist. \"Diplomacy has its downsides amongst ruling vampires, Forrest. A master vampire who rips the head off a rival ruling vampire tends to lose favor with the great vampire council. In case you're unaware of the family that rules over the council, they are the upper echelon, those directly descended from Count Dracula himself.\"\n\n\"As I have understood,\" I replied, \"Dracula's descendants have more to trouble themselves over than minor skirmishes like yours.\"\n\nLorcan's eyes narrowed. \"And how would you know of such things?\"\n\n\"Even vampires are known to namedrop when they're faced with death, thinking they'll strike fear into my heart and cause me to reconsider.\"\n\nLorcan leaned back in his seat and laughed. \"So you don't negotiate?\"\n\nI stared into his eyes, unflinching. \"With a vampire, never.\"\n\nHis laughter and smile ceased. He studied me for several moments. \"I see. Does that limit you killing this other vampire for me then? As I said, you're free to decline my offer.\"\n\n\"You've yet given me a reason for why you view this master as a threat.\"\n\nLorcan smiled evenly. \"He has plotted to kill my family members. More specifically, my children.\"\n\nI nodded toward the six paintings on the wall. \"I suppose these are they?\"\n\nFather turned and looked over his shoulder. His cheek was puffed with a hunk of bread. \"Nice family.\"\n\nLorcan nodded. \"Yes. My children.\"\n\n\"He has made attempts?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What are his reasons for doing so?\"\n\n\"Territorial rights,\" Lorcan replied.\n\nI frowned.\n\n\"By government treaties set by the Vlad's vampire council, the mountains of the Black Forest were deeded to me. Ambrose, the other master, does not like that I have six children and view them as a greater threat than myself.\"\n\n\"Why is that?\" Father asked with a full mouth.\n\nLorcan's eyes narrowed, but he didn't bother looking in my father's direction. I simply shook my head at Father.\n\n\"Why does this Ambrose view them as a threat if the territory has already been deeded to you? And does that imply you rule over the human governments or are you the overseer?\" I asked.\n\n\"I'm the overseer, but since I have six children, I can place them into prominent positions throughout the Black Forest,\" Lorcan replied. \"Doing so prevents Ambrose from trying to infiltrate my lands with lesser vampires of his own.\"\n\n\"And where are your children now?\"\n\nLorcan smiled. \"They reside in this old castle with me. Until Ambrose has been ... slain, I cannot establish their rightful places in the mountains. I had wanted them to dine with us tonight, but I thought that might be too daunting for all of you.\"\n\nI gave a shrug and looked again at their pictures on the wall. Each woman was beautiful. Their eyes held intense confidence, and their smiles curled with tinges of mischief. The three men had stern gazes that could make a brave man cower. Their chiseled facial features displayed the coldness of their hearts. These men could be ruthless once they resided over an area of the Black Forest. They probably already were. Whoever the artist was, he or she had captured the essence of Lorcan's children.\n\n\"Where does Ambrose reside?\" I asked.\n\n\"Schaffhausen, Switzerland.\"\n\n\"Is that his assigned territory?\"\n\nLorcan nodded.\n\n\"And why is it not satisfactory to him?\"\n\n\"It should be,\" he replied. \"Splendid city. A fantastic place, but for whatever reason, he covets being farther north and wishes to settle within my forest.\"\n\n\"Have you not spoken with him? Offered a meeting to resolve the dispute?\"\n\n\"We've exchanged letters, which is a painfully slow process, but we've never met in person.\"\n\n\"Then how do you know he wishes to have your children slain?\"\n\n\"There have been attempts on each of them during this past year,\" Lorcan said softly. \"Usually at banquets and balls with other esteemed rulers.\"\n\n\"How do you know it is Ambrose?\"\n\nLorcan glanced toward Penelope and smiled. She looked away. \"We captured each would-be slayer, compelled them, and they told us who had hired them.\"\n\n\"Other Hunters?\"\n\nLorcan grinned and glanced toward my father. \"No. He's not that resourceful. Common folks who think they are capable of killing vampires and nearly get themselves killed for attempting it.\" He glanced back to me. \"I realize it is unorthodox for me to hire a Hunter to kill another vampire, but when it comes to protecting my children and preventing the wrath of the council from raining down upon me for taking the law into my own hands, I cannot find a greater ally than a Hunter.\"\n\nPenelope slipped her hand under the table and squeezed my leg. I looked at her and she subtly shook her head.\n\n\"You have something you wish to contribute?\" Lorcan asked her.\n\n\"I'm curious as to what your reward is?\"\n\n\"Fair enough. One thousand gold marks.\"\n\nFather's fork dropped from his hand and clattered against his plate. His eyes widened, and he coughed to prevent choking on whatever he had been trying to swallow. He pounded his chest with his fist a couple of times. His face reddened and tears moistened his eyes. He gave me a stern look that indicated that I should accept the offer.\n\n\"That's not enough?\" Lorcan asked, giving Father an amused smile.\n\nFather tried to clear his throat, but it was too scratchy for him to speak. He waved his hand, shook his head, and sipped the wine but still declined an answer.\n\nLorcan turned toward me. \"Is that not a fair enough offer?\"\n\nI held no emotion on my face. I took a sip of wine and set down the goblet. \"Might I inform you of my decision in the morning? Before we could even accept, we have to meet the archbishop in Freiburg.\"\n\nHe offered a courteous smile. \"Of course. Again, there's no threat if you decide not to accept the offer. I will simply have to look for another Hunter.\"\n\n\"If you wish me to consider your offer, I have one stipulation.\"\n\nLorcan's brow rose. \"And what is that, Hunter?\"\n\n\"Stop your attempted intrusions into my mind while I sleep,\" I said evenly.\n\nHe held a smirk for several moments. \"Attempted?\"\n\n\"Any further attempts at all whether I'm awake or sleeping,\" I replied, \"and I will not entertain your offer, and instead, regard you as a hostile enemy.\"\n\n\"You have my word,\" Lorcan said through gritted teeth.\n\nI stood. \"Thank you for extending your hospitality to us.\"\n\nHe rose as well. \"Indeed, Hunter, this conversation has been quite ... informative.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-Five\n\nWhen we returned to our room and closed the door, Father shook his head in disbelief. He was panting from exhilaration, not exhaustion. \"You need to think about this offer, Forrest?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" I replied. \"Why wouldn't I?\"\n\n\"One thousand gold marks,\" he replied. \"That's more than you and I could earn over the rest of our lifetimes.\"\n\n\"That's a huge exaggeration, Father. But we don't know that he's telling the truth,\" I whispered.\n\n\"Forrest's right,\" Penelope said. \"We don't know.\"\n\nI stood as close to them as possible. Speaking in whispers didn't guarantee the vampires couldn't hear us. Their magnified hearing was capable of eavesdropping for quite some distance. Besides that, most castles had hidden passageways, and as old as this one was, it was possible for someone to be listening on the other side of our walls where we couldn't see or detect them.\n\n\"We have another issue to consider,\" I whispered.\n\n\"What?\" Father asked in a hushed tone.\n\n\"We're not dealing with just one vampire. There are seven. We are outnumbered. Even with our best weapons, should they turn on us, we're dead.\"\n\nFather frowned. \"You suspect he might do that? Don't you think his offer is legitimate?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"He doesn't seem to be lying. I believe he genuinely wants Ambrose slain, but we cannot ignore the possibility of being attacked or killed by them.\"\n\n\"For the amount of money he's offering\u2014\"\n\n\"Look, Father, even if we are successful slaying Ambrose, who's to say Lorcan won't kill us when we return to collect his reward?\"\n\nThomas sat on the edge of a cot and cleared his throat. His complexion was pasty pale. \"Whatever you decide, Forrest, my journey ends when we reach Freiburg and you hand the child over to the Archdiocese, provided no additional plague demons arise and kill me.\"\n\nI nodded. \"I have no issue with that. Your obligation ends there.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" he said softly.\n\n\"No need to be. We appreciate your services thus far.\"\n\n\"Albert never gave me any other choice.\"\n\nI smiled. \"Everyone has a choice. Action or inaction. You chose to act in order to survive, and we've chosen to protect you.\"\n\nHe offered a humble smile. \"We've not reached Freiburg yet.\"\n\n\"Penelope and I will do all we can to ensure that we do.\"\n\nShe smiled at Thomas. \"We will.\"\n\nFrustrated, Father paced the floor. \"Do you realize how much that money could help us? How long it would last?\"\n\nI'd never known my father to be greedy, but he wanted that money more than his next breath. We had always had a modest lifestyle. Things were lean at times, but no different than it had been for most other families in Romania. Poverty was rampant. People fought for survival, sometimes going a few days without eating a meal. One thousand gold marks was an extremely large amount of money for us. I understood that, but it put a strange glint in his eyes, worse than when he had fought his cravings against consuming strong drinks.\n\n\"The money issue is secondhand, Father. Everything else needs to be weighted.\"\n\n\"Son\u2014\"\n\n\"You and Jacques were the ones who hammered it into my head about not making hasty decisions, remember?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"You were both right. If we go after Ambrose strictly because of greed, we're dead. A dead man cannot spend a thousand gold marks or even one. Money does a corpse no good at all,\" I said.\n\n\"Unless you're Lorcan,\" Penelope said with a wide grin.\n\n\"You know what my point is,\" I replied.\n\nShe nodded. \"I know. Just trying to lessen the tension.\"\n\n\"Money should never be the main objective. Slaying the vampire and learning as much about him or her is what needs to be first on our minds. We need to calculate the risks and ensure we know where his lair is.\"\n\nFather sat in a cushioned chair with a slight grin. \"You're talking like you want to slay him?\"\n\nI sighed. \"It's my obligation as a Hunter to rid the world of all vampires.\"\n\nPenelope eased close and whispered, \"Even Lorcan and his children?\"\n\nI nodded. \"It's late. Everyone needs to get some sleep. I'll stand watch until morning.\"\n\n\"You need your sleep, too,\" she said.\n\n\"I'll sleep in the coach when we depart tomorrow morning. Someone needs to remain awake throughout the night.\"\n\nI retrieved my Hunter box from near the door and set it on a reading table. I lay several sharp stakes beside the box for easy access. I placed several bottles of garlic juice on another table. I had two bottles of holy water left, which wasn't a lot when I faced the possibility of fighting seven vampires. Once we reached Freiburg, I needed to restock.\n\n***\n\nMorning came without incident or confrontation. I never detected one sound in the outer hallways or behind any of our walls. While I had sat and waited, expecting the worst from Lorcan, my mind entertained the idea of what Penelope had suggested. Were all vampires pure evil? Was it unfair and unjust for me to place them all into the same category?\n\nHunters weren't given any guidelines. There wasn't a manual filled with commandments, at least none I had found. We had Hunter's instinct and intuition, but nowhere was it explicitly written that vampires were necessarily evil. Of course my first confrontation with Baron Randolph had left me with the impression that all vampires were self-serving, vain, and merciless. Then the next few reinforced those attributes. This prejudiced me to believe no vampire was capable of compassion or mercy.\n\nEven one night's thoughts concerning the true nature of vampires didn't dissuade my self-proclaimed credo. They were vile creatures of darkness, soulless, and doomed for eternity. Perhaps they despised mortals because those of us who believed in an afterlife held to the hope they'd never have again. Who truly understood what fractured in their minds after they turned into vampires? The transformation affected their entire beings. Over time, most people's minds deteriorated somewhat, and as I had noted with Philip, who was a Hunter and not a vampire, there was an actual threat to mankind whenever a mentally deranged person became a vampire. Although it was merely speculation on my part, I believed Philip had absorbed the mental inclinations of one of these lunatics. He no longer possessed rationality. But when it came to Varak, neither had I.\n\nPenelope eased off her cot, slipped her robe on, and came to sit beside me. She smiled. Her curly hair was frizzed and looked like a damaged windblown daisy after an intense rain. She leaned her head against my shoulder. \"You want to get some sleep? I can watch the door until we're ready to go.\"\n\n\"I'm fine. People have been moving outside in the hall. Servants, I suppose.\" I looked at the cuckoo clock. It was almost 5 a.m.\n\nShe stared up into my eyes in a way that made me feel funny inside. I stared at her lips, and she did mine. My stomach felt nervous. Without realizing I was moving, I leaned down to kiss her and Father abruptly wheezed and cleared his throat, startling she and I.\n\nWe pulled away from one another and turned to look at him. His eyes were still closed but he rolled over, facing our direction. He'd be awake within a few minutes. Once he tossed and turned, sleep lost its grip on him.\n\nI released a long sigh. I glanced at her again, but the moment was lost.\n\nSomeone rapped at the door. Father sat up on the edge of the bed, as did Thomas and Madeline.\n\nA few seconds later, the door opened. Jensen stepped into the room. His eyes regarded the stakes on the table. He suddenly looked concerned and partially confused. It showed a lack of gratitude toward Lorcan on our part.\n\nHis eyes shifted toward me. \"I do hope you had a pleasant night's sleep. Count Lorcan has requested your presence for breakfast in the banquet hall. He has matters to discuss while the stable hands are getting your horse and coach ready for you to depart.\"\n\nWe nodded. After Jensen left, I packed my weapons into the box, and we hurriedly dressed. I don't believe anyone rushed because they wanted to eat. We were ready to leave the castle and travel to Freiburg.\n\n\"Have you made your decision?\" Father asked.\n\n\"I have.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"We will accept the offer.\"\n\nFather's mouth dropped. His eyes grew fierce with excitement. He patted my shoulder with great enthusiasm.\n\n\"One thing, Father.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" he asked.\n\n\"When we get to the banquet hall, let me do the talking. Lorcan was quite perturbed that you kept interrupting him earlier in the night.\"\n\nFather grinned. \"I'll be silent.\"\n\n\"And try not to divulge your zeal for the money, okay?\"\n\nHe nodded, but I knew he'd never succeed. His eyes and smile were a direct reflection of how he felt inside. No matter how hard he tried, he'd never vanquish his lust for the reward.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-Six\n\nLorcan sat at the head of the table when we arrived. He didn't seem as jovial as he had been near midnight. I couldn't tell if he was angry or simply impatient at hearing my answer. Of course with sunrise approaching in a couple of hours, I imagined he was ready to retreat to the darkness of his casket or sepulcher. It stood to reason a vampire might get cranky like a mortal when he doesn't get rest.\n\nAfter we took our seats, he rested his elbows upon the table and stared at me. \"What have you decided?\"\n\n\"We will slay Ambrose for you,\" I replied.\n\nHe grinned with satisfaction. \"Splendid. How did you arrive at your decision, if I may ask?\"\n\nI crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, attempting to look like I had spent a long time coming to my reasoning during the night. \"I suppose if I had children and someone was trying to kill them, I'd find a way to eradicate such an enemy. And I wouldn't care whom I had to hire to carry it out. Although I've not met your children, I can tell they are of the utmost prominence based upon their portraits on the wall.\" Perhaps I had been too flattering, but I simply wanted to pack our belongings and travel on our way to Freiburg. Even though Lorcan had promised I could reject the offer without repercussions, I wanted to depart in the most amicable way possible.\n\n\"What is your business in Freiburg?\" he asked. His eyes focused on Madeline and Varak. He suddenly seemed interested in them when earlier in the night he had not.\n\n\"Personal.\"\n\nHe frowned at me. \"Ah, I see. No coaxing it out of you?\"\n\n\"It is not of your concern.\"\n\nLorcan studied me for several moments in silence, trying to read me. He gave a disappointed smile. \"You find it difficult to trust me?\"\n\n\"Trust isn't something I readily offer anyone.\"\n\n\"You're wise, Hunter. Trust must be earned. A foolish man who trusts a stranger often suffers great loss and tragedy. That's why I have taken additional means in the hope I can prove my trustworthiness to you.\"\n\nI frowned. \"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Flora!\" Lorcan shouted.\n\nOur attention turned to the tall slender brunette standing at the side door beneath the paintings. Her long curly hair hung down around her shoulders. Flora wore an elegant royal blue gown like she had when the artist had painted her image onto the canvas. Her alabaster skin was flawless. With high cheekbones and a narrow-bridge nose, her face displayed aristocracy, more so than her father's did. My first impression was that she was haughty and regarded herself in a separate class altogether than any of us. Not that I could argue such a point because we were paupers in comparison.\n\nA tall man stood limply at her side, standing only because she held him upright. In spite of her thin appearance, she was incredibly strong. The man must have been over twice her weight and stood about my height. She was holding him up by his shirt collar with one hand. Without much effort, she flung his body toward the table. He landed a few feet away, and the man didn't move. He wasn't breathing.\n\n\"Forrest?\" Penelope whispered. \"That's Philip, isn't it?\"\n\nI rose. Lorcan placed a fierce grip around my wrist, preventing me from leaving the table. If he chose, he could snap my arm with little effort. \"Is he dead?\"\n\nLorcan nodded. \"Yes.\"\n\nI pulled my arm, and he freed me of his hold.\n\n\"You killed him?\"\n\nHe smiled. \"You should be relieved.\"\n\n\"Why's that?\" I asked.\n\n\"He came to the castle at 3 a.m. with the intent of finding and killing you. He arrived on horseback, covered with ice and snow. Determination was what had kept him going. A normal person would have died from the frigid cold. But not him. He was raving mad. What's odd, Forrest, is that he held no interest in slaying me or my children. He was, however, insistent on killing you.\" A strange amused smile curled on his lips. \"What would possess a Hunter to kill another Hunter? I've never heard any reports of a Hunter turning against another within their league. Especially not with the passion he exhibited. He considered you his enemy. Why is that, Hunter?\"\n\n\"He didn't tell you?\" I asked.\n\nLorcan shook his head. \"No. But it makes me wonder what trespasses you've committed against him?\"\n\n\"None.\"\n\n\"And yet he's pursued you?\"\n\nI shrugged and tried to appear dumbstruck.\n\n\"Come now, Forrest. You're amongst friends. While none of us were able to compel him to get the answers we wanted, we know he has ruthlessly tracked you for quite some time. For what purpose?\"\n\n\"We didn't see eye to eye.\"\n\n\"Apparently not,\" Lorcan said. \"But there has to be more to this.\"\n\n\"Like what?\" I asked.\n\n\"How'd he know you were in my castle of all places?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\" And that was the truth. I didn't understand how he had escaped from the cemetery. Father had tied Philip better than I had the time before, and yet, he had somehow caught up to us. I didn't have any idea how he had done so, and certainly, I was dumbfounded at how he knew where we were lodging for the night. He had to have had help. What worried me was who had helped him and guided him to us? Was it through another Hunter's intellect? Had we not stopped at this inn for the night, he would have found us on the road and confronted me probably for the last time.\n\nLorcan's eyes narrowed. \"You really don't know, do you?\"\n\nI shook my head.\n\n\"Nonetheless, he was your mortal enemy, and we've ensured he won't ever make another attempt to kill you.\"\n\nI walked around the table. Philip lay face down on the floor. I grabbed his shoulder and flipped him over. Rage had frozen in his facial expressions. He had not feared death or the vampires. He had probably tried to fight them off, but even he wasn't a match for Lorcan's children. His determination to defeat them was only so he could find where Varak was.\n\nTwo sets of bite marks were on his neck with two more sets near each wrist. If my guess was correct, Lorcan's children had drained him of his blood. They had feasted on a Hunter's blood, which boosted their strength far greater than normal. Now was not the time for me to make any accusations or even hope to combat any of his children. We were outnumbered, and with their increased strength, it would be like trying to fight a dozen or more vampires.\n\nI checked Philip's mouth for blood but found none.\n\n\"And this is supposed to build my trust in you?\" I asked.\n\n\"Shouldn't it? He was your enemy. We killed him. This is my way of showing loyalty to my oath. My gesture of good faith,\" Lorcan said with genuine pride in his voice.\n\nI knelt in silence beside Philip's body. I grieved over his death, not for who he was as a person, but because another Hunter was dead. Because I had vowed to protect the hybrid infant, Philip was dead.\n\nLorcan turned in his seat, offering a reassuring smile. \"Do you not realize that I sense your skepticism, and what Hunter wouldn't be skeptical making a pact with a vampire? It's not like you're dealing with the Devil.\"\n\nI had my doubts about that.\n\nLorcan continued, \"Just like another Hunter seeking to kill you, it's doubtful many vampires would dare consider the thought of a master vampire hiring a Hunter to kill another master. Perhaps this is why destiny crossed our paths. Hunters hate you and you have befriended the vampire who killed your enemy.\"\n\nAnger stirred inside me. I wanted to blurt out how wrong he was and that he was forever my lifelong enemy. He certainly wasn't my friend. Killing the Hunter, which did prevent me from killing him or being killed, could be viewed more as a threat, his way of proving the strength of his family, which was daunting on a whole other level. Philip had far more experience slaying vampires than I did. I'm certain Lorcan was aware of that.\n\nThe more vampires I encountered, the better I had become at determining how old vampires were. The older the vampire, the greater his or her strength. I didn't know if vampires were able to determine the same thing about Hunters. I guessed it was possible, and if Lorcan could, he knew I was still a novice Hunter.\n\nI kept an even expression on my face. The last thing I needed to show was my inner rage or the slightest hint of fear. I didn't have fear for myself, but for Penelope, my father, and the others. I feared what might happen to them if I didn't keep my temper in check. For the first time since I had expressed my feelings to Penelope, I recalled why I had predetermined the risks of falling in love. It wasn't my death that was the greatest loss. It was hers and the agony of living without her.\n\nFather must have sensed the potential threat, too. He kept looking at Philip and then he glanced toward Flora who stood at the door. She held a defiant look when she gazed at me, almost like she wanted me to attack her father. I knew better. Lorcan had already shown me his strength when he had gripped my wrist. Without a weapon, I wasn't physically capable of fighting him or her. Flora could be at my throat before I saw her move, especially with her enhanced power.\n\nI rose to my feet, standing beside Philip's corpse. \"I appreciate you having an interest in my welfare.\" I expressed the words, but I was torn inside with gut-wrenching sickness. It troubled me that a Hunter was dead and in a way, I had offered thanks to the vampires who had killed him. It was difficult swallowing the vile taste of guilt.\n\nLorcan smiled. \"It's not just your welfare, Hunter, but the rest of your party, too.\"\n\nI frowned.\n\nLorcan stood. \"Come. All of you. Let me show you.\"\n\nHe walked toward the door where his daughter stood. She slid her arm around the crook of his, and they led the way down the long dark corridor. The walls were made of massive stones. Every ten feet a lit iron sconce was fastened to the wall. This area was the older section of the castle and had not been renovated like our inn room and bathhouse had been.\n\nThe long hallway was cool with a dank smell. The path we walked seemed endless. I was reminded of the long outer wall when we had arrived. This arched tunnel must be inside that wall.\n\nLorcan glanced over his shoulder and smiled. \"Not much farther.\"\n\nUneasiness settled over me. Father and Penelope both gave me nervous glances. Perhaps they felt the same as I did. Was he leading us into a trap?\n\nAgain we had left our weapons in the room, and I was already having second thoughts. I had never expected to see Philip dead at the hands\u2014well the fangs, I suppose\u2014of Lorcan's children. Even had I suspected they had killed another Hunter, I knew our weapons would not help us. Not at this particular moment anyway and not with their increased strength.\n\nPhilip might have been capable of defending himself against two of the siblings, but it was highly improbable that he had any knowledge of the total number of vampires in this castle. One master and six of his offspring. Of course, there could be even more than that, if each sibling had made sires, too. But depending upon how long the siblings had been vampires, their strength and prowess might equal that of a master. Philip never had a chance to survive against such odds. Even if I was fighting by his side, we'd have been easily defeated. The unity of these vampires was too powerful for a couple of Hunters. I wondered if Lorcan realized the dangers of assigning each of his children to a different section of his territory within the Black Forest. The farther away from one another they were, the weaker they became.\n\nLorcan and Flora turned to the right at the first hall that connected to the corridor we were walking along. This corridor was shorter and the iron bars on each side of the hall looked about as inviting as any prison cell might present itself to an unsuspecting victim.\n\nBut there weren't any prisoners here. Each barred room held a different torture device. If the rock walls could scream, I had a good idea of the terror they'd reveal. Spiked weapons, stretching racks, and metal enclosures that were placed over roaring fires to cook prisoners alive. Lorcan and his family were more demented than I had credited them. I suppose Philip had gotten off easier than previous prisoners.\n\nWe passed all of those rooms and entered the circular room at the end of the corridor. Inside this room a banister encircled a pit below. Flora placed her hands upon the smooth railing. Her father stood beside her.\n\n\"Look below.\"\n\nExcept for Madeline, the rest of us stepped to the side of the rail with extreme caution and gazed down. She remained outside the room, cradling Varak, gently rocking him. Down at the bottom of the pit were eight plague demons like the ones Penelope had killed. I frowned and caught Lorcan's intense stare.\n\nHe smiled. \"Until your arrival, we've never encounter such demons within our halls. Like the Hunter, are these also your enemy, Forrest?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"Not mine, but our coachman's.\"\n\n\"I see. And why is that?\" he asked.\n\n\"You don't know?\"\n\n\"I wouldn't be asking you if I did.\"\n\n\"You have no knowledge of Albert the Were-rat?\" I asked warily.\n\nHe shook his head, slightly puzzled by the name. \"No. What significance does this were-rat have with these demons?\"\n\nUntil this moment, I truly had thought Lorcan had received word about me through Albert. While vampires could mask lies, I didn't perceive him as being dishonest. And the plague demons had seemed to have caught him off guard, too.\n\n\"Thomas?\" I said.\n\nThomas nervously rubbed his moustache, swallowed hard, and held onto the banister to hold himself upright. \"Albert sent these after me.\"\n\n\"Why?\" Lorcan asked.\n\n\"As punishment for not repaying my debt to him.\"\n\n\"I see. So you have a death sentence hanging over you? Rather than face your rightful punishment, you've decided to flee?\" Lorcan asked.\n\nI shook my head. \"No, the demons are more of a test, or in this case, a twisted game.\"\n\n\"Game?\" Lorcan asked. \"What sort of game?\"\n\n\"If Thomas succeeds in getting us to Freiburg without getting killed by one of the plague demons, his debt is cleared.\"\n\nLorcan said, \"I see. Interesting. Then if I were all of you, I'd gather your belongings and finish your journey to Freiburg. Your horse and coach should be ready and awaiting you at the entrance. These demons are trapped here and cannot escape to follow you.\"\n\nPenelope looked at the demons in the pit with eagerness in her gaze. She wanted to kill them. I sensed her detestation toward them was the same as mine toward vampires. \"Why are these demons confined to the pit?\"\n\nFlora said, \"As a precaution for the castle's safety, there is a summoning circle on the pit floor that draws invading demons here.\"\n\n\"Who drew the circle?\" Penelope asked.\n\n\"I did,\" Flora replied with a prideful smile.\n\nLorcan chuckled softly. \"She has taken a keen interest in demons and other dark arts.\"\n\n\"You realize these demons carry the plague?\"\n\nFlora's smile didn't fade. \"Indeed I do.\"\n\nPenelope regarded Flora with a skeptical glare.\n\nFlora pursed her lips. \"It's not like I keep them as pets.\"\n\n\"Then why do you?\"\n\n\"To study them and their behaviors.\"\n\n\"These have only one purpose, and that's to infect villages and cities with the Black Death.\"\n\nFlora crinkled her nose. \"They are the most boring of demons.\"\n\nPenelope's brow rose. \"Oh? What ones are interesting?\"\n\n\"The incubus has been ... shall I say, the most exciting,\" Flora replied with a sly grin before taking in a deep breath, closing her eyes, and shuddering.\n\nPenelope turned toward me with a stunned expression. \"Can we get out of here?\"\n\nMadeline gave me a worried look, too.\n\nI glanced to the others. \"Let's go.\"\n\nThey all turned to walk through the corridor filled with various torture chambers. Thomas hurried ahead of everyone, almost running. Apparently he didn't believe these demons were trapped and could escape. I held my own doubts about that as well.\n\nFather limped beside Madeline and Penelope followed. I took a step toward the door, but Lorcan placed his hand firmly on my shoulder, turning me.\n\n\"Forrest?\" Lorcan said. \"One more thing?\"\n\nI faced him. \"Yes?\"\n\nHe handed me a leather pouch that was tied shut. \"There are one hundred marks inside. An advance, if you will.\"\n\n\"We've not done anything yet,\" I replied. \"I'd rather not take the money until after Ambrose has been slain.\"\n\n\"Forrest, Ambrose resides well on the other side of Freiburg. You'll have need of food and boarding expenses. Or are you considering forfeiting my offer altogether?\"\n\n\"No, I accept. I never go back on my word.\"\n\nLorcan smiled, placed the pouch into the palm of my hand, and then gently folded my fingers over the pouch. \"Good.\"\n\n\"And what do you wish for me to bring back as proof of his death?\" I asked.\n\n\"Proof?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"Ambrose wears an amber broach that encases a large stag beetle, and on his left hand is a ruby ring. Either of those or both should suffice,\" Lorcan said.\n\n\"Very well.\"\n\nHe smiled. \"At least now you'll have less obstacles since the other Hunter has suffered his demise. As for the demons, Flora will keep them bound in the pit.\"\n\n\"You didn't turn Philip, did you?\"\n\nLorcan chuckled softly. \"You've never seen my children eat. A Hunter's blood divided between six adult children? Not a drop was left. Besides, he was a raving lunatic. I certainly don't need someone else to keep on a leash.\"\n\nFlora flicked her gaze toward me. Hunger shown in her eyes and my neck burned where she stared, longing to bite me. She seemed to have problems restraining her bloodlust. I wondered if she had recently become a vampire because she exhibited the signs of an untamed vampire, lacking control of her hunger. Regardless, she made me uncomfortable, but I tried not to show it. She licked her lips before smiling seductively, showing the slightest tips of her fangs. I'd have thought her much more attractive had she been human. Be that as it may, I couldn't wait to get outside the castle and travel farther away.\n\n\"How can you be certain this was all of the plague demons?\" I asked.\n\nFlora rested a hand on her hip and flipped her long curls to one side. \"Whoever sent them, only sent eight.\"\n\n\"But Penelope has killed several of them.\"\n\n\"Yes. They dissolve into ash, but they can reappear elsewhere. But as long as they remain in physical form, they are confined inside the pit and cannot materialize elsewhere.\"\n\nI hoped she was telling the truth and provided I didn't somehow offend her before our departure, maybe she'd ensure their confinement until we reached Freiburg. I couldn't know that she would, but I didn't dare ask, either. No sense intriguing her amusement since she seemed like one who enjoyed playing morbid games with mortals' lives. Sort of like Albert ...\n\n\"If I may ask,\" Lorcan said, \"what is your state of affairs in Freiburg? Does it have to do with the child the maiden tends to?\"\n\nIt was already partially a question he had asked before. I guessed he wanted to throw me off guard. I studied his eyes for several moments. I felt his power leap toward me, trying to penetrate my thoughts. I frowned and formed fists. \"I warned you about trying to probe my thoughts.\"\n\nFlora bore her fangs in an instant and hissed. Her eyes peered black and narrowed. She moved across the floor toward me.\n\n\"Daughter, no.\" Lorcan placed his hand between her and me. \"My apologies, Forrest. Forgive me. Force of habit.\"\n\nI relaxed my hands and nodded. Flora retracted her fangs, but she didn't look away from me. She attempted to look intimidating, but I ignored her. At this particular moment, I knew not to turn my back toward her.\n\n\"But it is the child. Why Freiburg? Why are you taking him there?\"\n\n\"He's an orphan,\" I replied.\n\n\"There are orphanages and cathedrals all through the countries you've traveled, are there not? We have them here, even though we're a small village. And you're passing all of them in preference of Freiburg.\"\n\n\"I am. More than that, I cannot tell you.\"\n\n\"I find it strange that your journey has been plagued by such adversity,\" Lorcan said.\n\n\"And it hasn't ended yet,\" I replied.\n\n\"Flora and I shall escort you to your room. It has been a pleasure.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-Seven\n\nWhen Thomas drove the coach through the castle gates, the snow was no longer falling. Winds during the night had blown a good portion of the snow off the road. The sun peeked at the top of the mountainside, presenting a pastel sky of reds, purples, and pinks. I was ecstatic that we were on our way.\n\nFlora had made me uneasy. Vampires could compel most mortals, but a beautiful vampire held a stronger seduction, drawing unsuspecting victims to her by enticing their lusts first. Even at a young age, I realized people tended to judge others upon first glance, and often the plain common folk were quickly ignored while our interests were drawn to those with unnatural beauty and charisma. Sadly, some people sacrificed their dearest possessions in their pursuit of obtaining what they believed to be the perfect spouse; only to later find themselves wallowing in sorrow when they realized what was on the surface was far more beautiful than the monster contained within.\n\nFlora was dangerous, and probably had been so before she had been turned, using her looks and charm to obtain the things she desired without question or argument. As a vampire she could influence others to do her bidding for hundreds of years, provided she wasn't slain well beforehand.\n\nFather cleared his throat and adjusted himself in his seat. I tossed him the pouch of coins. He caught the pouch, frowned, and shook it in his hand. The sound of jostling coins brought a curious hopeful smile to his face. \"What is this?\"\n\n\"He gave us one hundred marks.\"\n\nHis mouth dropped in awe.\n\n\"You know what this means, don't you Father?\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Regardless of whether or not I've made the right decision in slaying Ambrose for Lorcan, there's no declining the offer now.\"\n\nPenelope leaned her head against my shoulder. \"His daughter seems more unpredictable than he is. I don't care if she did deny it, but she views demons as pets. She has a fetish for them. A vampire who holds affection for demons is quite unsettling. She has eight plague demons in her possession. Do you realize how great a threat that is to the population of neighboring towns and cities?\"\n\n\"You think she'd use them to infect a city?\" I asked.\n\n\"Don't you? Imagine how she could blackmail a king or queen into giving her whatever she wanted. If they denied her, she could use one demon to prove her point and keep the other seven in reserve.\"\n\nI hadn't considered that. Manipulation was the agenda of most ruling vampires, and Flora definitely fit that mold. Mentally, she had a passion to watch others suffer. It wouldn't have surprised me to learn that the torture devices were toys she used on peasants whenever she became bored.\n\nBut Penelope was right. Flora could choose whatever city she desired and claim it for her own. She had been the only one of the six that we had met, and if she were the least dangerous of Lorcan's children, I couldn't imagine what Philip had faced when he had fought for his life. The others had conveniently excused themselves from our presence, which I considered more intimidating because it left us wondering about their true nature. All we really knew about them was what the paintings on the wall revealed.\n\nFrowning, I said, \"Once we reach Freiburg, won't these demons that Albert sent after Thomas dissolve or return to wherever he had summoned them from?\"\n\n\"We can hope but at this point, there's no way to know. If she's completely bound them to the circle in the pit, she now controls them.\"\n\nFather shook his head. \"What she could do with those demons is more frightening than the turmoil most vampires cause, if she chooses to use them to spread the plague.\"\n\n\"I agree. But we don't have time to concern ourselves over that just yet. We're a day and a half's journey from Freiburg. If what Lorcan says is true, then we don't have to worry ourselves with the plague demons. But that doesn't mean I don't have to worry about other Hunters trying to get Varak before we hand him over to the archbishop.\"\n\nMadeline leveled a frightened stare at me while hugging the child tightly. The boy cooed and giggled, as innocently like any child his age would. How I wished I were able to see ahead in time to know what this child would become, so I could feel more at ease. My mind was torn between hope and sorrowful regret, as I longed to keep the world safer. But I knew I couldn't allow harm to come to Varak while he was in our possession. Once Varak was at the Archdiocese, I was released of my oath and hoped that in the future I didn't need to rectify the situation, but I knew in the back of my mind my worries would continue to linger.\n\nWith a broad smile, Father stacked the gold coins in his hand.\n\nI rubbed my burning eyes and yawned. The coach rocked steadily, making it more difficult to stay awake. \"I'm going to get some sleep since it will be several hours before we stop.\"\n\nFather stared at the coins, not hearing a single word I had said. I shrugged and leaned against the wall. Penelope lay against me and placed her arm around my waist. The warmth the coach had absorbed from being stored inside Lorcan's stables was being drawn away by the winter's frosty grasp, in much the same way Death sucked the last fragments of life from a dying man or woman. I pulled a blanket over us to fight the chill that was building inside the coach, and I surrendered to sleep.\n\n***\n\nMy sleep had been uneventful. No dreams or nightmares came, and thankfully, no attempts from Lorcan to venture into my mind had occurred either. Perhaps he could keep his word, but only time would tell.\n\nNightfall had settled. I rubbed my eyes and shook my head. I was still groggy. Father held a small lantern and sat at the window. He pulled the curtain aside and looked outside.\n\n\"I've slept through the entire day?\" I asked.\n\nHe nodded. \"I'm surprised you never awakened yourself with all your raucous snoring. I'd have stuffed cotton in my ears if I'd had some.\"\n\n\"I was snoring?\"\n\n\"Like a giant bear.\" Penelope playfully jabbed me with her elbow. \"You kept me from sleeping.\"\n\nFather smiled. \"Her snoring wasn't as loud as yours, son, but she was trying hard to complete.\"\n\n\"What?\" she asked. \"I don't snore.\"\n\n\"Yes, young lady, you do,\" Father said.\n\nI stared out the window. \"Why are we still traveling?\"\n\n\"My guess is that Thomas wants to get to Freiburg as quickly as possible. He's only stopped a few times to feed and water the horse.\"\n\n\"Even after the demons have been bound, he's reluctant to stay the night elsewhere?\" I asked.\n\n\"Do you place full confidence in her claim that she will keep them bound?\"\n\nI sighed. \"Not really, but he's going to freeze to death.\"\n\n\"Death comes to us all eventually, son. I'd rather freeze to death than die from the plague.\"\n\n\"Unfortunately, we don't always get to choose our time of death or how we die. I suppose it's best not to know, but some forewarning would be nice,\" I said.\n\nHe nodded. \"And sometimes you survive against incredible odds. You live when you should have died.\"\n\nI knew he was talking about his own near death experience.\n\n\"Get Thomas' attention,\" I said.\n\nFather turned and hammered his fist against the top of the coach. Thomas shouted, \"Whoa!\"\n\nA few seconds after the coach stopped, Thomas opened the door.\n\n\"Are we not stopping for the night?\" I asked.\n\n\"We are approximately a half hour from reaching Freiburg,\" he replied.\n\n\"So soon?\"\n\nHe smiled. \"I have kept the horse at a faster gait. The road has been better than what it was during the previous few days. Less snow, so the extra speed shouldn't stress him. We're almost there.\"\n\nA sense of relief passed through me. It was good this part of our journey was coming to an end. \"Great news. Press on.\"\n\nThomas smiled and closed the door. A few seconds later, he shrieked. The volume of his terrified screams decreased as something dragged him into the forest.\n\nPenelope grabbed her bow and flung open the door, but Thomas was nowhere in sight. I opened my Hunter box, searched through the contents, and stuffed various items into my coat pockets. With a stake in one hand and my loaded crossbow in the other, I squeezed through the door and stepped onto the icy road.\n\n\"Where is he?\" I asked.\n\nShe shook her head and whispered, \"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Demons?\"\n\n\"I don't sense any.\"\n\nThe horse shuffled his feet back and forth, making nervous whinnies. His eyes were wide.\n\nPenelope took her night spectacles and separated the lenses, handing me one of them.\n\nFaint moonlight spilled overhead, cascading downward through the firs and leafless deciduous trees. Snarls came from the shadowed recesses within the trees. I stepped around Penelope to shield her while scanning the trees with the night goggle lens. Whatever had taken him had carried him behind the larger trees out of sight.\n\n\"Thomas!\" I shouted, holding the stake tightly to my side.\n\n\"Is that really a good idea?\" she asked.\n\n\"Be ready,\" I whispered.\n\n\"For what?\" She took her half of the spectacles and used the long leather strap to tie and secure it against her right eye.\n\n\"A werewolf,\" I replied.\n\nShe pulled an arrow from her quiver and lined it up on her bow. \"Will an arrow kill it?\"\n\n\"No, but it causes a great deal of pain. Aim for a vulnerable spot.\"\n\n\"Like what exactly?\"\n\n\"An eye or the throat.\"\n\n\"And that won't kill it?\"\n\n\"No. It's difficult to kill a were creature.\"\n\nThomas wailed in agony. Claws slashed through him, making wet sloppy sounds. He was silent in an instant. He was dead.\n\nAnger pulsed through me. For all Thomas had endured to reach Freiburg and to come this close, a werewolf killed him. Since Jacques was a werewolf, I tended to be more permissive and not view them as enemies. However, after meeting Ulrich I understood that not all werewolves were affable toward the human population or even to those they once considered to be a part of their pack.\n\n\"Thomas is dead,\" I whispered.\n\n\"That's what I feared.\" Her voice crackled.\n\n\"Whatever happens, do not get bitten or scratched,\" I said. \"Or you'll become all hairy.\"\n\n\"Does that mean you'd like me less?\"\n\n\"It would change things quite a bit for both of us.\"\n\nBranches snapped on the other side of the coach. Thomas had been killed in the forest on this side of the road. \"There's more than one.\"\n\n\"I heard the footsteps, too,\" she said. She turned and pressed her back against mine. \"You watch that side and I'll watch this one.\"\n\nThe horse stamped its feet. I couldn't see where these creatures were or their advancement. Deep breaths came from the edge of the trees ahead of me, but this creature blended in with the darkness quite well.\n\nI pressed the lens firmly against my eye and squinted to hold it like an ocular. I held the crossbow ahead of me, waiting for the slightest movement that helped pinpoint its location.\n\nFather eased the coach door open. \"Is everything okay out there?\"\n\n\"Close the door,\" I whispered. \"Thomas is dead.\"\n\nHe leaned forward and looked out. \"Dead? How?\"\n\n\"Werewolves,\" Penelope said softly.\n\nFather eased the door closed.\n\n\"See anything?\" I whispered.\n\nShe didn't reply. Her arm pressed against my back and the bowstring twung! A fierce growl softened to painful yelps, moaning and crying. \"The eye is a soft spot.\"\n\nThe beast I faced growled and leapt from the shadows. It was massive and muscular, almost the size of a small bear. It charged, growling. I fired the crossbow, striking its upper thigh. It roared from the pain. The arrow slowed the creature's pace slightly, but it kept coming toward me, snarling and raising its sharp-clawed hands, ready to slice through me. Nothing heightened the anger of a werewolf like a painful injury.\n\nI dropped the crossbow and pulled my revolver from my coat pocket, firing three rapid shots into its chest when only one was necessary. The werewolf dropped and spasmed on the road before stiffening in death.\n\nI turned and nearly knocked Penelope down. I didn't realize how close she was standing to me. Her wide eyes stared at the one she had shot with her bow. I walked toward it. It was writhing on the road with an arrow protruding from its eye. It was so preoccupied trying to pry out the arrow that it never even noticed my approach. I aimed and fired one silver bullet into its forehead, ending its struggle permanently.\n\nThe smell of burnt gunpowder wafted on the air. The gunshots echoed deep into the forest, reverberating for miles.\n\n\"They're dead?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes. I used silver bullets. Automatically guarantees the death of werewolves.\" I listened for more movement along the forest floor but heard nothing. \"Any other werewolves out here? I have more silver bullets if you'd like your fate to be like theirs. Show yourselves!\"\n\nFour sets of footsteps scrambled away from the road, all running in different directions. With their keen sense of smell and hearing, they had no doubt witnessed the death of these two on the road. Mostly likely one of the two I had killed was an alpha. Both could be alphas if one was male and the other female, but in this darkness, I wasn't about to check. Since one of them had killed Thomas, I really didn't care to know. Both deserved death and if any of the others returned, I'd shoot them without hesitation.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-Eight\n\nI almost went into the forest to search for Thomas' body, but I couldn't bear to see his torn body. The ground was frozen cold, so we couldn't bury him. We certainly couldn't haul his eviscerated remains into the coach either. He had deserved a much better ending for his life. I had promised to protect him and had failed to keep him safe.\n\nI grieved. Fighting burning tears of regret, I took a deep breath and opened the coach door.\n\n\"Is everything okay?\" Father asked.\n\n\"Two of the werewolves are dead and the others have fled deeper into the forest. Do you know how to drive this coach, Father?\"\n\nHe stared absently at me for several moments before giving a slight nod. \"I can.\"\n\n\"We'll get you bundled to weather this cold. It's not too far until we reach the city,\" I said.\n\nPenelope placed her hand on mine. \"Ride up there with him, Forrest.\"\n\nFather stepped out of the coach with the burning lantern in his hand. In the faint glow of the light, Father's nervousness was evident. He looked toward the trees at the edge of the dark road, possibly assuming he'd be the next to get attacked by one of the werewolves.\n\nI offered my hand to Penelope to help her climb into the coach. After she seated herself, I secured the door.\n\nFather glanced toward me. \"You're sure Thomas is dead? Because if he isn't\u2014\"\n\n\"From the sounds of him being sliced open and his guts falling out? He's dead.\"\n\n\"Unless you've seen the body, son, you can't be absolutely certain.\"\n\nI sighed. \"Being as I don't know for certain where his body is, don't you think we'd put ourselves at greater risk by searching for him in the dark? I don't like the idea of leaving Penelope, Madeline, and the baby alone. The other werewolves fled, but it doesn't guarantee they won't return.\"\n\nHowls echoed deeper in the forests. Seconds later, others answered. They were all around us on both sides of the road.\n\n\"You're right. As much as it pains me, it's best we travel on. Thomas was a good man.\"\n\n\"I agree. Here, let me help you up into the seat,\" I said.\n\nUsually he adamantly insisted on doing any physical activity without assistance, but he offered no argument. I don't know if he realized he couldn't possibly balance and pull himself up the side of the coach or if he was more worried that the remaining werewolves were circling back.\n\nOnce he grabbed the rails, I boosted him to the top of the coach.\n\nHe glanced down. \"You mind handing me the lantern?\"\n\n\"We'll attract less attention without it,\" I replied.\n\nFather grumbled obscenities under his breath. I draped a heavy rug over my shoulder, grabbed the rails, and climbed up the narrow steps.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" he asked, scooting over on the bench.\n\n\"Keeping you company.\"\n\n\"Company? Out here?\" His pretend protest wasn't too convincing.\n\nI took the thick rug and covered his legs with it. \"It was Penelope's suggestion.\"\n\nI caught his wide grin in the dim moonlight. \"You'd best not ruin what you have with her, son. You won't find another as grand.\"\n\n\"And what do I have?\" I asked with a grin. \"You just like her because she insists that you're taken care of.\"\n\nFather laughed, released the wheel brake, and tapped the reins on the horse's back. \"What's wrong with that?\"\n\nThe horse trudged forward and gradually increased its pace. The cold night air stung my face. I was glad my full beard covered my chin and cheeks to lessen the cold. I marveled at how Thomas had withstood the brutal cold. He had been extremely thin but never complained. Surprisingly, he'd never suffered any frostbite either.\n\nI glanced toward the trees where I estimated he had died, but I was unable to see his remains even from the high seat. I couldn't believe less than ten minutes earlier he had been breathing, alive, and so quickly, gone. Life was fragile.\n\nFather offered me a shrewd stare and shook his gloved finger. \"Don't tell me you don't realize what you have with Penelope, son. She feels for you the same as you do her. Neither of you can hide it. There was a reason for the two of you to meet, and it wasn't those plague demons, either. Have you told her that you love her?\"\n\n\"You said that it was evident.\"\n\n\"Have you told her?\"\n\n\"No, well, yes, a little, but not at great length. But from how you describe us, if it's evident to you, she already knows.\"\n\n\"That's not the same thing. A woman needs to hear it, son. Hell, we all need to hear it.\" His voice cracked. He wiped away a tear. \"Cause there comes a time when the woman you love might no longer be with you. No other pain in this world hurts as badly as that. Trust me. I know.\"\n\nI placed my arm across my father's back and hugged him close. In comparison to my size, he was small, but whenever painful memories of Momma tugged his heartstrings, he seemed so much smaller. \"I know, Father.\"\n\nHe sobbed and patted my hand. \"So you need to tell her.\"\n\n\"I will.\"\n\nThe horse picked up its pace. The moonlight spilled through the trees, forming odd shadows as the coach rolled down the road. Patches of ice shimmered. Riding atop the coach offered an incredible sense of freedom. The breezing wind exhilarated me in spite of its biting cold. I watched the shadows, half expecting the werewolf pack to regroup and attack, but they never did. If anything, they had probably returned to the road to claim their dead.\n\nFather sat in silence for several miles. His thoughts were on Momma. He remained torn inside over her loss. Those scars had never healed, and I never expected them to during his living years. It was times like this when I truly hoped a Heaven existed. A place where people crossed a threshold after they died to be reunited with their deceased loved ones. That was the hope the common folks clung to and what the cathedral priests insisted to be true, provided you followed their strict doctrines. Indeed, the thoughts of such a place offered peace and reassurance, which was something every person needed. True love never died, even after someone had. Love and memories lived on.\n\n\"I'm sorry, son,\" Father said.\n\n\"For what?\"\n\nThe hurt in his voice prevented him from saying more.\n\n\"Father, I love you, and I hurt inside because of your pain. I cannot imagine how much you ache inside.\"\n\n\"You don't miss her?\" he asked. \"Doesn't your heart break because you cannot tell her you love her, too?\"\n\n\"Of course I miss her. I wish I could tell her every day, but the love you shared with Momma was different than a son's love for his mother. That's part of why I'm reluctant telling Penelope my feelings and letting her know that I love her. I see how this still haunts and affects you, and I\u2014I don't think I'm strong enough to sustain that kind of loss and pain.\"\n\nFather turned in the coach seat and faced me. \"Do you know what would have hurt me more? If I had never told her how I felt, we'd never have fallen in love, and instead of this loss, I'd be living with the regret of what I would have otherwise missed in life. It's okay to hurt inside. It's okay to grieve, but it's not okay to cower and never take that chance to find true love. Remember that.\"\n\nHe slapped my leg hard and looked toward the road again.\n\nI thought about Penelope and how close we had come together within such a short amount of time. We were good friends and strange as it seemed, we didn't need to fully express our feelings in words. We had melded that understanding in our minds and our emotions, but Father was right. I needed to express to her more than I had over breakfast that morning. We never knew how short our lives would be. Thomas was a prime example of unexpected death. It could have been any one of us though, and we still had a few more hours of traveling before we reached Freiburg.\n\nWe rode without speaking for a long while. The tree lines on both sides of the road grew thinner. I suspected we were getting closer to the outskirts of Freiburg. I felt the sudden relief lessen the tension in my shoulders.\n\nThe coach axles creaked and scraped as the wheels passed over holes and loose stones. Father stiffened in the seat and pulled back on the reins. The horse planted its feet, but due to the road's descent and the icy patches, it skidded, trying to stop. The poor horse slid for several yards as the weight of the wagon pressed against it. Father pulled the wagon brake.\n\nI glanced toward him. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Don't you see them?\" He pointed.\n\nFrom the edges of the road, four people dressed in hooded robes stepped directly across our path. They each held lanterns that glowed to life.\n\n\"I see them,\" I replied, placing my hand on my revolver and stood. \"State your purpose. I have a revolver.\"\n\nThe second one from my right stepped forward, lowered his hood, and lifted an empty hand. \"Sir, may I approach? We offer no harm to any man. But what I must ask is vitally urgent.\"\n\n\"Yes, come ahead,\" I replied.\n\nAs he came closer, the moonlight and the light from his lantern reflected off the large silver cross hanging on his necklace. Not a werewolf. That was always good to know upfront. In his other hand he rubbed rosary beads. His nimble steps and his facial expression revealed he was more nervous than I was.\n\nHe stopped less than five yards from the horse. From the distance it was difficult to determine his age. His head was bald. \"Is your destination to visit the archbishop at the Archdiocese?\"\n\n\"It is,\" I replied. \"Who asks?\"\n\n\"Father Lucas. Would you be Forrest?\"\n\nMy eyes narrowed. I pulled the gun from my coat pocket.\n\n\"Son!\" Father scolded in a harsh whisper. \"He's a priest for God's sake.\"\n\n\"So he says,\" I whispered. I kept my eyes on the man. We had had enough unpleasant surprises on our journey. \"How do you know my name?\"\n\n\"The archbishop has sent us to intercept you.\"\n\n\"Intercept us? Why? Is he prohibiting our visit?\"\n\nLucas graciously smiled and shook his head. \"No, it's nothing like that. He's offering your group refuge, but getting there requires a slight alternate route.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because there are people who wish to kill you before you get to the Archdiocese.\"\n\n\"What people?\"\n\nThe priest stepped closer, rubbing the beads harder. \"They call themselves Hunters. They have every entrance into the cathedral guarded. The archbishop has sent us to offer you safe passage as he is concerned about possible bloodshed.\"\n\n\"As am I,\" I replied.\n\nThe priest offered a slight smile and nodded. \"But first, he has asked me to seek the reason for your arrival. To see if our accompanying you is acceptable in the eyes of our Lord.\"\n\nI frowned, not exactly sure how to take that statement. How would asking our purpose now make any difference to their God? What prompted the archbishop to send these priests then, if not for some type of conviction to aid us? Questions for another time. \"We have an orphaned child, and we were asked to deliver him to the archbishop in Freiburg.\"\n\n\"Why there particularly?\"\n\n\"Father, I wish I knew. It was a request and I swore I'd honor it. With my life if necessary.\"\n\n\"A noble gesture. I'm certain the archbishop will be pleased to hear, but we must hurry.\"\n\n\"If all the entrances are being guarded, how did the four of you even get past them?\"\n\nThe priest smiled. \"We have our ways, Forrest.\"\n\n\"Did you receive word about our arrival before these Hunters came?\"\n\nHe shook his head.\n\n\"But they told you my name?\"\n\n\"Yes. And they asked of the child, but never disclosed why they wanted him. The archbishop does not want any blood spilled on our sanctuary grounds. Such contradicts the sole reason for the cathedral's existence.\"\n\nFather cleared his throat. \"So, can you guarantee our safety?\"\n\nLucas walked toward the coach. \"With the guidance and strength of our Lord, we will do all we can. If you permit us, we will drive the carriage into the city and keep you hidden inside the coach.\"\n\n\"Won't people find it odd for priests to be driving the coach?\" I asked.\n\n\"Not at all. The men are looking for you. Not us.\"\n\n\"The Hunters will be suspicious seeing this coach under the control of priests.\"\n\nLucas smiled. \"They will never see us.\"\n\n\"Come on, son,\" Father said. \"Let's climb down.\"\n\nFather checked the brake and tied the lead lines around the brake handle. He turned and lowered one foot onto the first step. I took his hand and helped keep him steady as he slowly made his way down to the bottom. By the time I reached the road, the other three priests had gathered beside the horse.\n\nI didn't sense any threat from them. Nothing at all indicated they had come to cause us problems or further delay, but I was uncomfortable being near them. Perhaps it could have been their association to the cathedral I was most wary of, simply because I didn't understand the reasons behind their undying loyalty to a religion that clashed violently against other religions around the world, trying to quash and obliterate them. While they openly told their parishioners to love one another, the direct leadership practiced something entirely different by killing all who opposed them, sometimes entire villages and civilizations. I had witnessed it in Bucharest and had never forgotten it.\n\nI stubbornly refused to cast aside the folk traditions my mother had taught me in favor of the cathedrals, especially since their goal was to annihilate all of the other world beliefs. It seemed ungodly to me.\n\nTwo of the priests climbed to the box seat and sat. The other two awkwardly positioned themselves atop the baggage compartment at the rear of the coach and held to metal handles while Father and I climbed back inside the coach.\n\nI didn't have any idea how they planned to sneak us past the Hunters, but for the moment, I was thankful to be back inside, out of the cold.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Twenty-Nine\n\nPenelope looked concern when Father and I climbed back into the coach and sat down. When the horse began pulling us, she peered out the window. \"Why are we moving?\"\n\nI explained the situation.\n\n\"Hunters are waiting at the cathedral?\" she asked.\n\nI nodded.\n\nShe placed her hand into mine. \"How did they know we were coming? Albert?\"\n\nWhile I believed Albert had sent Philip after me, and nothing had swayed my thoughts about that, I didn't think Albert had informed the Hunters waiting in Freiburg. But since Varak was a hybrid child, still innocent, an uninformed Hunter would never perceive this child any differently than a normal child. If I didn't know the boy's heritage, I'd never suspect the child to be half vampire. Everything about him on the surface demonstrated a typical infant incapable of any wrongdoing. So I really had no idea why these Hunters knew, except being told through Hunter's intellect, which to my understanding should not occur.\n\n\"I'm not sure,\" I replied.\n\n\"But you're still delivering Varak to the archbishop?\"\n\n\"Yes. Afterwards, I have no further obligations.\"\n\nPenelope leaned her head against my shoulder. Since I had slept through the entire day, I wasn't tired. I peered out the window. We were outside the forest now. The faint moonlight was enough to reveal the city buildings.\n\nThe driver slowed the horse several blocks into the city, turned onto a narrow side street, and stopped the coach in the darkness. The coach jostled as the priests climbed down.\n\nThe door opened. \"Come. Everyone out.\"\n\n\"Where are we going?\" I asked.\n\n\"We cannot risk driving the coach any closer to the cathedral,\" he replied. \"We take the underground tunnels while the city sleeps.\"\n\nMadeline hugged Varak. \"Will it be safe?\"\n\n\"It's the route we took to not be seen,\" the priest replied. \"Please, hurry.\"\n\nI grabbed my Hunter box while Penelope collected her bow and quiver. Father got out and helped Madeline climb down with Varak. The baby cried. She rocked him and gently shushed in his ear.\n\nThe cold night air and the eerie silence of the dark streets seemed almost worse than when we had stopped on the forest road. In some ways, I expected it to be more harrowing since these Hunters were all that stood between the Archdiocese and us.\n\n\"How many Hunters are here?\" I asked the priest closest to me.\n\n\"At least a dozen,\" he replied.\n\n\"It is exactly a dozen,\" Father Lucas said. \"Aren't you a Hunter, too?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\nHe sighed. \"It must be a heavy burden you bear.\"\n\n\"What's that?\" I asked.\n\n\"To be hunted by your own.\" He walked to me, took something from his pocket, and then rubbed an oily substance on my forehead. He spoke a blessing in Latin, which basically asked God's blessings upon my soul. \"The longer we linger above ground, the more danger you're in. Come. With a dozen men, they have enough to patrol the area, looking for you.\"\n\nHe turned and walked away.\n\nA dozen Hunters in one place? Such was unheard of. Dominus had spoken about Hunters fighting in pairs, and he was the only Hunter I had ever fought side by side with. But a dozen? To kill me and this child? At this point, I didn't expect any negotiations. They'd kill me on sight. Nothing deterred their obsession and since I hadn't given the child to Philip, I was marked for death, too, because sending a dozen Hunters against one was overkill.\n\nI was confused. They knew our destination, my name. How? Dominus might know, but he wasn't here to ask. Again, I missed receiving Jacques' advice. Something seemed amiss, and as usual, when I needed Hunter's insight the most, the spirits remained silent.\n\nBells gonged across the city, signifying the time. An hour before midnight. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as being midnight, but each heavy gong echoed an eerie tone, shattering the stillness of the night.\n\nI stopped at the side of a building and reached into my pocket.\n\n\"What are you doing?\" Penelope asked.\n\n\"Loading my gun and the crossbow.\"\n\n\"You plan to fight them?\"\n\n\"To keep you, Father, and the others safe, I'll do whatever's necessary. I'll even die if I must to protect you.\"\n\nPenelope placed her hand against my stomach. \"You're not fighting them alone, Forrest.\"\n\nShe leaned up and kissed me. With my huge hands fumbling with the bullets in the dark, I didn't respond readily, so she turned to follow the swaying lanterns the priests carried.\n\nOnce the gun was loaded, I hurried to catch up to her. There were so many things I longed to tell her, but this wasn't the proper time or place. I wished I could stop everything else around us to talk heart to heart with her without outside interruptions.\n\nA lot of changes were about to take place that I had never expected, and even if I possessed the foresight, I doubted the outcomes would have been any different.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirty\n\nThe underground tunnels were better maintained than the ones we had seen in London. Flickering torches inserted into iron sconces dimly lit the arched corridors. The torches were few and scattered, offering enough light to see the paths to each side of the water trenches. The dark shadowed recesses remained ample places for attackers to hide.\n\nIron lattices closed off some of the smaller side tunnels but didn't seem to be locked. Water gently flowed along the stone channels; the sound was deceptively reminiscent of a slow moving stream meandering through a mossy forest. Within the darkness it was easy to imagine being in such a place, but my attention focused more on potential enemies emerging with the intent of killing us.\n\nThe priests walked four abreast in a determined march. They moved fast enough that Father had a difficult time keeping up with them. Had they not carried oil lanterns, Father and Madeline would have probably lost sight of them. Penelope and I were able to use her night spectacles, which helped, but with only one lens each, it also limited us.\n\nMadeline cradled Varak as she walked. He seemed to be asleep. Father fought to stay beside her while they walked.\n\nPenelope and I stayed behind everyone else, constantly looking over our shoulders or toward the upcoming side tunnels. If any Hunters were down here, we wanted to see them before they attacked.\n\nSince I didn't have any knowledge of the city layout, I didn't know how far from the Archdiocese we were. These tunnels intersected and probably covered several miles. Without guidance it wasn't difficult to get lost. I imagined a person could walk in circles for days and die of starvation before finding a way out.\n\nWater splashed about twenty yards ahead of us. The four priests stopped and pressed themselves shoulder to shoulder, forming a tight human wall.\n\nI moved closer to them. \"What was that?\"\n\n\"An intruder,\" Lucas said.\n\n\"A Hunter?\"\n\n\"Possibly,\" he replied. \"We're less than two blocks from the cathedral.\"\n\nA large shadowed outline of a man moved past the lit sconce toward us and stopped.\n\n\"If it is one of them,\" I said, \"make certain you get the child to the archbishop.\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\nI jumped and stepped across the trench. Penelope followed without hesitation. The man remained near the light. I had the feeling that he stood in the path where we needed to go, and he didn't have any intention of moving. There wasn't anything we could do to avoid a confrontation with him.\n\nHe stepped away from the light and toward me. \"Hunter, give us the child. Whatever you had hoped to accomplish has failed. Your hope and your life ends here.\"\n\nI held my crossbow in my left hand aimed toward the rock floor. I raised my revolver and aimed for his chest. He was a massive man but a shot through the heart killed almost anything except the undead. He reared back his head and roared with laughter. I've never understood why someone would laugh when a loaded gun was pointed directly at him. Myself, I'd be looking for the quickest way to avoid getting shot. As large as he was, he wasn't swift enough to avoid the bullet's path or escape its speed, but he didn't seem to care. He kept laughing.\n\nMy finger tightened on the trigger, but the Hunter didn't make any effort to move. Before I squeezed the trigger, I was struck from my blindside, heaved into the air, and slammed to the ground on the other side of the trench. My crossbow dropped from my hand the moment I was hit. Upon landing, my gun jarred loose and slid across the floor until it hit the wall.\n\n\"Forrest!\" Penelope shouted.\n\n\"Son!\"\n\nSomething heavy landed atop me, pinning me down. I struggled to pull free, but my arms were wrapped tightly. I gnashed my teeth and growled, flexing my muscles, fighting to break free of his strong grip. I rolled to one side, pulling my assailant up slightly, and then I slung myself the opposite directions. His hold loosened enough that I was able to pull my right arm back and then I came around, clutching his throat. It was then I realized my attacker had been a second Hunter. Where he had come from, I didn't know because I had not seen anyone standing at the wall.\n\nTightening my grip around his neck, I slammed him against the wall a few feet from one of the torches. Both of his hands wrapped around my wrist as he fought to break my hold. I punched his gut several times with my left fist. He groaned and jerked with each blow. His throat muscles tightened and from the strange rasping sounds coming from his open mouth, his breathing was being cut off.\n\n\"Forrest, look out!\" Father said.\n\nI turned to the side, narrowly escaping the knife's blade. The knife thrown by the other Hunter struck the one I was choking in the chest, causing him to immediately release my wrist. His eyes widened as he realized what had happened. He slumped against the wall with his head bobbing slightly side to side. Instinctively, his hands made a feeble attempt to grip the hilt of the knife, but his zeal to fight was gone. His hands dropped to his sides. I watched the last moments of his life fade from his drooping eyes before I finally allowed his heavy body to collapse on the ground, which shoved the blade deeper into his chest.\n\nBefore the other Hunter attacked or threw another knife, I scooped my revolver off the ground. I turned toward him and fired. The bullet lodged into his shoulder. He growled in pain and rushed toward me. An arrow caught him in the throat. He staggered forward, gasping and wrapping his hand around the arrow shaft, but he kept coming. Anger and determination set in his crazed eyes.\n\nI rushed toward him and struck his jaw with a harsh right. He fell backwards. In spite of the arrow, he tried to catch himself before he hit the ground but failed. He landed on his back, and I planted my knee on his chest.\n\nHe snapped the arrow shaft flush at this throat. Blood spurted from the hole. He gasped. His eyes grew fierce. His voice deepened. \"You won't succeed. You cannot get past all of us.\"\n\n\"He's a child,\" I whispered near his ear.\n\n\"We know. That's why you must hand him over.\" He lifted his head off the floor, grabbed the arrow tip protruding out the back of his neck, and yanked it out before lowering his head. Blood spilled into a pool beneath him. Deep laughter rumbled in his throat, eventually going silent.\n\nI rose to my feet and glanced toward the priests. They had surrounded Madeline and Varak and stood with their backs toward her. They appeared ready to fight to protect her, even though they had no visible weapons.\n\nFather stepped beside me. He looked down and shook his head in regret. \"Two dead Hunters.\"\n\nNausea welled inside of me. Although I hadn't killed either one of them, I couldn't shake the guilt pressing down on me.\n\nPenelope frowned at the dead Hunter with disgust. \"Had to break my arrow, didn't you?\"\n\nI sighed. These Hunters wouldn't have come to Freiburg if I hadn't brought Varak. I walked over to pick up my crossbow, which by some miracle had not fired when I dropped it.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" Penelope asked.\n\n\"No. Hunters are dying because of me.\"\n\n\"Only because they are unwilling to look at your viewpoint,\" she replied.\n\nI shrugged. \"That doesn't matter. Vampire Hunters are not plentiful.\"\n\n\"And yet a dozen have shown here to oppose you?\" she asked.\n\nI glanced at Father. \"Have you ever heard of anything like this? A dozen Hunters seeking to execute another Hunter?\"\n\n\"No, son. Never. Nor have I seen more than a pair working together at a time, and that was to slay vampires, not one another.\"\n\nI felt tears burning in my eyes. My shoulders drooped. A dozen Hunters had been summoned to kill me. And three dead were because of me. I had never imagined I'd be on the wrong side of the Chosen. I hadn't been a Hunter for more than a year. The burden of what was occurring was too much to withstand.\n\nI was ready to surrender myself to the remaining Hunters and allow them to decide my fate before any more of them were killed. If protecting and keeping Varak alive was worthy of death, my life needed to end now. Perhaps I had carried this mission too far. I had tarnished my calling and was no longer worthy of being one of the Chosen.\n\n\"Forrest?\" Penelope said softly. She knelt beside the Hunter she had shot with an arrow.\n\nI looked at her. Surprise widened her eyes. \"What is it?\"\n\nShe took a deep breath and licked her lips. \"These men ... they're not Hunters.\"\n\nI frowned and came closer. \"What do you mean?\"\n\nFather stepped nearer, too.\n\n\"See this mark?\" She turned the man's hand palm up. On his wrist a dark symbol was inked into his skin. It resembled an eye, but not a human one. Something darker and evil.\n\n\"What is that?\" I asked.\n\n\"A demon mark. The Mark of Krowl. Check the other man.\"\n\nI hurried and turned his right hand up. The same mark was on this man's wrist, too.\n\nI whispered, \"If they're not Hunters, why do they want Varak?\"\n\n\"I don't believe these men have any intention to kill him.\"\n\n\"They want him because of what he is?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"They are the cult worshippers of the demon Krowl. At the very least, they've taken his mark in return for gain, depending upon their level of loyalty.\"\n\n\"Loyalty?\"\n\n\"Yes. They offer animal sacrifices to appease Krowl. The greater length they go to praise him, the larger their reward. These men are on the highest tier.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"They've been sent after Varak, knowing they must be willing to sacrifice their lives to get him. They cannot retreat. Krowl has probably blessed them and extracted all fear from their minds. They have no fear of dying. In their minds, death holds a great reward if they die while killing you.\"\n\n\"So there's nothing I can say to convince them to abandon their pursuit?\"\n\nShe shook their head. \"No. But if they get the child ... they will use his power to destroy everything the Papacy views as holy.\"\n\n\"The Papacy? Why?\"\n\n\"Because Jesuits discovered their cult years ago and tried to convert them. When they refused to worship in the manner the Jesuits insisted, the priests slaughtered nearly all of the Krowl worshippers as worthless infidels. A few dozen escaped.\"\n\n\"How do you know about this?\" Father asked.\n\n\"As a Demon-hunter, I seek out all the information I can find about the demons. I have ancient tomes stored and hidden at my homestead. Books my father purchased around the world while he was slaying vampires. He brought them to me as gifts. I've studied them thoroughly. My father warned me about this group and told me the story. The reason they know we're here and what Varak is, is because their minds have become attuned to Krowl's.\"\n\nI frowned. \"By attuned, do you mean that he speaks directly to them?\"\n\n\"Yes, and through them. He controls their minds and greatly influences their actions.\"\n\n\"Then Krowl knows these two men were killed?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid so.\"\n\nLucas and the other priests came to us. \"We can't stay in these tunnels any longer. We don't mind escorting you to the Archdiocese, but we aren't willing to sacrifice our lives by simply standing in one spot.\"\n\n\"I agree,\" I said.\n\n\"Too many passages converge into this one. If those two have already found you, the others will come soon,\" he said. \"We must go.\"\n\nHe turned and walked away. The priests walked ahead with Madeline close behind. Father lingered behind with us as we walked. I didn't believe we'd reach the cathedral without encountering more cultists. The two had been difficult to take down, but if Krowl had actually seen his servants die, he'd sent more than two the next time. A lot more than two.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirty-One\n\n\"Why are Krowl's zealots posing as Hunters?\" I asked.\n\n\"We might not ever know the true reason, but I think it is to confuse you,\" she said.\n\n\"Confuse me?\"\n\n\"You mentioned it before. A true Hunter wouldn't set out to kill another Hunter. For a dozen Hunters to come after you, threatening to kill you, that's more than enough to shake anyone's resolve. Hasn't that made you question whether you're doing the right thing by delivering Varak to the Archdiocese?\"\n\nI nodded.\n\nIt was exactly how I felt. I had come to the point of laying down my life for my disobedience in bringing Varak to Freiburg. Other than Albert's prediction of what the child would become, I had never been warned about sparing the hybrid. It had been sternly implied by Albert and myself. Even now, I hadn't received any direct insight to inform me of exactly what should be done. I only knew what I believed to be the right solution.\n\nAhead of us the tunnel brightened. I smelled burnt sulfur. A thin layer of smoke hung overhead. Fire flickered along the passageway floor. In between the building smoke and the rising flames, the large shadows of six zealots standing side by side loomed. All were dressed like Hunters and every one of them was an imposter.\n\nFather Lucas and the other priests stopped walking. They shielded Madeline and Varak behind themselves. Each priest took his silver cross in hand and held them up where these Krowl followers could see them, which gave me an idea.\n\nOne of the shadowed men said, \"Give us the child.\"\n\nI threw a globe-shaped bottle of holy water as hard as I could, striking the man's forehead. The glass shattered, splashing the water on his face and neck. Some of the holy water struck a man to each side of him. The man's limp body dropped.\n\nI didn't expect the holy water to have the same effect on these men as it would vampires, but it did something I had hoped might occur. The other two men dropped to their knees, clutching their heads in their hands, screaming at the top of their lungs.\n\n\"What did you do?\" Penelope asked.\n\n\"You said that Krowl was linked to their minds?\"\n\nShe nodded.\n\n\"I figured since priests used holy water when they excised demons, the water should work on these cultists as well.\" I pulled my silver cross from my pocket.\n\n\"But they're not possessed by evil spirits, Forrest,\" she said. \"He's only linking himself to their minds. It's not the same thing.\"\n\n\"Then how do you explain that?\" I pointed to the three men on their knees in anguish.\n\n\"I\u2014I don't know.\"\n\nI shrugged. \"I don't either. Maybe the holy water blocks his link?\"\n\nLucas glanced toward us with a confused stare.\n\n\"Do you know a rite of exorcism?\" Penelope asked him.\n\nHe nodded. \"Of course we do. Why?\"\n\n\"Forrest splashed them with holy water to sever the demon's control over them. Maybe if you excise it will finish breaking Krowl's bond with them.\"\n\nLucas turned toward the anguished men and chanted in Latin. The other three priests joined in. As their voices rose in unison, the cultists fell facedown on the floor in agony, squeezing the sides of their heads. They weren't about to recover enough to attack us anytime soon.\n\nI took my last bottle of holy water from my pocket and flung it toward the other three men who had stepped away from their ailing companions. The bottle struck the man's cheek. The impact knocked him unconscious. He dropped to the floor, but the bottle didn't break. The two men beside him leaned down and shook him, trying to awaken him. Getting no response, they turned toward us.\n\nPenelope fired an arrow into the closest man's chest. He gasped and spiraled around, but he didn't fall. His thick overcoat might have prevented the arrow from going deep enough to be fatal. By my estimate, she had missed his heart but had probably punctured his lung. Without my noticing she pulled another arrow and fired again. This arrow caught his shoulder. He clumsily spun and fell backwards into the burning debris on the floor. He wailed, tried to push himself out of the fire, but instead, he fell deeper into the flames.\n\nThe three cultists that the priests were chanting a rite over lay still. I didn't know if they were dead or not, but at least for now, we didn't need to worry about fighting them.\n\nThat left only one more who was uninjured in the tunnel we needed to be concerned about. With my silver cross dagger, I rushed toward the cultist and yelled at Lucas, \"Take Madeline and the baby into the Archdiocese!\"\n\nThe Krowl worshipper snarled at me. He widened his stance, expecting me to plow into him, but instead, I reached down for the unbroken vial of holy water. I uncorked it and flung most of the contents into his face. As he dropped to his knees, I pressed the silver cross to his forehead. Even though I didn't know a whole lot about combating demons, I had the impression they fled from whatever people believed to be holy.\n\nWhen the cross touched his flesh, he struggled momentarily. He clutched my wrist with both hands, but his fingers trembled too badly for him to maintain a strong enough grip. Before he collapsed into unconsciousness, a deep voice bellowed through the man's mouth in a language I didn't recognize.\n\nPenelope stood beside me. \"We need to catch up to them.\"\n\nI glanced around. \"Where's Father?\"\n\n\"He went with Madeline.\"\n\n\"Did you hear that strange voice?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Any idea what he said?\"\n\n\"Since it was Krowl, I imagine it wasn't good,\" she replied. \"Probably a curse.\"\n\nWe ran along the narrow path near the right-hand wall to avoid the smoldering debris. The fire had died down, but the smoke became a lot thicker. My eyes and throat burned. Tears blurred my vision, further obstructing my view through the smoky haze. Once we made our way outside the smoke-filled section of the tunnel, the priests' lanterns became visible. They were making their way up a spiral set of stairs.\n\nI wiped the tears from my eyes and slowed my pace, carefully searching through the shadows and behind us, wondering if more cultists might make a last effort to stop us, but none did.\n\nWe hurried up the stairs and stepped out inside the front entrance of the cathedral. Father stood next to Madeline and Varak. We stopped beside them near a large bowl of water. Burning candles flickered everywhere, on the walls, the tables, and railings, lighting the entire sanctuary. The vaulted ceilings seemed to rise forever without end, as the glow of the candles didn't carry that far.\n\nThe four priests were talking to a man wearing an elegant red robe in the wide center aisle. I assumed this to be the archbishop. The priests appeared to show humbleness as they stood before him. They spoke in hushed tones, occasionally glancing in our direction. After several minutes, the archbishop motioned us toward him.\n\nHe was tall, thin, and slightly stooped. His short gray hair was almost hidden beneath the tall mitre hat he wore. The smoothness of his face indicated he was probably in his early forties. His kind smile and peaceful gaze dispensed comfort, almost making you forget your deepest fears and worries. I had met few men with such charismatic appeal.\n\n\"According to Father Lucas,\" the archbishop said, \"you have incapacitated eight of the twelve cultists who have attempted to imprison us because of your intended arrival. You're safe in our sanctuary. They cannot pass through these doors.\"\n\n\"But they can,\" Penelope said.\n\nThe man shook his head and offered a kind smile. \"Child, you mustn't worry. They cannot. They arrived in a group of twelve. A cult's strength is strongest when they gather all thirteen of their highest council. They only brought twelve.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No. There are thirteen. Krowl is the thirteenth. He came with them. He was linked inside each of them.\"\n\nThe archbishop narrowed his eyes for a moment, thinking, and then he returned to his peaceful, reassuring smile. \"This is a holy sanctuary, blessed by God and our priests. The doors have been locked and secured. Even if the demon broke through the doors, he cannot cross the threshold into our cathedral.\"\n\n\"Krowl can,\" she said.\n\nThe archbishop's smile partially faded. He didn't like his authority challenged. His voice became angry. \"The demon you speak of cannot defile our holy sanctuary. I believe I know more about demons than you.\"\n\nA brief flash of anger stirred in her eyes. She took a quick deep breath, somehow calming herself. \"I'm a Demon-hunter. I've killed various types of demons. The majority of them cannot enter into your sanctuary, but Krowl is different. He can, and if you don't help me, he's going to burst through that door and kill all of us.\"\n\n\"How is he any different than other demons? How can he defile our cathedral and not be instantly destroyed by the holiness of our Lord?\"\n\n\"Because of the Papacy,\" she replied.\n\n\"What?\" the archbishop frowned. \"How dare you speak such blasphemy.\"\n\nFather Lucas stepped up and took her by the arm forcefully. \"It's time that you should leave.\"\n\nPenelope yanked free of his hold. \"No. I've not finished explaining. Krowl is a demon dedicated to destroying everything you hold holy. He has no fear of what you've blessed because of the Jesuit priests who slaughtered his worshippers.\"\n\n\"Those cultists were infidels, unbelievers, and worthy of the fate they received,\" the archbishop replied.\n\nShe shook her head. \"To call such judgment puts you into God's place, but you're not God. You're a man.\"\n\nThe four priests gasped in horror. They looked around in fear as if the earth would shake and lightning hurled from the ceilings.\n\nAnger tightened her brow. \"Krowl knows this. He sees this. His vile hatred and lust for revenge is far greater than your petty faith. He will take great pleasure in torturing you until you are dead. And unless I get your cooperation, he's coming to kill all of us, but especially you.\"\n\nFather Lucas frowned at her. \"We took care of eight of the cultists in the passageway. That should have made him weaker.\"\n\nShe smiled and shook her head. \"No, it has made him stronger.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"Krowl had possessed the twelve men, so his power and strength were spread out amongst them. Each time his power was cast out of one, the others increased in power. After driving Krowl out of the other eight, instead of us weakening him, we have allowed him to grow stronger inside the other four. He's outside the door. I sense him and his anger is growing, but if you'll help me, I can draw him out and kill him.\"\n\nLucas flicked his gaze to the archbishop. The pale archbishop wiped perspiration from his brow and nodded.\n\n\"What do you need?\" Lucas asked.\n\n\"Blessed salt. At least a pound of it,\" she replied.\n\nLucas motioned to one of the other priests. He hurried down a side aisle and through another door.\n\nPenelope lowered her quiver to the floor and untied a side pouch I'd never noticed. She removed her silver dagger with odd symbols etched into its blade and handle. \"Everyone clear the center aisle. This is where I plan to capture him.\"\n\nThe archbishop gave her a skeptical gaze. \"Capture him? Exactly what do you mean?\"\n\nShe didn't reply with word or gesture. Instead, she busied herself with various tools inside the pouch.\n\n\"Wait,\" I whispered to her.\n\n\"What, Forrest?\" She beamed with her cute smile. \"I don't have much time.\"\n\n\"You're not planning to use the symbol the healer gave you, are you?\"\n\n\"I'm left with little choice.\"\n\n\"It might not work or it might cause something more catastrophic.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No. I studied the one Flora had trapped those plague demons with. I believe the same circle will work. Trust me?\"\n\nWith my life, apparently. I looked at the archbishop. \"Just do what she says.\"\n\nHe held a strange side-glance toward me. His face flushed red, from anger I guessed. It was easy to see he didn't like someone else telling him what to do. At this point, I really didn't care. I wanted this demon destroyed before he had a chance to take Varak and commit horrible atrocities against mankind. Penelope was the best hope we had to destroy Krowl, provided she had been given the correct symbol to use.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirty-Two\n\nWe cleared the center aisle and positioned ourselves along the outer edge of the cathedral pews. I took a few minutes to admire the vaulted ceilings, the towering pillars, and the stained glass windows. The artwork was breathtaking. I'd been in a few cathedrals, but of all the ones I had ever entered, this was the most picturesque one. Great detail had been painstakingly patterned into every facet with untiring dedication.\n\nThe priest returned with a large bag of salt and handed it to Penelope. She untied the drawstring and carefully formed a large circle on the floor. The layer of salt was at least an inch thick and three inches wide. Once she finished the circle, she began making smaller symbols inside the circle. She paused after she completed each one, closed her eyes, and chanted before starting the next one.\n\nNo one spoke while she worked. I was too intrigued, wondering what each symbol meant. Her delicate artwork was quite exquisite and an amazing talent I wasn't aware that she possessed. After she finished, she walked to the altar, took three lit candles, and positioned them equal distance from one another around the outside of the circle. She studied her layout for several moments. She walked to the edge of the circle and seemed careful not to allow the toes of her shoes to touch the salt. She outstretched her left hand over the salt symbols and pricked her finger with the dagger until several drops of blood dropped, combining with the salt.\n\nThe four priests and the archbishop looked appalled. They frowned with curiosity, whispering amongst themselves.\n\nPenelope positioned herself between the salt circle and the altar. \"Everyone be prepared. He's coming.\"\n\nThe front entrance doors rattled, shook. The intensity increased, shaking with violent urgency. The priests looked at one another in terror as the doors splintered inward and showered into millions of tiny wood fragments. The last four cultists stood side by side at the threshold. These men appeared much larger than all the others. Pure evil hardened their faces. Their attention was on Penelope, but none of them moved.\n\n\"See?\" the archbishop said. His voice was haughty. His smile was more prideful than a humble man's should be. He stood, holding his elegant staff in hand. \"They cannot come inside.\"\n\nPenelope ignored him.\n\nNo sooner had he spoken the words than did these four men rush through the door. The archbishop released a high-pitched scream. His staff clattered on the floor.\n\nThe four men ran down the center aisle straight for Penelope. All four spoke in unison with loud bellowing voices that weren't theirs and echoed off the walls and the vaulted ceiling. It was Krowl speaking through all of them. \"Today your blood spills as a sacrifice to me unless you kneel and offer me your homage.\"\n\nTwo of the priests fainted between the pews. The other two paled and held their crosses out before them. The archbishop was stunned. He lowered himself into the pew. His lips trembled. When he glanced toward me, I shook my head with disappointment. I wondered why Albert wanted the child to be brought to this particular cathedral. This man was a coward and apparently lacked real faith in his god.\n\n\"Neither are happening, Krowl,\" Penelope said sternly.\n\nThe four men stood near the circle but dared not attempt to cross it.\n\nShe raised her hands and spoke phrases in Latin. The hundreds of burning candles in the sanctuary were snuffed in an instant. We stood in complete darkness. A deep guttural growl bellowed near where Penelope stood in the aisle. Bluish-white flickering sparks permeated off a giant demon's horn-covered back. Full of muscle and thickly scaled skin, Krowl towered ten feet in height. His hideous face had sharp tusks that hung from his odd shaped mouth. Drool dripped from his mouth. He was the most hideous creature I had ever seen.\n\nPenelope stood less than a foot away from him, unafraid. To me, it seemed he could have struck her with the palm of his hand and probably killed her instantly, but he didn't budge. He was trapped inside the salt symbol she had drawn, frozen.\n\nShe lifted the dagger high in her right hand. \"To the abyss!\"\n\n\"Fool!\" Krowl shouted, writhing in pain as flames licked up from the floor and blazed around his legs. \"Banishing me to the abyss has sealed your fate for far worse curses in your life. You shall know undying misery. You foolish, foolish girl!\"\n\nThe flames rose and engulfed him. He released a high-pitched howl, bursting several of the stain-glassed windows. In an instant, he vanished.\n\nThe two conscious Priests rushed with their lanterns toward the center aisle. The four men lay dead on the floor. Apparently when he was pulled from their minds, they were unable to withstand it.\n\nPenelope lay on the floor. I hurried and knelt beside her. She was panting. Her eyes were closed. Sweat covered her face. What she had done seemed to have drained her strength. She was exhausted. I sat beside her, and she curled herself against me, resting her head against my chest.\n\n\"I told you it would work,\" she said with a wide grin.\n\n\"That you did.\"\n\nThe two priests began lighting candles.\n\nFather came to us. \"Are you okay?\"\n\nShe gave a slight nod.\n\nAfter a few minutes, the archbishop found the courage to stand and left the bench where he had sat terrified while she banished the demon.\n\n\"What is this magic you have cast within our sanctuary?\" he demanded.\n\n\"What?\" I asked, glaring at him.\n\n\"No magic,\" she said weakly.\n\n\"The symbol,\" he replied. \"Your blood offering upon it. These are things witches perform, not saints. Not Christians.\"\n\nPenelope took a deep breath, frowned. She attempted to push herself up but still didn't have adequate strength. \"I am not a witch. I'm a Demon-hunter.\"\n\nThe archbishop glanced around the sanctuary. \"Where are the others of your coven?\"\n\n\"Coven?\" she said. \"I have no coven.\"\n\n\"You must. Where are the other twelve? Otherwise, you'd not possess such power.\"\n\n\"You said that about Krowl's circle, too,\" she said softly. \"Thirteen for power? Is that what you consider a coven to be?\"\n\n\"Yes. It's what the Papacy has known for centuries. Twelve is the absolute,\" he replied. \"Thirteen is\u2014\"\n\n\"Is it now?\" Penelope replied, finding enough strength to sit on her knees. Fury creased her brow. \"Then what you claim as reasons for your faith is nothing more than covens, too.\"\n\n\"How dare you make such claims. You blasphemer.\"\n\n\"It's in your scriptures,\" she replied. \"Twelve tribes of Israel plus one God equals thirteen. Jesus and twelve disciples equals thirteen. Is that not the same mathematics you're using?\"\n\nThe archbishop paled. His posture stiffened and his jaw tightened. Perhaps he had never looked at those groups in the same light as she described. He didn't offer a rebuttal.\n\n\"You seem resentful that I was the one who banished him and not you,\" she said. \"But it's not a competition. I don't cast evil spirits out. I kill or banish demons. When they are banished they are trapped inside a fiery pocket in the center of the earth where they cannot escape. What you and your fellow priests do by excising the evil spirits you incorrectly call demons doesn't kill them, it sends them out to find a new host to possess. You don't eliminate the problem. Instead you allow the demon to torment another poor soul.\"\n\n\"I watched you add your blood to whatever you had drawn on the floor. How is that not magic? Dark sorcery?\" he asked with a less accusatory tone. \"And do you not use a spell of some sort?\"\n\n\"No different than any prayer you offer for blessings, healing, or a divine touch.\"\n\n\"Are you comparing yourself with me?\" he asked in a condescending manner.\n\n\"Not at all,\" she replied.\n\nFather looked at me. \"Are you certain we should leave Varak with this man? A man who has no appreciation for what Penelope has done to save not only our lives, but his? She risked her life to confront Krowl and banish him, and rather than acknowledging her success, he's retorted with accusations and condemnation. I've never seen such an ungrateful sack of bones in my entire life, and one who considers himself holy at that. He's a disgrace for what the Archdiocese deserves to have as an Archbishop, and I perceive nothing holy about him.\"\n\nThose words cut deep. The archbishop looked genuinely disconcerted and hurt. His sad eyes regarded each of us, one by one. \"My apologies. You're right. I've placed my authority equal to God and unfairly judged your actions.\"\n\n\"True,\" I replied. \"You did. And even worse is your cowardice after the demon appeared. Surely one who believes in the power of his God would not have trembled in the presence of something that should be considered weaker. Yet, you did, and two of your priests fainted. I view you as someone far less worthy of the position granted to you by the ones who placed you in this cathedral.\"\n\nI stood and helped Penelope to her feet. Even after she stood, she clung tightly to my hand. Her legs were still weak and without holding onto me, she'd have collapsed. I helped her to the closest pew where she quickly sat down.\n\n\"I oversee a lot of issues as the archbishop, within the church and with city officials, but understand that it's not every day a priest or bishop expects to encounter a fiendish demon from the pits of Hell. Even those of us who excise demons must have a pure heart by offering penance and confessing our sins before our Lord. Without doing so, we are not worthy challengers to even rebuke the weakest demon. If we're not spotless and without blemish, an unleashed demon can rip us to shreds or worse, it can possess us.\"\n\nI frowned. \"Are you saying that you weren't afraid of Krowl?\"\n\n\"No. I was terrified.\"\n\n\"Because you lack faith?\"\n\n\"No. As I said, I had not offered penance or confessed my sins for the day.\"\n\n\"And what sins would a man of your status be subjected to?\" I asked.\n\n\"Every man is assaulted by various lusts and stray thoughts, even I. Entertaining such thoughts for a long amount of time is considered sin in itself. Gaining excess money, power, or even misleading others are dangerous temptations, especially when the one who benefits from these actions are intentionally committing them. Some would also say even if they aren't intentional, they are sin just the same.\"\n\n\"And such are what held you back this evening?\" I asked.\n\nHe shook his head. \"No. I'm simply expressing there's a wild array of enticements. Minds wander. Had I known I was about to face a demon face-to-face, I could have been prepared. But, since Krowl emerged through his believers, my mind was racing to determine if I could face him.\"\n\nI didn't believe him. What I had seen was genuine fear, and that wasn't something so easily dismissed. But he was in a high position within the Catholic Church and was trying to find a redeemable way to make his actions seem less cowardice. Reacting in fear like he had wasn't easily counterfeited. It was real. Since I was tired and didn't wish to be in Freiburg any longer than necessary, I decided not to press the issue further. He held no authority over me, so his spinelessness wasn't necessarily my concern.\n\nThe archbishop offered a friendly smile. \"I realize I've made a horrible first impression, and for that, I simply ask your forgiveness. I'm sincerely sorry for my behavior.\" The archbishop tucked his chin to his chest and closed his eyes.\n\nI glanced toward Father and then to Penelope. Both shrugged. I believed they were as exhausted and ready to leave as I was.\n\n\"Accepted,\" I replied.\n\nThe archbishop opened his eyes. Both Father and Penelope nodded toward him. \"You truly are gracious. You've traveled a long distance to bring me this child. The only forewarning of your arrival was Krowl's cultists who had come to take him by force. The child must be of some importance for a demon to bring twelve men to try to kill you. Do you mind explaining exactly why the demon wanted him and why this particular place was chosen?\"\n\nSadly, the archbishop could never know the truth about the child. The consequences were too severe. I shook my head. \"Penelope should have asked while she held him captive in the circle and before she banished him forever.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"You don't know?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid that knowledge went into the abyss with the demon.\"\n\n\"Then what is your purpose for bringing him to this Archdiocese?\"\n\n\"He's an orphan,\" I replied.\n\n\"Yes, Father Lucas informed me. But our curiosity begs one question, 'Why this cathedral?'\"\n\n\"It was a request, and nothing more can I provide. What matters is that we've fulfilled our part by getting him here safely,\" I replied.\n\n\"And why should I accept this child? Do you realize the cost of rearing a child and having someone nurture and oversee the child's welfare?\"\n\n\"Varak has a caretaker. Madeline is more than happy to tend to his needs.\"\n\nMadeline walked over to us, rocking the boy in her arms. Varak slept in absolute peace with a little smile curled on his lips.\n\nThe archbishop stared down at the child and then to her. \"Is this true? You'll care for the child if we provide a place for him?\"\n\nShe smiled eagerly, in spite of the tears moistening her eyes. \"Of course. I cannot picture my life without him.\"\n\nA tender smile came to his face. He could tell the love she held for the child, as could we, but in ways, I wondered if her love wasn't actually an obsession.\n\nA short time later, Father Lucas showed us to the rooms where we could stay the night. I had insisted we get rooms in town, but the priests assured us that all the inns had closed for the night. I was content knowing we had succeeded in getting the hybrid child to Freiburg, and more elated to learn that I hadn't been the direct target of other Hunters. However, my sleep wasn't any more peaceful.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirty-Three\n\nThe following morning the priests were gracious enough to fill my empty vials with holy water. They had witnessed how effective a weapon it was against the cultists, but after I explained how it aided me against vampires, they were happy to bless as much water as I needed.\n\nWe left the Archdiocese and walked to the nearest lodge where we could buy a hearty breakfast. We discussed our plans to reach Schaffhausen to slay Ambrose. A train could get us to the city within a few hours. Father expressed selling the horse and coach so we weren't constantly reminded of Thomas. In a way, I agreed, but I didn't want to dismiss Thomas' contribution for how close he had gotten us to Freiburg. It was a shame he had died like he had, but dying from the plague would have been far worse.\n\nWith Madeline remaining at the Archdiocese, we were down to three, which was more manageable and reduced our costs greatly.\n\nAs we rose to leave, Penelope noticed a newspaper on the table next to ours. The two sailors who had been eating at the table had gone and left the paper behind. Strangely the newspaper was from America and the date more recent than I might have expected, being as no one could have traveled to Schaffhausen from the west coast of America in so little time.\n\nPenelope read the headlines about a great fire in Seattle, Washington in the United States. She scanned through the various photographs in the newspaper. Her eyes widened.\n\n\"What is it?\" I asked.\n\nShe pointed at the photo. \"Look.\"\n\nI frowned, looking closer, nodding. \"The city was engulfed in flames. What else am I missing?\"\n\n\"The demon. Don't you see him? In the midst of the flames.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"No.\"\n\nShe gasped.\n\n\"What's wrong?\"\n\nPenelope looked at me with fear in her eyes. She pointed to different places in the photograph. \"There are dozens of them, Forrest. The fire that burned Seattle occurred because a portal to Hell had been opened.\"\n\n\"What?\" I asked, slightly grinning.\n\n\"You don't believe me?\" She looked hurt. \"Do you think I'd jest about that?\"\n\n\"I don't see any demons in the photographs,\" I replied. \"Honest.\"\n\nShe bit her lower lip and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she studied the pictures again, shaking her head. \"Maybe you can't see them because you aren't a Demon-hunter?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"I suppose that could be why. But I really don't see them. I see fire, smoke, and steam from the water hitting the flames. Nothing else. Sorry. But did you notice the date of the paper?\"\n\nShe glanced at it. \"So? You think this is a hoax?\"\n\n\"It might be. I cannot see how a traveler from America could arrive here in such a short amount of time. That would be beyond record time for the world's fastest ship. It cannot be done.\"\n\n\"Perhaps it's a sign by a higher force, giving me the information so I can act quickly.\"\n\n\"Or it's a trap.\"\n\n\"A trap? How and by whom?\" she asked.\n\n\"Penelope, you just banished a powerful demon who placed a curse upon you before it was silenced from our world.\"\n\n\"And you think this newspaper would be the curse? The story is very troubling.\"\n\nI shrugged. \"I don't know much about curses and how they work.\"\n\nShe stared at the paper for several minutes, flipping from page to page, and then she neatly folded it where the front story was the only article visible. \"Forrest, I don't think it's a curse. I believe there's a reason I've been given the information, even though, like you said, it doesn't seem possible to get this newspaper so quickly except my help is required.\"\n\n\"In what way, Penelope?\" I asked, taking her hand into mine.\n\n\"To seal it? I'm not sure, but I have to travel to Seattle to be certain.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"If the portal has been opened and hasn't been closed, the world edges toward total destruction. Come with me?\"\n\nFather frowned at her. \"We have plans to take the train to Schaffhausen. Can't this wait until after\u2014\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"No. Don't you understand how dangerous such a portal is?\"\n\n\"I imagine it presents an enormous danger.\" I rubbed my thumb against the back of her hand. \"Penelope, as much as I want to help, I'm not a Demon-hunter. Father isn't either. We'd be useless in such a battle.\"\n\nShe placed her hands over her eyes and shook her head. After a few seconds, she pulled back her hair and paced the floor. \"It's my duty to go, Forrest.\"\n\n\"It's suicide if you go alone,\" I said. \"Please stay with us? After we slay Ambrose, we'll all travel to Seattle. We'll have more than enough money to board a fast ship.\"\n\nPenelope looked at me. She was torn inside. Her eyes reflected her inner turmoil. \"I want to, Forrest. I think I'm falling in ... No, I am in love with you. I've never felt this way before.\"\n\nFather's face reddened. He gave me a hopeful smile and walked out the door, giving us added privacy.\n\n\"Penelope, I've never felt this strongly about anyone else, either,\" I replied. \"I know I love you, too. Father and I have vowed to slay Ambrose. We could use your help. Had Lorcan not already given us a deposit, we'd leave with you now. Accompany us, and once we've slain him, we will sail with you to Seattle.\"\n\nI pulled her close and embraced her. She buried her face against the center of my chest. Hot tears soaked into my undershirt.\n\n\"We cannot wait that long,\" she said. \"As it is, even if I leave on a ship tomorrow, it will be months before I reach Seattle. By then, I might be too late.\"\n\nI hugged her tighter and whispered into her ear. \"Then don't go. Won't Demon-hunters nearer to Seattle be alerted and travel there to eradicate these demons?\"\n\nPenelope pulled back and looked up into my eyes. \"It's possible, but again, the dangers of an open portal to Hell are catastrophic.\"\n\n\"If you're the only one who arrives in Seattle, the portal will have been opened for at least three months before you can get a chance to close it.\"\n\n\"It's better than no one sealing it at all.\"\n\n\"Do you even know how to seal a portal?\" I asked.\n\nShe looked away.\n\n\"You don't, do you?\"\n\nHer eyes flicked to mine. \"I'll find a way.\"\n\n\"Won't demons guard and protect the portal, so more of their kind can pass through?\"\n\nHer tiny shoulders shrugged. \"I don't know, Forrest. I've never dealt with a situation like this before.\"\n\n\"All the more reason why you don't need to go alone.\"\n\nShe sighed. \"I don't see any alternative. I must obey my instinct and my calling.\"\n\nI recognized the determination in her eyes. I couldn't talk her out of going or delaying her departure. I forced a smile and embraced her tightly. With her in my arms, I ached terribly inside. Tears etched down my cheeks. I shook, and her arms tightened around my waist. She sobbed, too.\n\nI paid for our breakfast, and we met Father outside. He stood in a corner of the building smoking his pipe outside of the brisk wind. When his gaze met mine, his eyes saddened. I suppose he read the pain in my eyes.\n\n\"What's your decision?\" he asked her.\n\nPenelope bit her lower lip and looked away.\n\n\"Father, do you mind letting us have some time to ourselves?\"\n\nHe puffed his pipe, offered a forced smile, and nodded. \"I will go get the horse and coach and see if I can get a decent offer at one of the stables. Where shall we meet later?\"\n\nI pulled my watch from my pocket and checked the time. \"Here, for lunch?\"\n\nHe nodded. The sadness in his eyes didn't lessen, but he didn't try to persuade Penelope with arguments. I imagine he expected I already had. He turned and walked down the street.\n\nShe and I took a short walk, found a bench, and in spite of the cold winter wind, we sat huddled together. Few words were exchanged between us. We held one another close, and after neither of us could shed any more tears, I stared into her beautiful eyes for the longest time. I couldn't shake the hurt inside. I had told her how much I loved her and how I needed her to be a part of my life. Nothing persuaded her to stay, even though she said that she felt the same. I felt like there was more I needed to tell her, but I had said everything I could think of. I suppose there aren't any proper sequences of words that can explain the cries of a tattered heart as it struggles to piece itself whole once more.\n\nShe placed her hand to my cheek and smiled. I swallowed hard, trying to make the painful lump in my throat disappear. I leaned closer to her, and we shared our first real kiss. Her warm lips were soft and salty from her tears. A flood of emotions poured through me as her lips pressed against mine and she wrapped her arms around my neck. If I could have picked a moment to last forever, this would have been it.\n\nI wrapped my arms around her waist and never wanted to let her go. I loved everything about her and feared releasing her. But it was getting close to noon. The sun slipped behind thick dismal clouds. \"Are you certain you cannot wait until after Father and I kill the vampire?\"\n\nShe placed both hands on my cheeks. Fresh tears dampened her eyes. \"I want to, truly I do, but what if you learned about a city being overrun by vampires. Would you stay with me or go fulfill the duty you've been chosen to do?\"\n\nI closed my eyes, unable to answer.\n\n\"See?\" she said. \"You'd do what you needed to do and what you believed was required of you.\"\n\nI nodded. I tried to sound bold, but the tears and pain fractured my voice. \"Penelope, we've not known one another long, but I've never wanted to part ways since we've met. I certainly didn't expect one of us to leave this soon.\"\n\nShe leaned her head against my chest and sighed. She didn't say anything more. I stood and hefted her in my arms, carrying her back to the lodge. Father stood in the corner out of the wind, cleaning out his pipe. He had my Hunter box and her quiver. How he managed to bring all of our belongings by himself was beyond me.\n\nPenelope stepped inside the lodge to get our table while I helped Father gather our things.\n\n\"I sold the horse and coach. Not for what they were worth, but we're pressed for time\u2014\"\n\n\"That's good, Father. Something's better than nothing.\"\n\nFather asked a lot of questions, but I hurt too much inside to offer any answers. He nodded and offered a sympathetic smile. \"When you need to talk, son, I'll be here to listen. Heartaches are hell.\"\n\nI felt lost and numb inside. My stomach ached worse than any other time I could remember. I wanted to hold her so badly and never let her go, but I knew I couldn't. It wouldn't be right. She'd resent me if I kept her from going.\n\nI had even considered getting rooms for the night and hoped by morning, a new premonition might occur to convince her to stay. But I feared if we stayed together another night, we'd give into our intimacy for one another to consume our sorrow. I wasn't anywhere near ready in my mind to leap that chasm, especially since we were parting ways, and perhaps she wasn't either, even though we both seemed to be dying on the inside.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirty-Four\n\nWhile we sat at the table for lunch, I had no appetite at all. I was experiencing the worst stomach and chest pains imaginable, so I pushed my plate aside. Whenever I glanced toward her, tears burned my eyes. Tears leaked down her cheeks. I tried to speak, but no words came. Even Father didn't attempt to start conversation. He face was flushed. He wasn't able to look at either of us.\n\nAfter the quietest lunch ever, Father and I walked her to the river's dock where she purchased a ticket. Father stood beside me on the dock. Penelope took my hands and stared into my eyes. Sadness and regret filled her eyes.\n\n\"Are you certain you cannot delay your departure until after we slay Ambrose?\" I asked.\n\nShe shook her head. \"I wish I could.\"\n\nI considered abandoning the pursuit of Ambrose until later, but I had already taken Lorcan's deposit. I'm certain the vampire would consider that theft, if he learned we had left for North America.\n\n\"I want you to have these,\" she said, untying the goggles from around her neck. \"I know how much you like them.\"\n\nI shook my head. \"Penelope ... I can't take these. You need them when you're fighting.\"\n\nShe placed them into my hands and closed my fingers over them. \"I can get another pair. Besides, I want you to have something to remember me until I return.\"\n\n\"Do you really think I could ever forget you, Penelope? I never shall. You possess my heart, and still I ask that you wait until we can accompany you.\"\n\nShe rose on tiptoe and kissed my lips softly. I leaned down and we kissed more passionately. When she pulled back, she said, \"This isn't goodbye, Forrest. It's just that I need obey what I know in my heart I must do. Like you did when you brought Varak to the Archdiocese in spite of all the obstacles. Our paths will cross again.\"\n\nPenelope hurried toward the plank. I noticed Father wiping away tears as she boarded the ship. I ached inside even though I could still see her, but seeing her walking away, getting farther from my touch, I thought my heart would cease beating or explode from the intensifying ache. Inside, I wanted to run after her. I should have gone with her to help her like she had helped us.\n\nShe had promised once she had gone and sealed the portal in Seattle that she would board the next ship and sail to meet me in Bucharest. I feared it would never happen. I didn't believe I'd ever see her again. My doubts reinforced my former oath to walk this world alone and not to give my heart to another.\n\nPenelope had helped us get Varak to Freiburg and safely inside the Archdiocese where the archbishop and nuns could protect him. We had protected the child against great odds and from the attack of a dozen demon cultists, which had forced Penelope to kill a powerful demon that had marked her with a curse. But I had never fathomed she'd leave my side to become vulnerable to something she considered an actual threat. I had thought we'd fight the battles together.\n\nWe were both similar in our projected dark destinies. Before it was revealed that the cultists weren't actual Hunters who had been sent to kill me because I had committed a major transgression against the Chosen, I had accepted that my punishment was being issued. I was to compensate for what could be no less than direct disobedience against those who had called me into their Order as a Vampire Hunter. The dangers of allowing a half-blood vampire human was too great a risk and worthy of my death. Because of that, I feared tremendous loss in my life, overshadowing doom, and heartache unlike what I was experiencing right now. Deep inside, I truly didn't believe I'd escape unscathed for protecting Varak. Bad events were coming. I sensed it. And Penelope could become my first painful loss.\n\nA day away from her would be painful, but the voyage along various rivers and across the seas was months in one direction. I didn't have any way to reach her or to know the outcome when she eventually faced the demons. All I could do was wonder what had occurred until ... if  ... we ever met again. Could she get the portal sealed before a horde of demons killed her? Evil spirits had never possessed her, but from what I understood, these demons must be stronger than any she had faced before if they torn open a portal from Hell.\n\nFather and I stood, waving. Penelope waved back. After a half hour of watching the ship sail down the river, Father wiped tears from his eyes. \"I'm sorry, son. There was nothing to convince her to stay?\"\n\n\"No, Father. She holds to her obligations as stubbornly as I do. I suppose we were right for one another.\" My voice broke, and I wiped tears from my eyes.\n\nFather sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. \"There are no words at a time like this. I'm sorry.\"\n\nI shrugged and stared at the spectacles she had given me.\n\n\"Come on,\" he said. \"Let me buy you a drink. It won't erase your pain, but it might numb it a bit.\"\n\nI clasped my father's shoulder. \"No, Father. That's okay. I need to experience this pain and hope it eases over time. Numbing it only prolongs it.\"\n\nHe smiled. His bloodshot eyes remained wet from his crying. \"Son, you are indeed a man.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirty-Five\n\nThere are many levels of pain. Some are physical injuries that heal slowly over time. Those brutal inflictions to the heart and mind and soul seldom heal enough to completely vanish. They might fade, but often memories jar and bump the bruise again, causing the tenderness to swell. An anguish soul never heals. One just has to deal with it the best way possible.\n\nThe first two days aboard the train were steady but slow. I believed we could have ridden on horseback to our destination faster than the steam engine train traveled, but not during the harsh winter weather.\n\nFather and I sat across from one another. He read a couple of books he had purchased before our departure in Freiburg and seldom spoke while I stared out the window thinking about Penelope. I was thankful for the quiet and enjoyed the scenery outside the window.\n\nI reserved crying until after he had fallen asleep. Tears seemed the greatest comfort, and I wondered about Penelope and how she was faring. I felt absurd, wondering if she had already forgotten me. Her absence hurt so much.\n\nI stared at my Hunter box between my feet and thought back to the night when the vampire had attacked Father, and I had learned my fate. While I had faulted my father for several months for not having told me sooner, I understood why he had not and his purpose for not doing so. I was his son, his only child. All he wanted was to protect me from the grief and agony that came from being a Vampire Hunter. His delay had not been strictly from selfishness or jealousy, as I had believed. It was parental love in its purest form.\n\nThe train pulled into the Schaffhausen station a few hours before sunset. As we stepped off the train, Father said, \"Did you enjoy the ride?\"\n\n\"It was pleasant enough,\" I said, tightening my coat collar and straightening my hat to brace myself from the harsh cold wind.\n\nHe tapped tobacco into his pipe and smiled. \"I tried not to disturb you since you have so much on your mind.\"\n\n\"I appreciate that, Father.\"\n\nFather lighted his pipe and puffed small streams of smoke. \"Shall we find an inn first?\"\n\nI nodded. \"That would be good. We get settled first, find somewhere to dine, and then follow that map to where Ambrose's lair is. Provided Lorcan has been honest with us.\"\n\n\"You're skeptical about everything, son.\"\n\n\"It pays to be if you wish to live a long life. Besides, he's a vampire, and I will never trust one of them.\"\n\n\"When do you wish to attempt to slay him?\" Father asked.\n\n\"If his lair is where the map indicates, we do it while it's still daylight. I'd rather stake him while he's resting in his coffin. Quicker, quieter, and easier.\"\n\nFather grinned.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"You only want to get this done faster so you can take a ship to catch up with Penelope.\"\n\nI shrugged. \"I do, but we still have to collect the bounty from Lorcan before I can consider sailing to Seattle. We cannot afford to leave any loose ends. Besides, such a trip will be costly since we have no idea how long we'll need to reside in America. We'll need the rest of the money.\"\n\n\"That's true.\"\n\nBy the time we found an inn and put our belongings inside, the sun was an hour from setting. We happened upon a man who had a horse harnessed to a small wagon. He was young, probably still in his late teens, and lanky. He offered us a ride near our destination for a small fee. I gladly accepted because with Father's stiff legs, it'd take us three times longer on foot.\n\nAfter a half hour, the driver turned toward us. \"From where have you two traveled?\"\n\n\"London,\" I replied.\n\n\"You've journeyed far,\" he replied.\n\n\"We have.\"\n\nHe frowned. \"What's your interest in this old mountain trail? Most folks in the city won't come anywhere near the trail. They believe the surrounding woods are haunted. A lot of tourists have come to this trail but most have never returned.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Father asked.\n\n\"Yes. Near the top, I am told, is a cave that overlooks the Rhine River. But with all the stories, I'd never attempt walking along the trail. I certainly would never enter the cave.\"\n\nHe stopped the wagon near an old cemetery. Most of the carved grave markers were crude crosses. \"This is as far as I will take you. My old horse, if he gets spooked, I'd never catch him. I could, however, wait for your return down the mountain, if you'd like. Money upfront, of course, being as so few ever return.\"\n\nI smiled and shook my head. \"No, thanks. We might be here for a while.\"\n\nHis eyes widened. \"Overnight?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"Depends upon the circumstances.\"\n\nThe young man shook his head. \"No amount of money could tempt me to stay out here in the dark.\"\n\n\"Then you had best hurry,\" Father said.\n\nThe driver laughed nervously. He tapped the reins several times and made the horse turn around. \"When you return to the city, if you need my services again, you can find me at the same place.\"\n\nI waved. \"Thanks. Be safe.\"\n\n\"Worry more for yourselves!\" He snapped a whip over the horse's head, making the horse move even faster.\n\nFather glanced toward the narrow road that wound along the river's edge and then abruptly cut upward through tall leafless trees. The steep incline looked to be more than Father could handle. He gave me a nervous glance.\n\n\"I can go inspect it, Father, if you'd like?\"\n\nHe sternly shook his head, which I expected. \"I'll be fine. Ever since that hot bath at Lorcan's castle, my legs haven't hurt as badly.\"\n\n\"Is that so?\"\n\nHe nodded.\n\n\"Let's see if we can reach the area where the road levels off. That might be where the cave is.\" I placed my crossbow into a holster on the back of my coat, picked up my Hunter box, and walked ahead of him.\n\nAfter fifteen minutes of brisk walking, sweat rolled off me in spite of the cold. Somehow, Father had managed to keep up with me. He panted and puffed, wiping profuse sweat from his face with his handkerchief.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" I asked.\n\nHe leaned forward, placing his hands on his knees, and took several deep gulps of air. \"Never better.\"\n\nI grinned and released a deep laugh.\n\nFather frowned and pointed a shaking finger. \"Since my legs were crushed, I should add.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" I said.\n\n\"I did keep up with you, and considering everything else, that's pretty good for your old man.\"\n\n\"You did great. At least going down will be easier,\" I replied.\n\nFather glanced at the steep descending path and wiped his brow again, shaking his head. He mumbled curses under his breath.\n\nAt the sharp curve of the road was a clear view of the Rhine River. Roaring water echoed where the falls cascaded. Clouds of water spray hung in the air, and even though the winter air was frosty, I almost wanted to swim after the exhausting climb we had endured.\n\nThe road split to the left and the right at the top of the hill. The tall leafless trees forked their way into the darkening sky. At the end of the left path was a dark oval cut into the side of the rocks. If the map was true, this was Ambrose's lair.\n\nI thought it odd that Ambrose would choose a cave for a lair when Lorcan had an entire castle. Of course, from what the young driver had told us, people believed the area to be haunted, which allowed more privacy, but still ... a cave?\n\nI sat on a large boulder and patted the area beside me. \"Let's rest for a few minutes. That climb took a lot out of me.\"\n\n\"Me, too.\"\n\nWiping sweat from my brow, I said, \"The morning would be better for us to slay him, Father.\"\n\nHe panted and shrugged. \"But we're here now. Why ride out tonight if you wanted to wait until morning.\"\n\nI chuckled. \"For one, I didn't really believe a cave existed up here. And if we didn't find one, we could easily camp the night and catch a ride back to town in the morning.\"\n\n\"So what now? Inspect the cave or camp out?\"\n\nI stared at the cave entrance for several moments. It seemed quiet. Even though it was dark enough outdoors, most vampires didn't tend to rise until closer to midnight. I suppose there was no hard tenet for that, but it would be best to know the size of the cave ahead of time and since it was still early, I doubted we'd encounter vampires near the opening.\n\n\"I want to look inside the cave.\"\n\n\"Now?\" Father's brow rose and his eyes widened.\n\nI nodded.\n\nFather took his handkerchief and wiped sweat from his face. The fear in his eyes was evident even in the darkness. His breathing changed, too. He was nervous.\n\nI opened my box, took out my revolver, and checked the chamber. Loaded. I slid it into my coat pocket. I grabbed two weighted stakes.\n\n\"Here,\" Father said, placing the sack of gold marks into the box. \"I don't want to lose them if we're forced to run.\"\n\nI nodded.\n\n\"That's a lot of holy water,\" Father said, still wiping sweat from his brow.\n\n\"Let's hope we don't need to use it all tonight.\" I slid several bottles into my pocket.\n\nHe glanced nervously toward the cave opening. \"You think we will?\"\n\n\"I really don't believe we're going to encounter any vampires this early in the night, but we need to prepare ourselves, just in case.\" I handed him two vials of holy water. Dusk was settling over us. \"Let's go.\"\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirty-Six\n\nI adjusted the straps on the spectacles Penelope had given me, so they'd fit my large head properly. Instantly, everything around me appeared to be surrounded by light. Right inside the ominous cave I found an oil lantern left by the last victim that had dared to enter. The skeletal remains of his hand and arm were still attached to the lantern.\n\nI shook the lantern and the finger bones dropped to the dusty cave floor. I wanted to inspect the cave while we were here. There was enough oil in the lantern to burn at least a half hour, which I hoped was more than adequate time to slay Ambrose and leave when we returned in the morning light.\n\nFather struck a match against the cave wall and lit the wick. I let him hold the lantern, and I adjusted the Penelope's night goggles to fit my head and put them on. With the goggles I had no need of the lantern, but Father did.\n\nStrange scraping sounds fluttered and whooshed outside the cave. We peered out to see large winged creatures circling the trees. They looked like giant bats. Some of them flitted toward the bare tree branches, attached their clawed feet around the limbs, and hung upside down.\n\n\"In God's name,\" Father whispered.\n\n\"I don't think they're associated with God,\" I replied.\n\nFather gave me an angered side-glance. \"Nor do I. We need to hurry back down the path, son.\"\n\n\"No. Let's hurry and inspect this part of the cave. We might be fortunate to find Ambrose's coffin, and I can stake him before he has awakened.\"\n\n\"Okay. But even if we kill Ambrose, how do you propose we get past those demon beasts?\" he asked.\n\n\"A problem we deal with afterwards.\"\n\nThe cave began as a narrow tunnel and widened into a large room. I noticed several sepulchers carved from stone. Two of them were already open.\n\nI scanned the room holding a stake in hand, trying to find where the awakened vampires were. Three sepulchers away stood one of them. She was a beautiful voluptuous woman with her dark hair curled into a bunt. Her piercing dark eyes were alluring and her smile captivated me. It was like she could reach inside my soul and remove all my pain. She whispered coaxing words with her smooth sultry voice kissing at the edge of my ears. The lure of her beauty spellbound me. I didn't see the vampire. I saw a beautiful woman.\n\nSlowly, I lowered the stake in my hand. I felt at peace.\n\nShe licked her lips and glided toward me, stopping inches from me. I couldn't take my eyes off her beauty.\n\n\"I could never abandon you,\" she whispered. \"Not like Penelope did.\"\n\nThe mention of Penelope's name shook me, breaking me from her charm. It was then I noticed my father's stern whispers. \"Forrest! Forrest! Snap out of it! She's trying to compel you.\"\n\nI blinked, suddenly seeing a hideously wrinkled woman instead of the mirage she had presented. The vampire continued smiling as if I were still under her lure. She eased closer and I brought up the stake and plunged it through her heart. Her eyes widened. She shrieked a second before collapsing to dust.\n\nNever had a vampire glamoured me. She could have easily killed me. All I could guess was that she was much older than any vampire I had encountered prior. The fact she held me within inches of biting my throat frightened me.\n\n\"Forrest!\" Father shouted.\n\nI turned to see a male vampire rushing at him. Father held a stake, but he was too hesitant. I flung a bottle of holy water. It missed the vampire but it shattered on the rock ceiling. The holy water splashed onto its face. It hissed, gnashing its fangs, and immediately turned its attention toward me.\n\nAs it rushed toward me, I reached over my shoulder and took my crossbow. Before the vampire was halfway across the room, I fired. The enchanted arrow struck through the vampire's heart. I retrieved the arrow and reloaded the crossbow. I loved those enchanted arrow stakes and wished I had cut dozens of them when I had been in London.\n\nFather hurried to where I stood. The scraping wings of the massive bat creatures outside the cave were getting louder. It sounded like hundreds of them had gathered in the trees. Retreating was probably as dangerous as sliding the lids off the sepulchers and staking the vampires.\n\nI gripped the corner of another sepulcher lid and pried it slowly to the side. Inside lay another beautiful female. Her eyes were closed. Her hands were crossed over her stomach. She didn't move or breathe. In essence, she appeared to be a corpse. Dead. But after the other two, I knew she was an undead. A vampire.\n\nI positioned the stake over her heart and drove it hard and fast through her chest. Her eyes widened and she flashed fangs before turning to ash.\n\n\"Fools!\"\n\nI turned toward the narrow passage way that lead farther into the cave. The silver-haired vampire loomed large and angered. He wore an amber broach with a stage beetle enclosed inside like Lorcan had described. It was Ambrose.\n\n\"Who has sent you, Hunter?\" he demanded. \"Lorcan?\"\n\nI turned and faced him. \"Yes. He hired me to slay you.\"\n\nAmbrose frowned. \"I don't know which comes as a greater surprise: A Hunter who has allowed himself to be hired by a vampire, or a master vampire too afraid to slay an opposing master, so he hires someone else to do it.\"\n\n\"Lorcan did indicate that he hoped to bewilder you in such a way,\" I replied.\n\n\"I do hope he paid you handsomely,\" Ambrose said in a cold even tone. \"No amount of gold is worth your death though, is it? But having you as one of my children, Hunter, I must commend Lorcan for gifting me a prize far greater than whatever gold coins he has offered you.\"\n\n\"Son,\" Father said softly. \"I\u2014I don't think we're getting out of this alive. Just know, I love you. I've always been proud of you. You're the best son I could have ever hoped for.\"\n\nAmbrose laughed. \"How touching. Your father fears death, but you Hunter, you do not?\"\n\nI pulled Father behind me and turned my head slightly. \"Run for the door.\"\n\n\"With those creatures outside?\"\n\n\"The lesser of two evils,\" Ambrose said. \"Either way, you have no hope.\"\n\n\"Go, Father,\" I whispered. \"Know I love you, too.\"\n\n\"Children, rise!\" Ambrose shouted. \"We have intruders! Kill them!\"\n\nThe lids of the sepulchers burst into the air all around the room. Father turned and ran for the cave entrance. I pulled my revolver and shot three vampires in the head. Although silver bullets won't kill vampires, they inflict a great deal of pain. These three dropped to the dusty floor, writhing in pain. I fired three more shots, aiming toward any vampire running toward Father.\n\nI was struck in the back hard, plowed to the ground by a vampire, but I rolled to the side swiftly. The vampire lost its grip. I yanked a stake from behind my belt and drove it through the beast's heart. It crumbled.\n\nFather was almost to the door, still holding the lantern. A vampire grabbed him from behind and twisted his arm in an unnatural way. Bones snapped.\n\nFather screamed.\n\nI shoved myself to my feet and ran toward him. Tears burned in my eyes. I plunged a stake through another vampire that was approaching my father. I missed the heart, but caused enough pain to stop its pursuit.\n\nThree more vampires rushed to cut me off, preventing me from reaching Father. Pain creased on his face as vampires clawed through his clothing. Rage burned inside of me, but I couldn't push through the vampires holding me back.\n\nI clutched one vampire by the throat, lifted his light body into the air, and staked him. I reached for the next and did the same. Glancing around the room, dozens of vampires had entered the room. There must have been over a hundred of them inside this cave. The odds were too great, even if Penelope had come to aid us. I reached into my coat pocket and tossed four enchanted arrows into the air.\n\nThe arrows were swift to take down the four closest vampires. Once the vampires dropped as ash, the arrows quickly zipped through the air in search of four more. I holstered my crossbow and made it to my father. He lay on the dusty floor. Blood spilled out from several nasty wounds. He didn't see me. He was in shock. His eyes were distant. With the blood pouring from him, I didn't see any way he was going to survive, but I wasn't about to leave him behind. I heaved him up off the floor and placed him over my shoulder. I grabbed my Hunter box and ran for the entrance.\n\nI glanced back before leaving the cave. Most of the vampires had retreated through the passageway where Ambrose had emerged. The four enchanted arrows whooshed through the air, killing any vampire within their vicinity. The good thing was that none of the vampires were pursuing. They had seen how effective the arrows were. Ambrose had apparently decided to hide as well.\n\nThe giant winged bat creatures were hanging all through the tree branches. Several dozen of them were in the high branches right outside the cave. I lay Father onto the large boulder where we had sat earlier.\n\n\"Hold on, Father. Please, don't die.\" Tears trickled down my cheeks. \"I can't lose you, too.\"\n\nBut he wasn't moving. His eyes peered at me, frozen in death. I placed my ear to his nose. No breath.\n\nMy heart hammered in my chest. I took in huge gulps of air. With the help of the goggles, I quickly inspected his throat. No vampire had bitten him. I don't think any had intended to.\n\nI placed my ear to his chest, hoping for the slightest heartbeat. Nothing. I bunched up his blood soaked shirt inside my fists, sobbing.\n\nI rose with rage inside me. I grabbed my box and started back for the cave entrance when something huge slapped my chest, lifting me off the ground. I landed on my back, all the air escaping my lungs. A loud roar bellowed. I grabbed my box, preparing to get to my father, so I could carry his body down the narrow path, but was yanked off the ground by one of the winged creatures.\n\nIts huge talons pressed into my shoulders. It lifted upwards, narrowly missing the treetops, which probably would have shredded through me. The creature soared past the tree line and over the river. I lowered the box between my thighs and squeezed together to prevent it from falling. I slid my dagger from its sheath and stabbed at the thing's leg.\n\nIt shrieked and lowered its head toward me, trying to bite me. I plunged the dagger through the softness of its neck and cut sharply to the left. It plummeted downward. Its wings drooped over my head. Taking its claw-like appendages at the tips of its wings, I spread my arms out, trying to catch the air, hoping to glide away from the water, but it was useless.\n\nThe creature and I plummeted, striking the icy cold water. Darkness engulfed me.\n\n|  |\n\n---|---|---\n\n# Chapter Thirty-Seven\n\nI drifted halfway between consciousness and what I considered touching Death's door. My body ached, especially along my ribs and the back of my head. I couldn't feel anything below my waist. Try as I might, I couldn't even wiggle a toe.\n\n\"He's coming around, Ian. I told you he wouldn't die easily. He's a big strong man, full of muscle.\"\n\n\"Brother, he is busted up pretty badly. He has severe bruising all down his spine. Doubtful he can ever walk again. And as bad as he is, he probably won't last a week.\"\n\n\"Ah, but you're wrong. I know it.\" He cackled with bizarre laughter. \"Look. Look. Here. Look here.\"\n\n\"What is it, Gunner?\" Ian asked with a tone of disgust.\n\n\"These marks. They be made by a bear!\"\n\nI attempted to open my eyes but only got that in-between blurred phase like looking through the murky water of a stream. These two men ... I could barely see the outlines of their faces. I must have hit my head harder than the pain registered. These two men were hideously disfigured, mainly their teeth. Their teeth were long and twisted, yellowed. Surely I was still trapped inside a nightmare, and if I were, I didn't see any way of climbing out.\n\n\"A bear? We have very few bears near us,\" Ian said firmly. \"The waterfall is too harsh.\"\n\nGunner laughed in what sounded like chattering. \"That's what's so unique. You know\u2014you know what it means?\"\n\n\"What? You bumbling fool?\"\n\n\"He's ... he's going to become one of them.\"\n\n\"One of who?\"\n\n\"Like us. He's going to change.\"\n\n\"The scars are most likely from something else, like a jagged tree branch where the river current dragged him over the falls.\"\n\n\"No, it's a bear,\" Gunner said undeterred.\n\nIan sighed. He leaned closer to my chest where Gunner had pointed and started sniffing what I assumed must be claw marks because I wasn't capable of rising up and looking. His clammy hands touched my chest muscles. I tensed. He sniffed.\n\n\"You're right, Gunner. A bear.\"\n\nGunner giggled and clapped his hands. \"He's going to change then.\"\n\n\"We can't be certain, but we can be hopeful. If he does, at least his body should heal of these injuries.\"\n\n\"And if he don't?\"\n\n\"He'll probably die.\"\n\nGunner made a sad groan. \"Mustn't give up hope. Say, where'd you put that box we found?\"\n\n\"Near the door,\" Ian replied.\n\nGunner rushed away. A few moments later he dragged the box across the floor. \"Hefty damn thing to tote. Wonder what be inside?\"\n\n\"Might as well look.\"\n\nThe latches unsnapped and the hinges creaked. \"My, my, Ian.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"Ah, he be a Vampire Hunter!\" His voice rose to a near squeal. He came to my side and placed his cold hands on my shoulder and looked down at my face. Still a blurred image. \"Keep fighting to live, mate.\"\n\nMy lips moved, but only slight scratchy sounds came out.\n\n\"All his vials are intact,\" Gunner said. \"Nothing wet inside. Ooh, look.\"\n\n\"What?\" Ian said.\n\n\"He has a sack of coins.\"\n\n\"So?\"\n\n\"No reason. Just ... he must kill a lot of vampires to get money like this. I've always wanted to hunt vampires.\"\n\n\"Look at him, Gunner! Look at the shape he's in. Is this how you'd like to end up?\"\n\nGunner huffed. \"Well, no. Not particularly, no.\"\n\n\"Vampire hunting isn't a profession you pick. It picks you.\"\n\nGunner came back to my side and patted my shoulder.\n\n\"Rest easy, friend,\" Gunner said. \"It's two weeks until the next full moon. We'll keep you safe while you recover. Took a nasty fall off the cliffside, you did. That rocky waterfall didn't do ya any favors, either. But when the full moon rises, new blessings befall ya, they will.\"\n\nI moaned and tried to raise my head. Couldn't.\n\n\"Let him be, Gunner. Let him rest. Pawing at him won't help the situation none.\"\n\n\"But ... a Were-bear. Doesn't that excite you?\"\n\n\"Not particularly, no.\"\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because he could eat us.\"\n\n\"Always thinking the downside, aren't you? Never look at the good.\"\n\nIan growled. \"What's good about it? Poor chap nearly falls to his death, you jump into the frigid water and pull him out, but the only real mercy might have been if you'd have left 'em to die.\"\n\n\"Ian? Surely, you don't mean that?\"\n\n\"Gunner, what if he wasn't scratched by a shifter bear? Hmm? He's never going to go anywhere. For him to survive, requires our waiting on him hand and foot, day after day, and if that happens\u2014\"\n\n\"I'll tend to him. Me.\"\n\n\"Every detail?\" Ian asked.\n\n\"Every one.\"\n\n\"Then for your sake and his, I pray the bear was a shifter. It's all the hope you both have.\"\n\nGunner clapped his hands softly. \"He'll turn, Ian. He'll turn. You'll see. The great Vampire Hunter will transform into a bear.\"\n\n\"Come on, Gunner. Let him be. We need to catch fish for the day and find some dry firewood. Since the cave gets cold at night, we need to make it warmer for him. He's injured so he'll need food. Soup. Fish soup. Find some healing roots if you can.\"\n\n\"On it, brother!\" Gunner hurried away.\n\nHad I heard him correctly? I had been attacked by a bear-shifter? I never encountered a bear ... Wait. Something huge had struck me not too far outside the cave. That much I did remember, but I never saw what it had been.\n\nI wanted to snap fully awake to get a grip on reality, to discover the truth. I healed quickly or at least I always had in the past. But I'd never lost the feeling in my legs before. That concerned me.\n\nAfter I no longer heard the brothers talking, I tried to rise up again, but to no avail. I sobbed. Tears crested in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I couldn't stop their flow. Everything I held dear in my life was gone. First Momma, now Father, and Penelope ... she was sailing across the world to face a possible horde of demons alone. I feared I'd never see her again.\n\nI lay here, helpless and unable to move. I couldn't even talk. Had those who had chosen me to be a Hunter turned their backs on me? Was I cursed because I had kept Varak alive? Every step of our journey from London to Freiburg had been filled with misfortune, and as I had feared, a heavy price would be demanded for keeping the hybrid child alive. I couldn't image a heftier cost because my life was all I had left. Death would have been a blessing instead of suffering this anguish inside.\n\nLorcan had betrayed us. He was the reason Father was dead. The whole slay-his-enemy had been a scheme geared\u2014I reasoned\u2014to kill me because I was a Hunter. Perhaps Flora wasn't the only one who enjoyed torture games. I had been used as a gift offering to Ambrose from Lorcan. I doubted it was for peace, but Lorcan wanted to keep his children safe. For a vampire, there was no greater energy surge than for one to drink a Hunter's blood. But Ambrose had mentioned that he planned to turn me. Either way, had Ambrose succeeded, Lorcan had never intended for me to stake Ambrose. He knew the odds were too high for me and my father to be victorious. It was a suicide mission on our part.\n\nAlbert had offered to turn me into a were-rat on several occasions, insisting that I'd gain incredible strength and foresight by doing so. I had denied his offer each time. Now that I understood a bear were-creature might have attacked me, I hoped it was true. If there was one thing an angry bear possessed, it was rage. After all the sorrowful ordeals I had survived, my rage was building and longed to be released. Combining my rage with the rage of a massive bear, it would be far more magnified than I could ever hope to contain.\n\nThe events since we had left London flashed through my mind. My hot tears ceased, and for years to come, I didn't expect to experience the comfort of tears to soothe any of my inner emotional pains or loss. Coldness had suddenly frozen my tear well and slowly gripped my heart.\n\nYes, I hoped what Ian had predicted about the claw marks coming from a shifter was true. And if it were, I was about to evolve into something ruthless and unforgiving. I was going after Lorcan, his children, Ambrose and even Albert. There would be nothing to stop me. Each would suffer my rage. I'd pursue them to the ends of the earth if necessary, but I would find and slay each one.\n\nMy first transformation was two weeks away, if a bear shifter had actually infected me, and for some unexplained reason, I believed this to be true. Two weeks was a long time to fume over the atrocities others had committed against me and my family. When my rage eventually released, it would explode like a volcano. Ultimate destruction followed. A lot of undead and paranormal creatures were going to die at my hands. I'd never stop until I found each one of them and held them accountable for their transgressions.\n\nI had nothing else of value in this life except my soul. With the raging anger festering inside, I even dared Death to attempt his claim before I had satisfied my vengeance. For a while, his role would become my occupation. I'd bury those he had failed to remove from the earth and turn them to ash.\n\nIn the territories where the undead reigned, they'd fear my coming. Some vampires might stake themselves rather than face my wrath. As Jacques had mentioned almost a year earlier, my reputation eventually preceded me. While that might ultimately prove to be true, I hoped it occurred after my rage began to settle. The last thing I wanted was for Ambrose, Lorcan, or Albert to know I was coming for them. If Death could creep into homes unseen and unheard in the dead of night, perhaps I could do the same. The undead were about to witness their greatest unexpected nightmare. Me. But unlike Death, I'd show my enemies no mercy. They had taken from me, and now they'd know the ultimate price they'd pay.\n\nTHE END\n\n[Author's Note: The hardest part in writing this book was the death of Forrest's father after the two of them had finally gotten closer. However, in Succubus: Shadows of the Beast, where Forrest first appears (almost 120 years later), this is how he mentioned his father's passing. I knew John's fate when I started this book and dreaded when the scene took place. I shed tears, but Forrest's losses are what changes him and hardens his view against the undead even more. Due to all his losses, he undergoes a transformation that coincides with his character, not just physically, but mentally and spiritually as well. Internal hardships and struggles are what change all of us. Life isn't necessarily fair, or how we often wish it were. But whenever we come to a crossroads, we have a choice to make: Which path should I take? In this book, Forrest encountered a lot of crossroads. His decisions for each are what he must reflect for the rest of his life. While he cannot change them, he will learn from them.]\n\nForthcoming:\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [Blood Pact] Book 4\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter [2016]\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Blood Mists of London [2016}\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Predestined Crossroads [2016]\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Blood Pact [Forthcoming]\n\nSuccubus: Shadows of the Beast\n\nRaven\n\nOther works by Leonard D. Hilley II:\n\nThe Predator of Darkness Series (Sci-fi suspense thrillers):\n\nPredators of Darkness: Aftermath\n\nBeyond the Darkness\n\nThe Game of Pawns\n\nDeath's Valley\n\nThe Deimos Virus: Target Earth\n\nThe Chronicles of Aetheaon Series (Epic Fantasy):\n\nShawndirea [Book One]\n\nLady Squire: Dawn's Ascension [Book Two]\n\nDevils Den\n\n# Don't miss out!\n\nClick the button below and you can sign up to receive emails whenever Leonard D. Hilley II publishes a new book. There's no charge and no obligation.\n\n<https:\/\/books2read.com\/r\/B-A-HXSB-FHUJ>\n\nConnecting independent readers to independent writers.\nAlso by Leonard D. Hilley II\n\nDee's Mystery Solvers\n\nDee\"s Mystery Solvers: Witch Cat\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Blood Mists of London\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Predestined Crossroads\n\nJustin McKnight Series\n\nDevils Den\n\nNocturnal Trinity\n\nSuccubus: Shadows of the Beast\n\nRaven\n\nThe Chronicles of Aetheaon\n\nShawndirea: Book One\n\nLady Squire: Dawn's Ascension\n\nThe Darkness Series\n\nPredators of Darkness: Aftermath\n\nBeyond the Darkness\n\nThe Game of Pawns\n\nDeath's Valley\n\nThe Deimos Virus: Target Earth\n\nStandalone\n\nForrest Wollinsky: Vampire Hunter\n\nPredators of Darkness Series [Books 1-3]\n\nWatch for more at Leonard D. Hilley II's site.\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":" \n**NIKOLAI GOGOL,**  \ngeb. 1809 in der Ukraine, war von Kindheit auf ein eher kr\u00e4nklicher, unansehnlicher Zeitgenosse, der jeher dem Spott seiner Mitmenschen ausgesetzt war und als menschliches R\u00e4tsel galt. Die Versuche, eine Schauspiellaufbahn einzuschlagen und mit einer Verserz\u00e4hlung erfolgreich zu werden, schlugen fehl. Durch die Bekanntschaft mit dem bedeutenden russischen Dichter Alexander Puschkin bekam er die M\u00f6glichkeit Gelegenheitsjobs als Privatlehrer auszu\u00fcben und begann durch dessen wertvolle Impulse und Ideen Prosatexte zu schreiben. Sein erster ukrainisch-volkst\u00fcmlicher Erz\u00e4hlband _Abende auf dem Weiler_ bei Dikanka machten ihn schnell bekannt; ebenso beliebt wurde die Kom\u00f6die _Der Revisor_ und sein Hauptwerk _Die toten Seelen_. Aus religi\u00f6sem Wahn oder einer Psychose heraus begann er seine Werke anzuzweifeln, verbrannte das Manuskript des zweiten Teils _der toten Seelen_ und verweigerte schlie\u00dflich die Nahrungsaufnahme, die 1852 in Moskau zu seinem Tod f\u00fchrte.\n\n## Zum Buch\n\nEs sind wunderliche Sachen, die vor der st\u00e4dtischen Kulisse St. Petersburgs geschehen: Hunde, die eine Briefkorrespondenz f\u00fchren, eine Nase auf freiem Fu\u00df, ein M\u00e4ntel stehlendes Gespenst... Gogols literarische Welt ist grotesk, er verfremdet das, was uns eigentlich vertraut ist. Gegenst\u00e4nde werden personifiziert, Menschen verdinglicht. Das D\u00e4monische ist allseits pr\u00e4sent, Schein und Sein nie klar getrennt; zu entbl\u00f6\u00dfen versucht er es mit Humor und \u00dcberspitzungen im Erz\u00e4hlton. Ein scharfer und zugleich humoriger Blick auf die Gesellschaft St. Petersburgs in der ersten H\u00e4lfte des 19. Jahrhunderts.\n\nDie Petersburger Erz\u00e4hlungen versammeln:  \n _Der Mantel, Die Nase, Der Newskij-Prospekt,  \nDas Portr\u00e4t, Aufzeichnungen eines Irren_.\n\n\u00bbWir sind alle aus Gogols Mantel hervorgegangen\u00ab \u2013 diese Worte Dostojewskis machen die Bedeutung Gogols f\u00fcr die russische Literatur deutlich. Er leitet nicht nur die nat\u00fcrliche Schule ein, sondern ebnet auch die Wege zum russischen Surrealismus. Besonders auff\u00e4llig und eigen ist seine Kombination der Darstellung realistischer gesellschaftlicher Verh\u00e4ltnisse mit phantastischen und grotesken Elementen. Gogols Sarkasmus zielt auf die Schattenseiten des Menschen ab, nicht wenig davon generiert er aus sich selbst heraus: _\u00bbKeiner meiner Leser wu\u00dfte, da\u00df er, als er \u00fcber meine Helden lachte, \u00fcber mich gelacht hat... ich nahm irgendeine meiner schlechten Eigenschaften, verfolgte sie in einem anderen Stande oder Berufe, bem\u00fchte mich, sie mir als meinen Todfeind vorzustellen, der mir die empfindlichste Kr\u00e4nkung zugef\u00fcgt h\u00e4tte und setzte ihm nun mit Bosheit, Spott und allem was mir einfiel, zu.\u00ab_\n\n_\u00bbWie unmittelbar, wie stark ist Gogol! Das ist einfach begeisternd und nichts weiter. Er ist der gr\u00f6\u00dfte russische Schriftsteller.\u00ab_ Anton Tschechow\nNikolai Gogol\n\nPetersburger Erz\u00e4hlungen\nNikolai Gogol\n\n# Petersburger  \nErz\u00e4hlungen\n\nAus dem Russischen von  \nAlexander Eliasberg\n\n**Bibliografische Information der Deutschen Nationalbibliothek**  \nDie Deutsche Nationalbibliothek verzeichnet diese Publikation in der Deutschen Nationalbibliografie; detaillierte bibliografische Daten sind im Internet \u00fcber https:\/\/dnb.d-nb.de abrufbar.\n\nEs ist nicht gestattet, Abbildungen und Texte dieses Buches zu scannen, in PCs oder auf CDs zu speichern oder mit Computern zu ver\u00e4ndern oder einzeln oder zusammen mit anderen Bildvorlagen zu manipulieren, es sei denn mit schriftlicher Genehmigung des Verlages.\n\nAlle Rechte vorbehalten\n\n\u00a9 by marixverlag in der Verlagshaus R\u00f6merweg GmbH, Wiesbaden 2015  \nDer Text basiert auf der Ausgabe marixverlag, Wiesbaden 2015  \nCovergestaltung: network! Werbeagentur GmbH, M\u00fcnchen  \nBildnachweis: Sergej Alexandrowitsch Alimow (*1938),  \nB\u00fchnenentwurf f\u00fcr den Film \u00bbDie Nase\u00ab von Nikolai Vassilievich Gogol.  \n1998\u20132001, Zentrales K\u00fcnstlerhaus, Moskau. Rechte bei dem K\u00fcnstler.  \neBook-Bearbeitung: Bookwire GmbH, Frankfurt am Main\n\nISBN: 978-3-8438-0484-4\n\nwww.verlagshaus-roemerweg.de\n_\u00bbWie seltsam, wie unfa\u00dfbar spielt doch unser Schicksal mit uns! Erlangen wir je das, was wir uns w\u00fcnschen? Erreichen wir das, wozu uns unsere Kr\u00e4fte zu bef\u00e4higen scheinen? Alles kommt immer anders.\u00ab_\n\nGogol, Aufzeichnungen eines Irren\n\n## INHALT\n\nDIE NASE\n\nDAS PORTR\u00c4T\n\nDER MANTEL\n\nDER NEWSKIJ-PROSPEKT\n\nAUFZEICHNUNGEN EINES IRREN\n\n## DIE NASE\n\n### I\n\nAm 25. M\u00e4rz geschah in Petersburg etwas ungew\u00f6hnlich Seltsames. Der Barbier Iwan Jakowlewitsch, der auf dem Wosnessenskij-Prospekt wohnte (sein Familienname ist in Vergessenheit geraten und selbst auf seinem Ladenschilde, das einen Herrn mit einer eingeseiften Wange und der Inschrift: \u00bbUnd wird auch zur Ader gelassen\u00ab darstellt, nicht erw\u00e4hnt), der Barbier Iwan Jakowlewitsch erwachte ziemlich fr\u00fch am Morgen und roch den Duft von warmem Brot. Er setzte sich im Bette auf und sah, wie seine Gattin, eine recht ehrenwerte Dame, die sehr gerne Kaffee trank, frischgebackene Brote aus dem Ofen nahm.\n\n\u00bbHeute m\u00f6chte ich keinen Kaffee, Praskowja Ossipowna,\u00ab sagte Iwan Jakowlewitsch, \u00bbstatt dessen m\u00f6chte ich warmes Brot mit Zwiebeln.\u00ab (Das hei\u00dft, Iwan Jakowlewitsch wollte wohl das eine und das andere, er wu\u00dfte aber, da\u00df es unm\u00f6glich war, beides auf einmal zu verlangen, denn Praskowja Ossipowna mochte solche Launen nicht.) \u2013 Soll nur der Dummkopf Brot essen, umso besser f\u00fcr mich, \u2013 sagte sich die Gattin: \u2013 so bleibt mehr Kaffee f\u00fcr mich \u00fcbrig. \u2013 Und sie warf ein Brot auf den Tisch.\n\nIwan Jakowlewitsch zog des Anstandes halber einen Frack \u00fcber sein Hemd, setzte sich an den Tisch, nahm etwas Salz, schnitt zwei Zwiebeln zurecht, ergriff das Messer, machte eine wichtige Miene und begann das Brot zu zerteilen. Als er es in zwei H\u00e4lften geschnitten hatte, blickte er hinein und sah darin zu seinem Erstaunen etwas Weibliches. Iwan Jakowlewitsch kratzte vorsichtig mit dem Messer und tastete mit dem Finger. \u2013 Es ist etwas Festes, \u2013 sagte er sich, \u2013 was kann es sein?\n\nEr bohrte mit den Fingern und zog \u2013 eine Nase heraus!... Iwan Jakowlewitsch lie\u00df die H\u00e4nde sinken; er fing an, sich die Augen zu reiben und es zu betasten: eine Nase, tats\u00e4chlich eine Nase! Sie kam ihm sogar bekannt vor. Iwan Jakowlewitschs Gesicht zeigte Entsetzen. Dieses Entsetzen war aber nichts im Vergleich mit der Emp\u00f6rung, die sich seiner Gattin bem\u00e4chtigte.\n\n\u00bbWo hast du diese Nase abgeschnitten, du Unmensch?\u00ab schrie sie ihn w\u00fctend an. \u00bbVerbrecher! Trunkenbold! Ich selbst werde dich bei der Polizei anzeigen. Du R\u00e4uber! Drei Herren haben mir schon gesagt, da\u00df du beim Rasieren so heftig an den Nasen ziehst, da\u00df sie fast abrei\u00dfen.\u00ab\n\nIwan Jakowlewitsch war aber mehr tot als lebendig: er erkannte, da\u00df die Nase dem Kollegien-Assessor Kowaljow geh\u00f6rte, den er jeden Mittwoch und Sonntag zu rasieren pflegte.\n\n\u00bbHalt, Praskowja Ossipowna! Ich will sie in einen Lappen einwickeln und in die Ecke legen: sie wird dort eine Zeitlang liegen, und dann trage ich sie weg.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch will davon nichts wissen! Niemals werde ich dulden, da\u00df in meiner Wohnung eine abgeschnittene Nase herumliegt!... Du angebrannter Zwieback, du! Du kannst nur mit dem Messer auf dem Streichriemen herumfahren, wirst aber bald deine Pflichten nicht mehr erf\u00fcllen k\u00f6nnen, du Taugenichts, du Vagabund! Soll ich mich vielleicht deinetwegen vor der Polizei verantworten?... Du Schmierfink, du Dummkopf! Hinaus mit ihr, hinaus! Trag sie, wohin du willst! Da\u00df ich von ihr nicht mehr h\u00f6re!\u00ab\n\nIwan Jakowlewitsch stand wie zerschmettert da. Er \u00fcberlegte und \u00fcberlegte und wu\u00dfte nicht, was er sich denken sollte. \u00bbWei\u00df der Teufel, wie das nur m\u00f6glich ist,\u00ab sagte er endlich und kratzte sich hinter dem Ohre: \u00bbOb ich gestern betrunken heimgekommen bin oder nicht, wei\u00df ich nicht mehr. Es scheint doch eine au\u00dfergew\u00f6hnliche Sache zu sein, denn das Brot ist etwas Gebackenes, die Nase aber etwas ganz anderes. Ich kann gar nichts verstehen!\u00ab Iwan Jakowlewitsch verstummte. Der Gedanke, da\u00df die Polizei bei ihm die Nase entdecken und ihn zur Verantwortung ziehen k\u00f6nnte, bedr\u00fcckte ihn furchtbar. Ihm schwebte schon ein roter, sch\u00f6n mit Silber gestickter Kragen und ein Degen vor... und er bebte am ganzen Leibe. Endlich griff er nach seinen Unterkleidern und seinen Stiefeln, zog sich an, wickelte die Nase, unter gewichtigen Ermahnungen Praskowja Ossipownas, in einen Lappen und trat auf die Stra\u00dfe.\n\nEr wollte sie entweder irgendwo liegen lassen, z.B. auf einem Pfosten vor einem Tore, oder sie wie zuf\u00e4llig verlieren und dann in eine Seitengasse einbiegen. Er begegnete aber ungl\u00fccklicherweise Bekannten, die ihn sofort fragten: \u00bbWohin gehst du?\u00ab oder: \u00bbWen willst du so fr\u00fch rasieren?\u00ab, und Iwan Jakowlewitsch konnte keinen geeigneten Augenblick erwischen. Einmal hatte er die Nase schon verloren, aber ein Schutzmann winkte ihm von weitem mit der Hellebarde und sagte: \u00bbHeb auf, was du weggeworfen hast!\u00ab Iwan Jakowlewitsch mu\u00dfte die Nase aufheben und in die Tasche stecken. Ihn \u00fcberfiel Verzweiflung, um so mehr, als das Publikum auf der Stra\u00dfe best\u00e4ndig zunahm, je mehr Gesch\u00e4fte und L\u00e4den ge\u00f6ffnet wurden.\n\nEr beschlo\u00df, zu der Isaaksbr\u00fccke zu gehen: vielleicht gelingt es ihm, die Nase in die Newa zu werfen?... Aber ich f\u00fchle mich schuldig, weil ich noch gar nichts \u00fcber Iwan Jakowlewitsch, diesen in vielen Beziehungen ehrenwerten Menschen, gesagt habe.\n\nIwan Jakowlewitsch war wie jeder ordentliche russische Handwerker ein furchtbarer Trunkenbold und, obwohl er jeden Tag fremde B\u00e4rte rasierte, immer unrasiert. Der Frack Iwan Jakowlewitschs (Iwan Jakowlewitsch trug niemals einen gew\u00f6hnlichen Rock) war gescheckt, d.h. schwarz, voller gelblichbrauner und grauer Flecken; der Kragen gl\u00e4nzte, und an Stelle von drei Kn\u00f6pfen waren nur F\u00e4dchen zu sehen. Iwan Jakowlewitsch war ein gro\u00dfer Zyniker, und wenn der Kollegien-Assessor Kowaljow ihm beim Rasieren sagte: \u00bbDeine H\u00e4nde stinken immer, Iwan Jakowlewitsch!\u00ab, so antwortete Iwan Jakowlewitsch mit der Frage: \u00bbWarum sollten sie stinken?\u00ab \u2013 \u00bbIch wei\u00df es nicht, mein Bester, aber sie stinken,\u00ab entgegnete der Kollegien-Assessor, worauf ihm Iwan Jakowlewitsch, nachdem er eine Prise genommen, die Wangen und die Stellen unter der Nase, hinter den Ohren und unter dem Kinne, kurz alles, was ihm einfiel, einseifte.\n\nDieser ehrenwerte B\u00fcrger stand schon auf der Isaaksbr\u00fccke. Er sah sich um, beugte sich dann \u00fcber das Gel\u00e4nder, als ob er sehen wollte, ob viele Fische unter der Br\u00fccke schwimmen, und warf das L\u00e4ppchen mit der Nase vorsichtig ins Wasser. Es war ihm, als h\u00e4tte er sich von einer Last von zehn Pud befreit. Iwan Jakowlewitsch l\u00e4chelte. Statt sich auf den Weg zu machen, um die Beamten zu rasieren, ging er auf ein Lokal mit der Inschrift auf dem Schilde: \u00bbSpeisen und Tee\u00ab zu, um sich ein Glas Punsch geben zu lassen, als er pl\u00f6tzlich am Ende der Br\u00fccke einen Revieraufseher von vornehmem Aussehen, mit breitem Backenbart, einem Dreimaster und einem Degen stehen sah. Iwan Jakowlewitsch erstarrte, aber der Revieraufseher winkte ihm mit dem Finger und sagte: \u00bbKomm mal her, mein Bester!\u00ab\n\nIwan Jakowlewitsch wu\u00dfte, was sich geh\u00f6rt: er zog schon von weitem die M\u00fctze, kam schnell heran und sagte: \u00bbIch begr\u00fc\u00dfe Euer Wohlgeboren!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein, nein, Bruder, nichts von Wohlgeboren, sag mir lieber, was du dort auf der Br\u00fccke gemacht hast!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbBei Gott, Herr, ich ging zum Rasieren und wollte nur nachsehen, ob das Wasser schnell flie\u00dft.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbDu l\u00fcgst, du l\u00fcgst, so kommst du mir nicht davon. Antworte bitte!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch will Euer Gnaden zwei-, sogar dreimal in der Woche unentgeltlich rasieren,\u00ab antwortete Iwan Jakowlewitsch.\n\n\u00bbNein, Freund, das sind Dummheiten! Ich werde schon so von drei Barbieren rasiert, und sie rechnen sich dies zur Ehre an. Sag mir lieber, was du dort getan hast!\u00ab\n\nIwan Jakowlewitsch erbleichte... Hier h\u00fcllen sich aber die Geschehnisse in einen Nebel, und es ist vollkommen unbekannt, was da weiter geschah.\n\n### II\n\nDer Kollegien-Assessor Kowaljow erwachte ziemlich fr\u00fch und machte mit seinen Lippen \u00bbBrrr...\u00ab, wie er es stets beim Erwachen tat, ohne den Grund daf\u00fcr angeben zu k\u00f6nnen. Kowaljow streckte sich und lie\u00df sich den kleinen Spiegel geben, der auf dem Tische stand. Er wollte sich den Pickel ansehen, der am Tage vorher auf seiner Nase erbl\u00fcht war; zu seinem gr\u00f6\u00dften Erstaunen sah er aber an Stelle der Nase eine vollkommen glatte Fl\u00e4che! Kowaljow erschrak, lie\u00df sich Wasser geben und rieb sich die Augen mit dem Handtuch: die Nase war wirklich weg! Er fing an, die Stelle mit der Hand zu bef\u00fchlen, kniff sich auch ins Fleisch, um festzustellen, ob er nicht schlafe: nein, er schlief wohl nicht. Der Kollegien-Assessor Kowaljow sprang aus dem Bette und sch\u00fcttelte sich \u2013 die Nase war noch immer weg!... Er lie\u00df sich sofort seine Kleider geben und machte sich auf den Weg, direkt zum Ober-Polizeimeister.\n\nIndessen mu\u00df ich aber einiges \u00fcber Kowaljow sagen, damit der Leser erfahre, welcher Art Kollegien-Assessor er war. Die Kollegien-Assessoren, die diesen Grad dank ihren Bildungszeugnissen erlangen, lassen sich gar nicht mit den Kollegien-Assessoren vergleichen, die es im Kaukasus geworden sind. Es sind zwei v\u00f6llig verschiedene Arten. Die gebildeten Kollegien-Assessoren... Ru\u00dfland ist aber ein sehr merkw\u00fcrdiges Land, und wenn man etwas \u00fcber einen Kollegien-Assessor sagt, so werden es alle Kollegien-Assessoren von Riga bis Kamtschatka unbedingt auf sich beziehen; ebenso ist es auch mit allen andern Titeln und Graden. Kowaljow war ein kaukasischer Kollegien-Assessor. Er bekleidete diesen Rang erst seit zwei Jahren und mu\u00dfte daher immer daran denken; um sich noch mehr Ansehen und Gewicht zu verleihen, nannte er sich niemals einfach Kollegien-Assessor, sondern stets Major. \u00bbH\u00f6r mal, meine Liebe,\u00ab sagte er zu einem Weibe, das auf der Stra\u00dfe Vorhemden feilbot: \u00bbKomm zu mir in die Wohnung; ich wohne in der Ssadowajastra\u00dfe, und frage blo\u00df nach dem Major Kowaljow \u2013 ein jeder wird es dir zeigen.\u00ab Begegnete er aber einer jungen Sch\u00f6nen, so gab er ihr au\u00dferdem einen geheimen Auftrag und f\u00fcgte hinzu: \u00bbFrag nur nach der Wohnung des Majors Kowaljow, mein Kind!\u00ab Aus diesem Grunde wollen auch wir den Kollegien-Assessor in Zukunft Major nennen.\n\nDer Major Kowaljow pflegte jeden Tag auf dem Newskij-Prospekt spazieren zu gehen. Sein Hemdkragen war stets au\u00dferordentlich sauber und sorgf\u00e4ltig gest\u00e4rkt. Sein Backenbart war von jener Art, wie ihn auch jetzt noch die Gouvernements- und Kreislandmesser, die Architekten und Regiments\u00e4rzte, auch die Beamten f\u00fcr verschiedene Auftr\u00e4ge tragen, \u00fcberhaupt alle M\u00e4nner, die volle und rote Wangen haben und sehr gut Boston spielen: dieser Backenbart geht mitten durch die Wange und reicht bis zu der Nase. Der Major Kowaljow trug an seiner Uhrkette eine Menge von Petschaften aus Karneol, die teils Wappen und teils Inschriften trugen, wie \u00bbMittwoch\u00ab, \u00bbDonnerstag\u00ab, \u00bbMontag\u00ab usw. Der Major Kowaljow war nach Petersburg in Gesch\u00e4ften gekommen, und zwar, um eine seinem Grade entsprechende Stellung zu suchen: wom\u00f6glich das Amt eines Vize-Gouverneurs, sonst aber das eines Exekutors an irgendeinem angesehenen Departement. Der Major Kowaljow war auch gar nicht abgeneigt zu heiraten, aber nur in dem Falle, wenn die Braut zweihunderttausend Rubel mitbek\u00e4me. Nun kann der Leser selbst urteilen, wie es diesem Major zumute war, als er statt seiner recht h\u00fcbschen und m\u00e4\u00dfig gro\u00dfen Nase eine ganz dumme, glatte Fl\u00e4che gewahrte.\n\nZum Ungl\u00fcck lie\u00df sich keine einzige Droschke auf der Stra\u00dfe blicken, und so mu\u00dfte er zu Fu\u00df gehen, in seinen Mantel geh\u00fcllt, das Gesicht mit dem Taschentuch verdeckt, als ob er Nasenbluten h\u00e4tte. \u2013 Vielleicht ist es mir nur so vorgekommen: es kann ja nicht sein, da\u00df die Nase so dumm verschwindet \u2013 dachte er sich und trat in eine Konditorei, um einen Blick in den Spiegel zu werfen. Gl\u00fccklicherweise waren in der Konditorei keine Besucher; die Kellner kehrten die Stuben und stellten die St\u00fchle auf; andere, mit verschlafenen Augen, trugen hei\u00dfe Pasteten herein; auf den Tischen und St\u00fchlen lagen die mit Kaffee begossenen Zeitungen vom gestrigen Tage. \u00bbGott sei Dank, es ist niemand da,\u00ab sagte er, \u00bbnun kann ich in den Spiegel schauen.\u00ab Er ging \u00e4ngstlich zum Spiegel und blickte hinein. \u00bbTeufel, so eine Gemeinheit!\u00ab sagte er und spie aus. \u00bbWenn doch an Stelle der Nase wenigstens etwas anderes w\u00e4re, aber so nichts, gar nichts!...\u00ab\n\nEr bi\u00df die Z\u00e4hne verdrie\u00dflich zusammen und trat aus der Konditorei auf die Stra\u00dfe, entschlossen, entgegen seiner Gepflogenheit niemand anzusehen und niemand zuzul\u00e4cheln. Pl\u00f6tzlich blieb er wie angewurzelt vor der Einfahrt eines Hauses stehen; vor seinen Augen geschah etwas Unfa\u00dfbares: vor der Einfahrt hielt eine Equipage, der Schlag wurde ge\u00f6ffnet, ein Herr in Uniform sprang geb\u00fcckt aus dem Wagen und eilte die Treppe hinauf. Wie gro\u00df war der Schreck und zugleich das Erstaunen Kowaljows, als er in ihm seine eigene Nase erkannte! Bei diesem ungew\u00f6hnlichen Anblick drehte sich alles vor seinen Augen um; er f\u00fchlte, da\u00df er kaum noch stehen k\u00f6nne; aber er entschlo\u00df sich, koste es was es wolle, zu warten, bis jener wieder in die Equipage steigen w\u00fcrde; dabei bebte er am ganzen Leibe wie im Fieber. Nach zwei Minuten trat die Nase wieder aus dem Hause. Sie trug eine goldgestickte Uniform mit hohem Stehkragen, Beinkleider aus S\u00e4mischleder und einen Degen an der Seite. An dem Hut mit dem Federbusch konnte man ersehen, da\u00df sie im Range eines Staatsrates stand. Alles wies darauf hin, da\u00df sie gerade Besuche machte. Sie sah nach rechts und nach links, rief dem Kutscher: \u00bbFahr zu!\u00ab, stieg ein und fuhr davon.\n\nDer arme Kowaljow war beinahe von Sinnen. Er wu\u00dfte nicht, was er von einem so seltsamen Ereignis denken sollte. Wie war es blo\u00df m\u00f6glich, da\u00df die Nase, die sich noch gestern in seinem Gesicht befunden hatte und die weder fahren noch gehen konnte, eine Uniform trug! Er lief der Equipage nach, die gl\u00fccklicherweise nicht weit fuhr und vor dem Kaufhause hielt.\n\nEr st\u00fcrzte ins Kaufhaus und dr\u00e4ngte sich durch die Reihe alter Bettelweiber mit verbundenen Gesichtern und zwei L\u00f6chern f\u00fcr die Augen, \u00fcber die er sich fr\u00fcher so oft lustig gemacht hatte. Im Kaufhause waren nur wenig Leute. Kowaljow war so aufgeregt, da\u00df er keinen Entschlu\u00df fassen konnte und nur nach jenem Herrn aussp\u00e4hte; endlich sah er ihn vor einem Laden stehen. Die Nase hielt ihr Gesicht in dem hohen Stehkragen verborgen und betrachtete mit tiefem Interesse irgendwelche Waren.\n\n\u2013 Wie soll ich sie ansprechen? \u2013 dachte sich Kowaljow. \u2013 An allem, an der Uniform und dem Hut ist zu erkennen, da\u00df sie im Range eines Staatsrates steht. Wei\u00df der Teufel, wie man das macht! \u2013\n\nEr fing an, zu h\u00fcsteln; die Nase verharrte aber in ihrer Stellung.\n\n\u00bbMein Herr,\u00ab sagte Kowaljow, sich innerlich Mut zusprechend: \u00bbMein Herr...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas w\u00fcnschen Sie?\u00ab fragte die Nase, indem sie sich umdrehte.\n\n\u00bbEs erscheint mir so merkw\u00fcrdig, mein Herr... ich denke... Sie sollten doch wissen, wo Sie hingeh\u00f6ren. Pl\u00f6tzlich finde ich Sie, und wo?... Sie werden doch zugeben...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbVerzeihen Sie, ich kann unm\u00f6glich verstehen, wovon Sie sprechen... Fassen Sie sich bitte klarer.\u00ab\n\n\u2013 Wie soll ich es ihr klar machen? \u2013 dachte sich Kowaljow. Dann fa\u00dfte er sich ein Herz und begann: \u00bbIch kann nat\u00fcrlich... \u00fcbrigens bin ich Major. Sie werden doch zugeben, da\u00df es sich f\u00fcr mich nicht schickt, ohne Nase zu sein. Eine H\u00e4ndlerin, die auf der Woskressenskij-Br\u00fccke gesch\u00e4lte Orangen verkauft, kann sich noch ohne Nase behelfen; aber ich, der ich die Aussicht auf eine Anstellung habe... und au\u00dferdem in vielen H\u00e4usern verkehre und mit Damen bekannt bin: mit der Frau Staatsrat Tschechtarjowa und anderen... Urteilen Sie selbst... Ich wei\u00df nicht, mein Herr (bei diesen Worten zuckte der Major Kowaljow die Achseln)... verzeihen Sie... wenn man es vom Standpunkte des Pflichtbewu\u00dftseins und des Ehrgef\u00fchls ansieht... Sie k\u00f6nnen es selbst verstehen...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch verstehe gar nichts,\u00ab antwortete die Nase. \u00bbFassen Sie sich klarer.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbMein Herr,\u00ab sagte Kowaljow mit W\u00fcrde, \u00bbich wei\u00df nicht, wie ich Ihre Worte auffassen soll... Die ganze Angelegenheit erscheint mir doch klar... oder Sie wollen nicht... Sie sind doch meine eigene Nase!\u00ab\n\nDie Nase sah den Major an und zog die Brauen zusammen.\n\n\u00bbSie t\u00e4uschen sich, mein Herr: ich lebe ganz f\u00fcr mich. Au\u00dferdem k\u00f6nnen zwischen uns keinerlei intime Beziehungen bestehen. Nach den Kn\u00f6pfen Ihrer Uniform zu schlie\u00dfen, geh\u00f6ren Sie zu einem ganz anderen Ressort.\u00ab Mit diesen Worten wandte sich die Nase von ihm weg.\n\nKowaljow war g\u00e4nzlich verwirrt und wu\u00dfte nicht, was er tun und sogar was er sich denken sollte. In diesem Augenblick h\u00f6rte er das angenehme Rascheln eines Damenkleides: eine \u00e4ltere Dame mit vielen Spitzen an der Toilette, n\u00e4herte sich ihm, von einem jungen M\u00e4dchen gefolgt. Letztere trug ein wei\u00dfes Kleid, das wundersch\u00f6n auf ihrer schlanken Figur sa\u00df, und einen gelben Hut, so leicht wie ein Schaumkuchen. Hinter ihnen stand ein baumlanger Haiduck mit m\u00e4chtigem Backenbart und einem ganzen Dutzend von Mantelkr\u00e4gen.\n\nKowaljow kam n\u00e4her. Er zog den Kragen seines Battisthemdes hervor, ordnete die Petschaften an seiner goldenen Uhrkette und wandte seine Aufmerksamkeit der grazi\u00f6sen jungen Dame zu, die gebeugt wie eine Fr\u00fchlingsblume, das wei\u00dfe H\u00e4ndchen mit den durchscheinenden Fingern an die Stirne f\u00fchrte. Kowaljow l\u00e4chelte noch heiterer, als er unter ihrem Hut ein rundliches, schneewei\u00dfes Kinn und einen Teil der in der Farbe der ersten Fr\u00fchlingsrosen leuchtenden Wange gewahrte; aber pl\u00f6tzlich prallte er zur\u00fcck, wie wenn er sich verbrannt h\u00e4tte. Er erinnerte sich, da\u00df er an Stelle der Nase absolut nichts mehr hatte, und Tr\u00e4nen entstr\u00f6mten seinen Augen. Er drehte sich um, um dem Herrn in der Uniform zu sagen, da\u00df er sich blo\u00df als Staatsrat verstelle, da\u00df er ein Spitzbube und ein Schuft sei und nichts weiter als seine eigene Nase... Die Nase war aber schon verschwunden: sie hatte sich verfl\u00fcchtigt, wahrscheinlich um noch einige Besuche zu machen.\n\nDies versetzte Kowaljow in Verzweiflung. Er ging zur\u00fcck und blieb eine Minute lang in der S\u00e4ulenhalle stehen, gespannt nach allen Seiten blickend, ob er die Nase nicht wieder finden w\u00fcrde. Er erinnerte sich sehr gut, da\u00df sie einen mit Federn geschm\u00fcckten Hut und eine goldgestickte Uniform trug; aber er hatte sich weder ihren Mantel, noch die Farbe der Equipage und der Pferde gemerkt und wu\u00dfte sogar nicht, ob hinten ein Lakai und in was f\u00fcr einer Livree gestanden hatte. Au\u00dferdem fuhren hier so viele Equipagen und so schnell vorbei, da\u00df es schwer war, sich eine zu merken; und selbst wenn er sie erkannt h\u00e4tte, w\u00e4re es ihm unm\u00f6glich, sie anzuhalten. Der Tag war sch\u00f6n und sonnig. Auf dem Newskij-Prospekt wimmelte es von Menschen; eine ganze Blumenkaskade von Damen wogte \u00fcber das Trottoir von der Polizei- bis zur Anitschkinbr\u00fccke. Da sieht er einen ihm bekannten Hofrat, den er, besonders in Gegenwart von Fremden, Oberstleutnant zu titulieren pflegt. Da ist Jaruschkin, Abteilungsvorstand im Senat, ein guter Freund von ihm, der im Bostonspiel immer verliert, wenn er acht spielt. Und da ist ein anderer Major, der seinen Assessorgrad im Kaukasus erworben hat und der ihn mit der Hand zu sich heranwinkt...\n\n\u00bbHol ihn der Teufel!\u00ab sagte Kowaljow: \u00bbHe, Kutscher, fahr mich direkt zum Polizeimeister!\u00ab\n\nKowaljow stieg in die Droschke und rief dem Kutscher jeden Augenblick zu: \u00bbFahr so schnell du kannst!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIst der Polizeimeister anwesend?\u00ab fragte er, in den Flur tretend.\n\n\u00bbZu Befehl, nein,\u00ab antwortete der Portier: \u00bbDer Herr Polizeimeister sind eben ausgefahren.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbJawohl,\u00ab f\u00fcgte der Portier hinzu: \u00bbEs ist zwar noch nicht lange her, aber er ist ausgefahren; w\u00e4ren Sie um eine Minute fr\u00fcher gekommen, so h\u00e4tten Sie ihn vielleicht noch erwischt.\u00ab\n\nKowaljow stieg, ohne das Taschentuch vom Gesicht zu nehmen, wieder in die Droschke und rief mit verzweifelter Stimme: \u00bbFahr zu!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWohin?\u00ab fragte der Kutscher.\n\n\u00bbGeradeaus!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWie, geradeaus? Hier mu\u00df man wenden: nach rechts oder nach links?\u00ab\n\nDiese Frage brachte Kowaljow zur Besinnung und zwang ihn, wieder nachzudenken. Er h\u00e4tte sich wohl vor allem an die Polizeiverwaltung wenden m\u00fcssen, nicht etwa weil seine Lage in irgendeiner direkten Beziehung zur Polizei st\u00fcnde, sondern weil die letztere ihre Anordnungen schneller treffen k\u00f6nnte, als irgendein anderes Ressort. Genugtuung von dem Ressort zu verlangen, in dem die Nase, nach ihrer Behauptung, diente, w\u00e4re unklug gewesen, da man schon aus den eigenen Worten der Nase ersehen konnte, da\u00df es f\u00fcr sie nichts Heiliges gab und sie auch in diesem Falle ebenso l\u00fcgen w\u00fcrde, wie sie schon gelogen hatte, als sie behauptete, Kowaljow noch nie gesehen zu haben. Kowaljow wollte schon dem Kutscher den Befehl geben, zur Polizeiverwaltung zu fahren, als ihm wieder der Gedanke kam, da\u00df dieser Gauner und Spitzbube, der sich schon bei der ersten Begegnung so gewissenlos benommen hatte, den g\u00fcnstigen Augenblick ben\u00fctzen und die Stadt verlassen k\u00f6nnte, \u2013 dann w\u00e4re alles Suchen vergebens, oder es k\u00f6nnte auch, Gott beh\u00fcte, einen ganzen Monat dauern. Endlich gab ihm wohl der Himmel selbst einen guten Gedanken. Er beschlo\u00df, sich an die Zeitungsexpedition zu wenden und rechtzeitig eine Anzeige aufzugeben mit genauer Personalbeschreibung der Nase, damit jeder, der ihr begegnete, sie ihm wiederbringen oder wenigstens ihren Aufenthaltsort angeben k\u00f6nnte. Als er diesen Entschlu\u00df gefa\u00dft hatte, befahl er dem Kutscher, nach der Zeitungsexpedition zu fahren; er bearbeitete w\u00e4hrend der ganzen Fahrt den R\u00fccken des Kutschers mit der Faust und feuerte ihn an: \u00bbSchneller, du Spitzbube! Schneller, du Schurke!\u00ab \u2013 \u00bbAch, Herr!\u00ab sagte der Kutscher, den Kopf sch\u00fcttelnd und sein Pferd, das langhaarig wie ein Bologneser war, mit dem Z\u00fcgel schlagend. Die Droschke hielt endlich, und Kowaljow st\u00fcrzte atemlos in ein kleines Zimmer, wo ein grauhaariger Beamter im alten Frack, mit einer Brille auf der Nase, hinter einem Tische sa\u00df und, einen G\u00e4nsekiel zwischen den Z\u00e4hnen, die eingenommenen Kupferm\u00fcnzen zahlte.\n\n\u00bbWo gibt man hier Anzeigen auf?\u00ab rief Kowaljow. \u00bbAh, guten Tag!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbMeine Hochachtung!\u00ab entgegnete der grauhaarige Beamte, die Augen hebend. Dann richtete er sie wieder auf die Geldhaufen.\n\n\u00bbIch habe eine Anzeige...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbEntschuldigen Sie, wollen Sie bitte etwas warten,\u00ab sagte der Beamte, indem er mit der Rechten eine Zahl auf das Papier schrieb und mit dem Finger der Linken zwei Kugeln auf dem Rechenbrett verschob. Ein galonnierter Lakai von einem recht sauberen \u00c4u\u00dferen das von einer langen Dienstzeit in einem aristokratischen Hause zeugte stand mit einem Zettel in der Hand neben dem Tisch und hielt es f\u00fcr angebracht, seine Bildung zu zeigen: \u00bbGlauben Sie es mir, mein Herr, der Hund ist keine achtzig Kopeken wert, d.h. ich w\u00fcrde f\u00fcr ihn auch keine vier Kopeken geben, aber die Gr\u00e4fin liebt ihn! Darum verspricht sie dem Finder hundert Rubel! Wenn man sich h\u00f6flich ausdr\u00fccken will, wie z.B. wir beide uns ausdr\u00fccken, so sind die Geschm\u00e4cker der Menschen ganz unberechenbar. Wenn man schon ein Hundeliebhaber ist, so halte man sich einen Jagdhund oder einen Pudel; man gebe f\u00fcnfhundert Rubel aus, man gebe sogar tausend Rubel aus, daf\u00fcr soll es aber ein guter Hund sein!\u00ab\n\nDer ehrenwerte Beamte h\u00f6rte ihm mit ernster Miene zu und z\u00e4hlte zugleich die Buchstaben auf dem Zettel, den der Lakai mitgebracht hatte. Rechts und links standen noch eine Menge alter Frauen, Handlungsgehilfen und Hausknechte mit Zetteln in den H\u00e4nden. Auf einem dieser Zettel hie\u00df es, da\u00df ein n\u00fcchterner Kutscher von seinem Besitzer in fremde Dienste gegeben werde; in einem anderen wurde eine wenig benutzte, im Jahre 1814 aus Paris mitgebrachte Equipage feilgeboten; hier wurde ein leibeigenes M\u00e4del von neunzehn Jahren, das waschen konnte und auch f\u00fcr andere Arbeiten taugte, ausgeschrieben; dort eine solide Droschke, an der eine der beiden Federn fehlte; ein junger, feuriger Apfelschimmel von siebzehn Jahren; neue, aus London bezogene R\u00fcben- und Radieschensamen; ein Landgut mit allem Zubeh\u00f6r: mit einem Stall f\u00fcr zwei Pferde und einem Platz, auf dem man einen prachtvollen Birken- oder Tannengarten anlegen konnte; eine Anzeige \u00fcber den Verkauf alter Stiefelsohlen nebst Aufforderung, sich zwischen 8 und 3 Uhr bei der Versteigerung derselben einzufinden. Das Zimmer, in dem sich diese ganze Gesellschaft befand, war klein und die Luft darin au\u00dferordentlich stickig; aber der Kollegien-Assessor Kowaljow konnte es nicht sp\u00fcren, da er sich das Taschentuch vors Gesicht hielt und auch, weil seine Nase sich Gott wei\u00df wo befand.\n\n\u00bbMein Herr, darf ich Sie bitten... Ich habe Eile...\u00ab sagte er schlie\u00dflich mit Ungeduld.\n\n\u00bbGleich, gleich!... Zwei Rubel dreiundvierzig Kopeken!... Einen Augenblick!... Ein Rubel vierundsechzig Kopeken!\u00ab sagte der grauhaarige Herr, indem er den alten Weibern und den Hausknechten die Zettel ins Gesicht warf. \u00bbWas w\u00fcnschen Sie?\u00ab fragte er endlich, sich an Kowaljow wendend.\n\n\u00bbIch bitte...\u00ab sagte Kowaljow: \u00bbes liegt ein Schwindel oder ein Betrug vor, \u2013 ich wei\u00df es noch nicht. Ich bitte Sie nur zu annoncieren, da\u00df derjenige, der mir diesen Spitzbuben herbeischafft, eine betr\u00e4chtliche Belohnung erhalten wird.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbDarf ich Sie fragen: wie ist Ihr Familienname?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein, was brauchen Sie meinen Familiennamen? Ich kann ihn nicht angeben. Ich habe viele Bekannte: die Frau Staatsrat Tschechtarjowa, die Frau Stabsoffizier Pelageja Grigorjewna Podtotschina... Wenn sie es, Gott beh\u00fcte, erfahren! Sie k\u00f6nnen einfach schreiben: ein Kollegien-Assessor oder noch besser: Ein Herr im Majorsrange.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIst Ihnen ein Leibeigener entlaufen?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAch was, Leibeigener! Das w\u00e4re noch keine so gro\u00dfe Gemeinheit! Mir ist die... Nase ausger\u00fcckt...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbHm! Ein sonderbarer Familienname! Hat Sie dieser Herr Nase um eine gro\u00dfe Summe bestohlen?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbDas hei\u00dft die Nase... Sie haben mich nicht richtig verstanden! Die Nase, meine eigene Nase ist unbekannt wohin verschwunden. Der Teufel hat mir einen Streich spielen wollen!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbJa, auf welche Weise ist sie verschwunden? Ich kann es nicht verstehen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAuch ich kann Ihnen nicht sagen, auf welche Weise; das Wichtigste aber ist, da\u00df sie jetzt in der Stadt umherf\u00e4hrt und sich Staatsrat tituliert. Darum bitte ich Sie zu annoncieren, da\u00df derjenige, der sie einfangen sollte, sie mir unverz\u00fcglich bringen m\u00f6chte. Bedenken Sie doch selbst: wie soll ich ohne diesen so wichtigen K\u00f6rperteil leben? Das ist doch keine kleine Zehe, die im Stiefel steckt und deren Fehlen kein Mensch bemerkt. Ich bin jeden Donnerstag bei der Frau Staatsrat Tschechtarjowa; die Frau Stabsoffizier Pelageja Grigorjewna Podtotschina, \u2013 sie hat ein h\u00fcbsches T\u00f6chterchen, \u2013 ist auch eine gute Bekannte von mir; urteilen Sie selbst, was soll ich jetzt machen... Ich kann mich doch bei diesen Damen unm\u00f6glich sehen lassen.\u00ab\n\nDer Beamte \u00fcberlegte sich den Fall: seine fest zusammengekniffenen Lippen wiesen darauf hin.\n\n\u00bbNein, ich kann eine solche Anzeige nicht einr\u00fccken,\u00ab sagte er endlich nach langem Schweigen.\n\n\u00bbWie? Warum?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSo. Die Zeitung k\u00f6nnte um ihren guten Ruf kommen. Wenn jeder schreiben wollte, da\u00df ihm seine Nase ausger\u00fcckt sei, so... Man spricht auch so schon genug, da\u00df viel zu viele sinnlose und falsche Ger\u00fcchte gedruckt werden.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWarum sollte denn diese Sache sinnlos sein? Ich kann es wirklich nicht einsehen...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSie k\u00f6nnen es nicht einsehen. Aber in der vorigen Woche hatten wir folgenden Fall. Es kam ein Beamter, genau so wie Sie jetzt kommen, und brachte einen Zettel mit einer Anzeige, f\u00fcr die ihm zwei Rubel dreiundsiebzig Kopeken berechnet wurden; die Anzeige lautete, da\u00df ein schwarzer Pudel entlaufen sei. Man sollte doch meinen, es sei nichts dabei! Aber das Ganze war ein Pasquill: mit dem Pudel war der Kassierer, ich wei\u00df nicht mehr welcher Beh\u00f6rde, gemeint.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbMeine Anzeige handelt aber nicht von einem Pudel, sondern von meiner eigenen Nase; und das ist doch fast dasselbe wie wenn sie von mir selbst handelte.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein, eine solche Anzeige kann ich nicht aufnehmen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWenn ich aber wirklich die Nase verloren habe?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWenn Sie sie verloren haben, so geht es einen Arzt an. Man sagt, es g\u00e4be solche, die einem eine beliebige Nase ansetzen k\u00f6nnen. Ich sehe \u00fcbrigens, da\u00df Sie ein lustiger Herr sind und in Gesellschaft gern scherzen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch schw\u00f6re Ihnen, bei Gott! Wenn es nicht anders geht, so will ich es Ihnen zeigen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWarum die M\u00fche!\u00ab sagte der Beamte, indem er eine Prise nahm. \u00bbWenn es Ihnen \u00fcbrigens keine M\u00fche macht,\u00ab f\u00fcgte er neugierig hinzu, \u00bbso m\u00f6chte ich es mir doch anschauen.\u00ab\n\nDer Kollegien-Assessor nahm sich das Taschentuch vom Gesicht.\n\n\u00bbIn der Tat, sehr merkw\u00fcrdig!\u00ab sagte der Beamte: \u00bbDie Stelle ist so vollkommen glatt wie ein frischgebackener Pfannkuchen. Ganz unwahrscheinlich glatt!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNun, jetzt werden Sie wohl nicht mehr widersprechen? Nun sehen Sie selbst, da\u00df Sie die Anzeige aufnehmen m\u00fcssen. Ich werde Ihnen sehr dankbar sein und bin froh, da\u00df diese Gelegenheit mir das Vergn\u00fcgen verschafft hat, Sie kennen zu lernen.\u00ab Der Major lie\u00df sich, wie man daraus ersehen kann, zu einer gemeinen Schmeichelei herab.\n\n\u00bbAbdrucken kann ich es wohl, das ist nicht schwer,\u00ab sagte der Beamte, \u00bbaber ich kann darin keinen Nutzen f\u00fcr Sie erblicken. Wenn Sie wollen, so lassen Sie es von jemand, der sich darauf versteht, als ein seltenes Naturereignis beschreiben und in der \u203aNordischen Biene\u2039 ver\u00f6ffentlichen (hier nahm er wieder eine Prise), zur Belehrung der Jugend (er schneuzte sich), oder zur allgemeinen Unterhaltung.\u00ab\n\nDer Kollegien-Assessor war nun ganz niedergeschlagen. Sein Blick fiel auf den unteren Teil des Zeitungsblattes, wo sich die Theateranzeigen befanden; er wollte schon l\u00e4cheln, als er auf den Namen einer h\u00fcbschen Schauspielerin stie\u00df, und seine Hand fuhr schon in die Tasche, um nachzusehen, ob er noch einen blauen Lappen habe, da doch Personen im Stabsoffiziersrange seiner Meinung nach nur im Parkett sitzen d\u00fcrfen; aber der Gedanke an die Nase verdarb alles!\n\nDer Beamte selbst schien durch die schwierige Lage Kowaljows ger\u00fchrt. Er wollte seinen Kummer wenigstens etwas lindern und hielt es f\u00fcr angebracht, seine Teilnahme in einigen Worten auszudr\u00fccken: \u00bbEs tut mir wirklich sehr leid, da\u00df Ihnen so etwas passiert ist. Wollen Sie nicht eine Prise nehmen? Dies hilft gegen Kopfweh und Melancholie; selbst gegen H\u00e4morrhoiden ist es gut.\u00ab Mit diesen Worten reichte der Beamte Kowaljow seine Tabaksdose, indem er den Deckel mit dem Bildnis einer hutgeschm\u00fcckten Dame sehr geschickt aufklappte.\n\nDiese un\u00fcberlegte Handlung brachte Kowaljow um seine Geduld. \u00bbIch verstehe nicht, wie Sie jetzt spa\u00dfen k\u00f6nnen,\u00ab sagte er erregt: \u00bbSehen Sie denn nicht, da\u00df mir gerade das fehlt, womit ich schnupfen k\u00f6nnte? Hol der Teufel Ihren Tabak! Ich kann ihn gar nicht sehen, nicht nur Ihren schlechten Beresin-Tabak, sondern selbst wenn Sie mir einen echten Rap\u00e9 angeboten h\u00e4tten!\u00ab Mit diesen Worten verlie\u00df er tief gekr\u00e4nkt die Zeitungsexpedition und begab sich zum Polizeikommiss\u00e4r.\n\nKowaljow kam zum Polizeikommiss\u00e4r in dem Augenblick, als dieser sich streckte und sagte: \u00bbAch, wie gut werde ich jetzt an die zwei Stunden schlafen!\u00ab Daraus kann man ersehen, da\u00df der Kollegien-Assessor ihm ziemlich ungelegen kam. Der Polizeikommiss\u00e4r war ein Besch\u00fctzer aller K\u00fcnste und Handwerke, zog aber eine Reichsbanknote allen anderen Dingen vor. \u00bbDas ist ein Gegenstand,\u00ab pflegte er zu sagen, \u00bbes gibt nichts Besseres als diesen Gegenstand: er braucht nicht gef\u00fcttert zu werden, er nimmt wenig Platz ein, findet in jeder Tasche Unterkunft und zerbricht nicht, wenn man ihn fallen l\u00e4\u00dft.\u00ab\n\nDer Polizeikommiss\u00e4r empfing Kowaljow ziemlich k\u00fchl und sagte, da\u00df die Zeit nach dem Mittagessen f\u00fcr eine Untersuchung nicht geeignet sei; die Natur selbst h\u00e4tte bestimmt, da\u00df der Mensch nach dem Essen ausruhen m\u00fcsse (der Kollegien-Assessor konnte daraus ersehen, da\u00df dem Polizeikommiss\u00e4r die Ausspr\u00fcche der Weisen des Altertums nicht unbekannt waren); einem ordentlichen Menschen werde aber niemand die Nase abbei\u00dfen.\n\nEr traf damit den wundesten Punkt. Es ist zu bemerken, da\u00df Kowaljow au\u00dferordentlich empfindlich war. Alles, was man \u00fcber ihn selbst sagte, konnte er noch verzeihen, er vergab aber nichts, was seinen Titel oder Dienstgrad verletzte. Er glaubte sogar, da\u00df in den Theaterst\u00fccken alles erlaubt sei, was sich auf die Subaltern-Offiziere bezieht, die Stabsoffiziere d\u00fcrfe man aber in keiner Weise antasten. Der Empfang durch den Polizeikommiss\u00e4r verwirrte ihn so, da\u00df er den Kopf sch\u00fcttelte, die H\u00e4nde etwas spreizte und, im Bewu\u00dftsein seiner W\u00fcrde, erkl\u00e4rte: \u00bbOffen gestanden, habe ich nach so beleidigenden \u00c4u\u00dferungen nichts mehr zu sagen...\u00ab Und mit diesen Worten ging er.\n\nEr kam nach Hause, m\u00fcde und abgespannt. Es dunkelte schon. So traurig und h\u00e4\u00dflich erschien ihm seine Wohnung nach all diesem vergeblichen Suchen. Als er ins Vorzimmer trat, erblickte er auf dem schmutzigen Ledersofa seinen Lakai Iwan; er lag auf dem R\u00fccken und spuckte auf die Zimmerdecke, wobei er ziemlich geschickt immer die gleiche Stelle traf. Diese Gleichg\u00fcltigkeit machte ihn rasend; er schlug ihn mit seinem Hute auf den Kopf und sagte: \u00bbSchwein, du machst immer Dummheiten!\u00ab\n\nIwan sprang sofort auf und beeilte sich, ihm aus dem Mantel zu helfen.\n\nDer Major trat m\u00fcde und traurig in sein Zimmer, lie\u00df sich in einen Sessel sinken und sagte endlich, nachdem er einigemal geseufzt hatte:\n\n\u00bbMein Gott! Mein Gott! Womit habe ich dieses Ungl\u00fcck verdient? Wenn mir ein Arm oder ein Bein fehlte, so w\u00e4re es immer noch besser; aber ohne die Nase ist der Mensch wei\u00df der Teufel was: kein Vogel und kein B\u00fcrger, man m\u00f6chte ihn einfach packen und zum Fenster hinauswerfen! H\u00e4tte man sie mir doch im Kriege abgeschnitten oder im Duell, oder h\u00e4tte ich es selbst verschuldet; sie ist aber um nichts und wieder nichts verschwunden, ganz dumm!... Aber nein, es kann nicht sein,\u00ab f\u00fcgte er nach einigem Nachdenken hinzu: \u00bbEs ist nicht wahrscheinlich, da\u00df eine Nase verschwinden kann, es ist ganz unwahrscheinlich. Ich tr\u00e4ume wohl, oder es kommt mir nur so vor; vielleicht habe ich aus Versehen statt Wasser den Branntwein getrunken, mit dem ich mir nach dem Rasieren das Kinn einreibe. Dieser dumme Iwan hat ihn nicht weggestellt, und so habe ich ihn wohl getrunken.\u00ab Um sich zu \u00fcberzeugen, da\u00df er nicht betrunken sei, kniff sich der Major so schmerzhaft ins Fleisch, da\u00df er selbst aufschrie. Dieser Schmerz \u00fcberzeugte ihn vollkommen davon, da\u00df er im Wachen handle und lebe. Er trat vorsichtig vor den Spiegel und machte erst die Augen zu in der Hoffnung, da\u00df die Nase vielleicht doch noch auf ihrem Platze erscheinen werde; aber im gleichen Augenblick taumelte er zur\u00fcck und sagte: \u00bbSo eine Karikatur!\u00ab\n\nEs war einfach unbegreiflich. Wenn ihm noch ein Knopf, ein silberner L\u00f6ffel, eine Uhr oder etwas \u00e4hnliches abhanden gekommen w\u00e4re, \u2013 aber so etwas und das in seiner eigenen Wohnung!... Der Major Kowaljow zog alle Umst\u00e4nde in Betracht und kam zum Schlu\u00df, das Wahrscheinlichste sei, da\u00df die Frau Stabsoffizier Podtotschina, die ihn gerne zum Schwiegersohn haben wollte, die Schuld am Ungl\u00fcck trage. Er selbst machte wohl dieser Tochter gerne den Hof, vermied aber die Konsequenzen. Als die Frau Stabsoffizier ihm unumwunden erkl\u00e4rte, da\u00df sie ihre Tochter mit ihm verheiraten wolle, zog er sich mit seinen Komplimenten vorsichtig zur\u00fcck, unter der Behauptung, da\u00df er zu jung sei und noch an die f\u00fcnf Jahre dienen m\u00fcsse, um genau zweiundvierzig Jahre alt zu werden. Darum hatte sich die Frau Stabsoffizier wohl aus Rachedurst entschlossen, sein \u00c4u\u00dferes zu verunstalten, und dies irgendeiner alten Hexe bestellt; es war ja auf keine Weise anzunehmen, da\u00df die Nase einfach abgeschnitten worden sei: niemand war in seinem Zimmer gewesen, und der Barbier Iwan Jakowlewitsch hatte ihn schon am Mittwoch rasiert; die Nase war aber am Mittwoch und sogar Donnerstag noch da \u2013 das wu\u00dfte er sehr genau; au\u00dferdem h\u00e4tte er doch einen Schmerz gesp\u00fcrt, und die Wunde w\u00e4re nicht so schnell zugeheilt und so glatt wie ein Pfannkuchen geworden. Er schmiedete Pl\u00e4ne: ob er die Frau Stabsoffizier in aller Form vors Gericht laden oder pers\u00f6nlich zu ihr gehen sollte, um sie zur Rechenschaft zu ziehen. Seine Gedanken wurden durch den Lichtschein unterbrochen, der in allen Ritzen der T\u00fcre aufleuchtete und ank\u00fcndigte, da\u00df Iwan die Kerze im Vorzimmer angez\u00fcndet hatte. Bald erschien Iwan selbst mit der Kerze in der Hand, die das Zimmer hell beleuchtete. Die erste Bewegung Kowaljows war, das Taschentuch zu ergreifen und die Stelle zu verh\u00fcllen, wo sich noch gestern die Nase befunden hatte, damit der dumme Kerl nicht das Maul aufrei\u00dfe, wenn er seinen Herrn in einem so sonderbaren Zustande s\u00e4he.\n\nIwan war noch nicht in seine Kammer gegangen, als im Vorzimmer eine unbekannte Stimme ert\u00f6nte: \u00bbWohnt hier der Kollegien-Assessor Kowaljow?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbTreten Sie n\u00e4her, der Major Kowaljow wohnt hier,\u00ab sagte Kowaljow, indem er aufsprang und die T\u00fcre \u00f6ffnete.\n\nHerein trat ein Polizeibeamter von sympathischem Aussehen, mit einem nicht zu hellen und nicht zu dunklen Backenbart und ziemlich vollen Wangen; es war derselbe, der zu Beginn unserer Erz\u00e4hlung am Ende der Isaaksbr\u00fccke gestanden hatte.\n\n\u00bbSie haben Ihre Nase zu verlieren geruht?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbGewi\u00df.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSie ist gefunden worden.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas sagen Sie?\u00ab rief der Major Kowaljow. Er war vor Freude sprachlos. Er starrte den vor ihm stehenden Revieraufseher an, auf dessen vollen Lippen und Wangen der helle Widerschein des Kerzenlichtes zitterte. \u00bbAuf welche Weise?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAuf eine h\u00f6chst sonderbare Weise: man hat sie kurz vor ihrer Abreise erwischt. Sie stieg eben in die Postkutsche, um nach Riga zu fahren. Sie hatte auch schon l\u00e4ngst einen auf den Namen irgendeines Beamten ausgestellten Pa\u00df in H\u00e4nden. Merkw\u00fcrdigerweise habe ich sie selbst erst f\u00fcr einen Herrn gehalten; zum Gl\u00fcck hatte ich aber meine Brille bei mir und merkte sofort, da\u00df es eine Nase war. Ich bin ja kurzsichtig, und wenn Sie vor mir stehen, so sehe ich wohl, da\u00df Sie ein Gesicht haben, kann aber die Nase und den Bart nicht unterscheiden. Meine Schwiegermutter, d.h. die Mutter meiner Frau, sieht ebenfalls nichts.\u00ab\n\nKowaljow geriet au\u00dfer sich. \u00bbWo ist sie denn? Wo? Ich will gleich hinlaufen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbBem\u00fchen Sie sich bitte nicht. Ich wu\u00dfte, da\u00df Sie sie sehr vermissen, und habe sie darum gleich mitgebracht. Merkw\u00fcrdig ist auch, da\u00df der Hauptbeteiligte an dieser Sache der spitzb\u00fcbische Barbier aus der Wosnessenskij-Stra\u00dfe ist, der bereits im Arrest sitzt. Ich hatte ihn schon l\u00e4ngst der Trunksucht und Gaunerei verd\u00e4chtigt; erst vorgestern hat er in einem Laden ein Dutzend Kn\u00f6pfe gestohlen. Ihre Nase ist aber ganz unver\u00e4ndert.\u00ab Mit diesen Worten steckte der Revieraufseher die Hand in die Tasche und holte die in ein Papier eingewickelte Nase hervor.\n\n\u00bbJa, das ist sie!\u00ab rief Kowaljow. \u00bbJa, das ist sie! Trinken Sie doch mit mir heute ein T\u00e4\u00dfchen Tee!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch w\u00fcrde es f\u00fcr eine gro\u00dfe Ehre halten, aber es geht leider nicht: ich mu\u00df mich von hier sofort ins Zuchthaus begeben... Alle Lebensmittelpreise sind \u00fcbrigens betr\u00e4chtlich gestiegen... Ich habe aber meine Schwiegermutter, d.h. die Mutter meiner Frau, auf dem Halse und auch meine Kinder; der \u00c4lteste berechtigt zu den sch\u00f6nsten Hoffnungen und ist sehr klug; aber ich habe gar keine Mittel, um ihm eine ordentliche Erziehung zu geben...\u00ab\n\nAls der Revieraufseher gegangen war, verharrte der Kollegien-Assessor einige Minuten in einer seltsamen Gem\u00fctsverfassung und konnte fast nichts sehen oder f\u00fchlen: die pl\u00f6tzliche Freude hatte ihm fast das Bewu\u00dftsein geraubt. Er ergriff die wiedergefundene Nase vorsichtig mit beiden H\u00e4nden und sah sie noch einmal aufmerksam an.\n\n\u00bbJa, das ist sie! Ja, das ist sie!\u00ab sagte Major Kowaljow. \u00bbDa ist auch das Pickelchen links, das sich gestern gezeigt hat.\u00ab Der Major lachte fast vor Freude.\n\nAber auf dieser Welt ist nichts von Dauer, darum ist auch die Freude in der zweiten Minute niemals so lebhaft wie in der ersten; in der dritten Minute schwindet sie noch mehr und geht dann unmerklich in der gew\u00f6hnlichen Stimmung unter, wie auch der von einem ins Wasser geworfene Stein erzeugte Kreis schlie\u00dflich auf der glatten Oberfl\u00e4che verschwindet. Kowaljow wurde nachdenklich und begriff, da\u00df die Sache noch nicht erledigt war: die Nase ist wohl wieder da, aber man mu\u00df sie noch auf ihren Platz setzen.\n\n\u00bbWas, wenn sie nicht festsitzen wird?\u00ab\n\nBei dieser Frage, die er an sich selbst richtete, erbleichte der Major.\n\nMit einer unbeschreiblichen Angst st\u00fcrzte er zum Tisch und r\u00fcckte den Spiegel heran, um die Nase nicht schief anzusetzen. Seine H\u00e4nde zitterten. Ganz vorsichtig hielt er sie an den alten Platz. Oh, Schrecken! Die Nase wollte nicht halten!... Er f\u00fchrte sie an den Mund, erw\u00e4rmte sie ein wenig mit dem Atem und setzte sie wieder auf die glatte Stelle zwischen seinen Wangen: aber die Nase wollte nicht halten.\n\n\u00bbNa, na! Sitz doch, du Dumme!\u00ab sagt er zu ihr; die Nase war aber wie h\u00f6lzern, und wenn sie auf den Tisch fiel, gab es einen seltsamen Ton, als ob es ein St\u00fcck Kork w\u00e4re. Die Z\u00fcge Kowaljows verzerrten sich wie im Krampfe. \u00bbWird sie denn nicht anwachsen?\u00ab sagte er sich voller Angst. Aber so oft er sie auch an ihren Platz setzte, seine M\u00fche blieb immer erfolglos.\n\nEr rief Iwan und schickte ihn nach dem Arzt, der in der sch\u00f6nsten Wohnung im ersten Stock des gleichen Hauses wohnte. Der Arzt, ein stattlicher Mann, nannte einen wundersch\u00f6nen pechschwarzen Backenbart und eine frische, gesunde Gattin sein eigen, pflegte Morgens frische \u00c4pfel zu essen und hielt seinen Mund ungew\u00f6hnlich sauber: er sp\u00fclte ihn jeden Morgen fast dreiviertel Stunden lang und putzte die Z\u00e4hne mit B\u00fcrsten von f\u00fcnf verschiedenen Sorten. Der Arzt kam augenblicklich. Er erkundigte sich, vor wieviel Tagen das Ungl\u00fcck geschehen, ergriff den Major Kowaljow am Kinn und gab ihm mit dem Daumen einen Nasenst\u00fcber auf die Stelle, wo sich fr\u00fcher die Nase befunden hatte, so da\u00df der Major den Kopf in den Nacken warf und ihn ziemlich heftig an die Mauer schlug. Der Medikus erkl\u00e4rte, das habe nichts auf sich; er empfahl ihm, von der Wand wegzur\u00fccken und lie\u00df ihn den Kopf erst nach rechts neigen; er betastete die Stelle, wo fr\u00fcher die Nase gesessen hatte, sagte: \u00bbHm!\u00ab, lie\u00df ihn dann den Kopf nach links wenden, sagte wieder: \u00bbHm!\u00ab und gab ihm zum Schlu\u00df wieder einen Nasenst\u00fcber mit dem Daumen, so da\u00df der Major Kowaljow den Kopf zur\u00fcckwarf wie ein Gaul, dem man die Z\u00e4hne untersucht. Nach dieser Probe sch\u00fcttelte der Medikus den Kopf und sagte: \u00bbNein, es wird nicht gehen. Bleiben Sie lieber so wie Sie sind, sonst kann es noch schlimmer werden. Die Nase kann man wohl befestigen; ich k\u00f6nnte es sogar jetzt gleich tun, aber ich versichere Ihnen, es w\u00e4re f\u00fcr Sie schlimmer.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbDas ist ja wundersch\u00f6n! Wie soll ich ohne die Nase leben?\u00ab sagte Kowaljow. \u00bbSchlimmer als jetzt kann es doch nicht werden. Da soll doch der Teufel dreinfahren! Wo kann ich mich mit einem solchen Pasquillgesicht zeigen? Ich komme in gute Gesellschaft: auch heute abend mu\u00df ich zwei Besuche machen. Ich habe viele Bekannte: die Frau Staatsrat Tschechtarjowa, die Frau Stabsoffizier Podtotschina... wenn ich auch mit ihr jetzt nur noch durch Vermittlung der Polizei verkehre. Haben Sie Erbarmen!\u00ab fuhr Kowaljow mit flehender Stimme fort: \u00bbGibt es denn kein Mittel? Befestigen Sie sie doch irgendwie, wenn auch nicht gut, da\u00df sie nur irgendwie festsitzt; ich kann sie ja in schwierigen F\u00e4llen mit der Hand festhalten. Zudem tanze ich nicht und kann daher keine unvorsichtige Bewegung machen, die schaden k\u00f6nnte. Und was das Honorar f\u00fcr Ihren Besuch betrifft, so seien Sie versichert, da\u00df ich bereit bin, soweit es meine Mittel gestatten...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbGlauben Sie mir,\u00ab sagte der Arzt weder zu laut noch zu leise, doch au\u00dferordentlich \u00fcberzeugend und eindringlich: \u00bbich praktiziere nicht aus Habgier. Ich nehme f\u00fcr die Besuche wohl Geld, aber nur, um niemand durch die Weigerung zu kr\u00e4nken. Gewi\u00df, ich kann Ihnen die Nase wohl ansetzen; aber ich gebe Ihnen mein Ehrenwort, wenn Sie es mir so nicht glauben wollen, da\u00df es f\u00fcr Sie schlimmer w\u00e4re. Verlassen Sie sich auf das Walten der Natur. Waschen Sie die Stelle \u00f6fter mit kaltem Wasser, und ich versichere Ihnen, da\u00df Sie dann ohne Nase ebenso gesund sein werden, wie mit der Nase. Ich rate Ihnen, die Nase in Spiritus zu legen, oder, noch besser, zwei E\u00dfl\u00f6ffel starken Branntwein und warmen Essig hineinzutun \u2013 dann k\u00f6nnen Sie sie recht vorteilhaft verkaufen. Ich will sie Ihnen sogar selbst abnehmen, wenn Sie nicht zuviel verlangen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein, nein! Ich verkaufe sie um nichts in der Welt!\u00ab schrie der Major Kowaljow verzweifelt: \u00bbDann soll sie schon lieber zugrunde gehen!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbVerzeihen Sie!\u00ab sagte der Arzt aufbrechend: \u00bbIch wollte Ihnen n\u00fctzlich sein... Was kann ich tun! Jedenfalls haben Sie meinen guten Willen gesehen.\u00ab Mit diesen Worten ging der Arzt in sch\u00f6ner Haltung aus dem Zimmer. Kowaljow hatte in seiner tiefen Erregung sein Gesicht gar nicht gesehen und nur die aus den \u00c4rmeln seines schwarzen Fracks hervorlugenden schneewei\u00dfen Manschetten bemerkt.\n\nAm n\u00e4chsten Tag entschlo\u00df er sich, bevor er eine Klage einreichte, der Frau Stabsoffizier zu schreiben: ob sie nicht bereit w\u00e4re, ihm kampflos das, was ihm geh\u00f6rte, zur\u00fcckzugeben. Der Brief lautete wie folgt:\n\n#### Sehr geehrte Alexandra Grigorjewna!\n\nIch kann Ihre Handlungsweise, die f\u00fcr einen Unbeteiligten so befremdend ist, unm\u00f6glich begreifen. Seien Sie versichert, da\u00df Sie, wenn Sie so handeln, gar nichts erreichen und mich keineswegs zwingen k\u00f6nnen, Ihre Tochter zu heiraten. Glauben Sie mir: die Geschichte mit der Nase ist mir gut bekannt, genau wie der Umstand, da\u00df Sie und niemand anders die Hauptschuldige sind. Das pl\u00f6tzliche Verschwinden derselben von ihrem Platze, ihre Flucht und ihr Auftauchen erst in der Gestalt eines Beamten, dann in ihrer eigenen Gestalt ist nur eine Folge der Hexereien, die von Ihnen oder von anderen, die sich gleich Ihnen mit dergleichen Dingen besch\u00e4ftigen, betrieben werden. Ich meinerseits halte es f\u00fcr meine Pflicht, Ihnen zu erkl\u00e4ren: wenn die erw\u00e4hnte Nase sich nicht noch heute auf ihrem Platze befindet, werde ich mich gezwungen sehen, den Schutz der Gesetze anzurufen.\n\nIm \u00fcbrigen verbleibe ich in vorz\u00fcglicher Hochachtung\n\nIhr ergebenster Diener  \nPlaton Kowaljow.\n\n#### Sehr geehrer Herr Platon Kusmitsch!\n\nIhr Brief hat mich in h\u00f6chstes Erstaunen versetzt. Ich mu\u00df Ihnen offen gestehen, da\u00df ich es von Ihnen niemals erwartet h\u00e4tte, am allerwenigsten aber Ihre ungerechten Anklagen. Ich versichere Ihnen, da\u00df ich den Beamten, von dem Sie sprechen, weder in einer Maskierung, noch in seiner wahren Gestalt bei mir empfangen habe. Mich hat wohl Philipp Iwanowitsch Potantschikow besucht. Er hat sich zwar wirklich um die Hand meiner Tochter beworben, aber ich habe ihm, obwohl er ein trefflicher, n\u00fcchterner Mensch und sehr gebildet ist, keinerlei Hoffnung gegeben. Sie sprechen auch noch von der Nase. Wenn Sie damit meinen, ich h\u00e4tte Ihnen eine Nase drehen, d.h. Sie abweisen wollen, so wundere ich mich, da\u00df Sie selbst davon sprechen, w\u00e4hrend ich, wie Sie selbst wissen, anderer Ansicht war: wenn Sie jetzt gleich in \u00fcblicher Form um die Hand meiner Tochter anhalten, so bin ich bereit, Ihren Wunsch zu erf\u00fcllen, denn dies war immer auch mein sehnlichster Wunsch. In dieser Hoffnung bin ich, stets zu Ihren Diensten,\n\nAlexandra Podtotschina.\n\n\u00bbNein,\u00ab sagte Kowaljow, als er den Brief gelesen, \u00bbsie ist unschuldig. Es kann nicht sein! Der Brief ist so abgefa\u00dft, wie ihn ein Mensch, der ein Verbrechen auf dem Gewissen hat, niemals abfassen kann.\u00ab Der Kollegien-Assessor verstand sich darauf, da er im Kaukasusgebiet schon \u00f6fters an gerichtlichen Untersuchungen teilgenommen hatte. \u00bbAuf welche Weise mag es so gekommen sein? Da kennt sich nur der Teufel aus!\u00ab sagte er zuletzt und lie\u00df die H\u00e4nde sinken.\n\nInzwischen hatte sich das Ger\u00fccht \u00fcber dieses au\u00dfergew\u00f6hnliche Ereignis in der ganzen Residenz verbreitet, und zwar, wie es so geht, nicht ohne gewisse Ausschm\u00fcckungen. Damals waren alle Geister f\u00fcr das \u00dcbersinnliche eingenommen: das Publikum hatte sich erst vor kurzem f\u00fcr die Versuche mit dem Magnetismus interessiert. Auch waren die tanzenden St\u00fchle in der Konjuschennaja-Stra\u00dfe noch so frisch in Erinnerung, da\u00df es nicht zu verwundern ist, da\u00df bald darauf das Ger\u00fccht aufkam, die Nase des Kollegien-Assessors Kowaljow spaziere um drei Uhr auf dem Newskij-Prospekt. Nun versammelte sich da jeden Tag eine Menge von Neugierigen. Jemand erz\u00e4hlte, die Nase halte sich im Junckerschen Kaufladen auf, und neben Juncker entstand ein solcher Auflauf, da\u00df sogar die Polizei einschreiten mu\u00dfte. Ein Spekulant von ehrw\u00fcrdigem Aussehen mit Backenbart, der vor dem Theater trockenes Geb\u00e4ck verkaufte, lie\u00df sch\u00f6ne, feste Holzb\u00e4nke anfertigen, auf denen die Neugierigen gegen Bezahlung von achtzig Kopeken stehen durften. Ein verdienter Oberst verlie\u00df eigens zu diesem Zweck seine Wohnung und dr\u00e4ngte sich mit M\u00fche durch die Menge; aber zu seiner gro\u00dfen Entr\u00fcstung sah er im Fenster des Kaufladens statt der Nase eine ganz gew\u00f6hnliche wollene Unterjacke und eine Lithographie, die ein junges M\u00e4dchen darstellte, das seinen Strumpf in Ordnung brachte, und einen Gecken mit modischer Weste und einem Spitzbart, der sie hinter einem Baume beobachtete, eine Lithographie, die seit mehr als zehn Jahren an der gleichen Stelle hing. Der Oberst drehte sich um und sagte emp\u00f6rt: \u00bbWie kann man nur mit solchen albernen und unwahrscheinlichen Ger\u00fcchten das Volk verwirren?\u00ab Sp\u00e4ter kam das Ger\u00fccht auf, da\u00df die Nase des Majors Kowaljow nicht auf dem Newskij-Prospekt, sondern im Taurischen Garten herumspaziere; sie befinde sich schon seit langer Zeit dort; auch Chosrew-Mirza habe, als er dort gewohnt, sich sehr \u00fcber dieses seltsame Naturspiel gewundert. Einige Studenten der Chirurgischen Akademie begaben sich dorthin. Eine vornehme und angesehene Dame wandte sich brieflich an den Aufseher des Gartens mit der Bitte, ihren Kindern dieses seltene Ph\u00e4nomen zu zeigen und, wenn m\u00f6glich, eine f\u00fcr die Jugend belehrende und n\u00fctzliche Erkl\u00e4rung zu geben.\n\nAlle diese Ereignisse waren den st\u00e4ndigen Besuchern der Empf\u00e4nge in der gro\u00dfen Welt, die die Damen gerne unterhielten und deren Material um jene Zeit ersch\u00f6pft war, ganz besonders angenehm. Eine Minderheit ehrenwerter und wohlgesinnter Leute aber war au\u00dferordentlich unzufrieden. Ein Herr sagte emp\u00f6rt, er k\u00f6nne nicht begreifen, wie sich blo\u00df in diesem aufgekl\u00e4rten Zeitalter derartige dumme Ger\u00fcchte verbreiten k\u00f6nnen, und er wundere sich nur, da\u00df die Regierung nicht einschreite. Dieser Herr war offenbar einer von denjenigen, die die Regierung in alle Dinge einmischen m\u00f6chten, sogar in ihre t\u00e4glichen Streitigkeiten mit ihren Gattinnen. Bald darauf... aber hier werden die Ereignisse wieder von einem Nebel verh\u00fcllt, und es ist unbekannt, was weiter geschah.\n\n### III\n\nIn dieser Welt kommen die unsinnigsten Dinge vor, zuweilen solche, die ganz unwahrscheinlich sind: dieselbe Nase, die als Staatsrat spazieren gefahren war und in der Stadt solches Aufsehen erregt hatte, befand sich pl\u00f6tzlich wieder, als ob nichts geschehen w\u00e4re, auf ihrem Platz, d.h. zwischen den beiden Wangen des Majors Kowaljow. Dies war schon am 7. April der Fall. Als der Major erwachte und in den Spiegel sah, erblickte er seine Nase! Er bef\u00fchlte sie mit der Hand, \u2013 es war wirklich die Nase! \u00bbAha!\u00ab sagte Kowaljow und wollte schon vor Freude barfu\u00df einen Tanz auff\u00fchren, wurde aber von Iwan, der gerade ins Zimmer trat, daran verhindert. Er lie\u00df sich sofort das Waschwasser bringen und sah beim Waschen wieder in den Spiegel \u2013 die Nase war da! Als er sich abtrocknete, sah er noch einmal in den Spiegel, \u2013 die Nase war da!\n\n\u00bbSchau mal her, Iwan, ich glaube da sitzt ein Pickelchen auf der Nase!\u00ab sagte er und dachte bei sich: \u2013 Was, wenn Iwan mir sagt: \u203aNein, Herr, es ist gar kein Pickelchen und auch keine Nase da!\u2039 \u2013\n\nIwan sagte aber: \u00bbEs ist kein Pickelchen da: die Nase ist ganz rein!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSch\u00f6n ist es, hol mich der Teufel!\u00ab sagte der Major zu sich selbst und knipste mit den Fingern. In diesem Moment blickte der Barbier Iwan Jakowlewitsch ins Zimmer, aber so scheu wie eine Katze, die man eben wegen Entwendung eines St\u00fcckes Speck gez\u00fcchtigt hat.\n\n\u00bbSag es mir gleich: sind deine H\u00e4nde sauber?\u00ab schrie ihm Kowaljow schon von weitem zu.\n\n\u00bbJa, sie sind sauber.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbDu l\u00fcgst!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbBei Gott, sie sind sauber, Herr!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNun, pa\u00df auf!\u00ab\n\nKowaljow setzte sich. Iwan Jakowlewitsch band ihm eine Serviette um und verwandelte in einem Augenblick sein ganzes Kinn und einen Teil seiner Wange mittels des Pinsels in eine Cr\u00e8me, wie man sie bei Namenstagsfeiern in Kaufmannsh\u00e4usern auftr\u00e4gt. \u00bbJa, sieh mal an!\u00ab sagte Iwan Jakowlewitsch zu sich selbst, indem er die Nase ansah; dann wandte er seinen Kopf und blickte die Nase von der Seite an. \u00bbSieh mal an! Wenn man es sich \u00fcberlegt,\u00ab fuhr er fort und betrachtete lange die Nase. Endlich hob er ganz leicht und mit der gr\u00f6\u00dften Vorsicht zwei Finger, um die Nasenspitze zu erwischen. Iwan Jakowlewitsch hatte schon einmal dieses System.\n\n\u00bbNa, na, pa\u00df auf!\u00ab rief Kowaljow. Iwan Jakowlewitsch lieh die H\u00e4nde sinken, verlor jeden Mut und wurde so verwirrt wie noch nie. Schlie\u00dflich fing er an, mit dem Rasiermesser ganz behutsam unter dem Kinn zu kitzeln, wie unbequem es auch war und wie schwer es ihm auch fiel, ohne den St\u00fctzpunkt auf dem Geruchsorgan zu rasieren; endlich \u00fcberwand er doch alle Hindernisse, indem er seinen rauhen Daumen gegen die Wange und den Unterkiefer stemmte, und rasierte den Major gl\u00fccklich zu Ende.\n\nAls alles fertig war, kleidete Kowaljow sich rasch an, mietete eine Droschke und fuhr in eine Konditorei. Beim Eintreten rief er schon von weitem: \u00bbKellner, eine Tasse Schokolade!\u00ab Dann lief er zum Spiegel: die Nase war da. Er wandte sich lustig um und musterte ironisch, mit einem Auge blinzelnd, zwei Offiziere, deren einer eine Nase kaum so gro\u00df wie einen Westenknopf hatte. Darauf begab er sich in die Kanzlei des Departements, in dem er sich um einen Vizegouverneurs-Posten, oder wenigstens um den eines Exekutors bewarb. Als er das Empfangszimmer durchschritt, blickte er in den Spiegel \u2013 die Nase war da. Dann besuchte er einen anderen Kollegien-Assessor, oder Major, einen gro\u00dfen Sp\u00f6tter, dem er schon mehr als einmal auf dessen sp\u00f6ttische Bemerkungen gesagt hatte: \u00bbIch kenne dich, du bist immer so giftig!\u00ab Unterwegs dachte er sich: \u2013 W\u00e4lzt sich der Major, wenn er mich sieht, nicht vor Lachen, so ist es ein sicherer Beweis daf\u00fcr, da\u00df alles sich auf seinem Platze befindet. \u2013 Aber der Kollegien-Assessor sagte nichts. \u00bbWie sch\u00f6n, hol mich der Teufel!\u00ab sagte Kowaljow zu sich selbst. Unterwegs begegnete er der Frau Stabsoffizier Podtotschina nebst Tochter; er machte eine Verbeugung und wurde mit freudigen Ausrufen begr\u00fc\u00dft; also war alles in bester Ordnung. Er unterhielt sich mit ihnen sehr lange, nahm sogar seine Tabaksdose aus der Tasche und stopfte sich absichtlich vor ihren Augen sehr lange Schnupftabak in beide L\u00f6cher, wobei er zu sich selbst sagte: \u00bbSeht ihr es, ihr dummen Hennen! Die Tochter werde ich aber doch nicht heiraten. So einfach, _par amour_ , dagegen, \u2013 mit Vergn\u00fcgen!\u00ab Von nun an zeigte sich der Major Kowaljow, als ob nichts vorgefallen w\u00e4re, auf dem Newskij-Prospekt, in den Theatern und \u00fcberall. Auch seine Nase sa\u00df, als w\u00e4re nichts vorgefallen, auf ihrem Platz und man konnte ihr nicht anmerken, da\u00df sie sich von ihm entfernt hatte. Man sah jetzt den Major Kowaljow immer in bester Laune; er l\u00e4chelte, verfolgte alle h\u00fcbschen Damen und blieb sogar einmal vor einem Laden im Gro\u00dfen Kaufhaus stehen und kaufte sich ein Ordensband; wozu er es kaufte, blieb unbekannt, denn er hatte gar kein Recht auf irgendeinen Orden.\n\nSo eine Geschichte hat sich in der nordischen Residenz unseres ausgedehnten Vaterlandes ereignet! Wenn wir uns jetzt alle Umst\u00e4nde \u00fcberlegen, sehen wir, da\u00df an ihr vieles unwahrscheinlich ist. Schon ganz abgesehen davon, da\u00df ein solches unnat\u00fcrliches Verschwinden einer Nase und ihr Auftauchen an verschiedenen Orten in der Gestalt eines Staatsrates sehr sonderbar ist, \u2013 wie konnte es Kowaljow nicht eingesehen haben, da\u00df man den Verlust einer Nase nicht gut durch die Zeitungsexpedition anzeigen kann? Ich will damit nicht gesagt haben, da\u00df er f\u00fcr die Anzeige zu teuer bezahlt h\u00e4tte; das ist unwesentlich, und ich bin gar nicht so habgierig; aber es ist unanst\u00e4ndig, unpassend, unsch\u00f6n! Und dann: wie ist die Nase in das gebakkene Brot geraten und was hatte Iwan Jakowlewitsch damit zu tun?... Nein, ich verstehe es nicht, absolut nicht! Was ich aber am allerwenigsten verstehe, ist, da\u00df sich ein Autor ein solches Thema w\u00e4hlen kann. Ich finde es, offen gestanden, ganz unbegreiflich! Das ist wirklich... Nein, nein, ich kann es nicht verstehen! Erstens bringt es auch nicht den geringsten Nutzen dem Vaterlande, zweitens... aber auch zweitens bringt es keinen Nutzen. Ich wei\u00df einfach nicht, was es ist...\n\nUnd doch, wenn man das eine, das andere und das dritte auch zugeben kann, sogar da\u00df... und wo gibt es keinen Unsinn? Wenn man es sich aber \u00fcberlegt, so steckt doch etwas dahinter. Man mag jagen, was man will, solche Ereignisse kommen wirklich vor, \u2013 selten, aber sie kommen vor.\n\n## DAS PORTR\u00c4T\n\n### I\n\nNirgends blieben so viele Menschen stehen wie vor dem kleinen Bilderladen im Schtschukinschen Kaufhause. Dieser Laden stellte in der Tat die bunteste Ansammlung von wunderlichen Dingen dar; die Bilder waren zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil mit \u00d6lfarben gemalt, mit einem dunkelgr\u00fcnen Lack \u00fcberzogen und steckten in dunkelgelben Rahmen aus unechtem Gold. Eine Winterlandschaft mit wei\u00dfen B\u00e4umen, ein knallroter Abend, der wie eine Feuersbrunst aussieht, ein fl\u00e4mischer Bauer mit einer Pfeife im Munde und einem gebrochenen Arm, mehr einem Truthahn in Manschetten als einem Menschen \u00e4hnlich, \u2013 das ist der Inhalt der meisten Bilder. Zu erw\u00e4hnen sind noch einige Portr\u00e4tstiche: das Bildnis des Chosrew-Mirza in einer Lammfellm\u00fctze, die Bildnisse irgendwelcher Gener\u00e4le mit schiefen Nasen in Dreimastern... Au\u00dferdem ist die Eingangst\u00fcre eines solchen Ladens gew\u00f6hnlich mit bunten volkst\u00fcmlichen Holzschnitten auf gro\u00dfen Bogen beh\u00e4ngt, die von der angeborenen Begabung des Russen zeugen. Eines dieser Bilder stellt die Prinzessin Miliktrissa Kirbitjewna dar, ein anderes die Stadt Jerusalem, \u00fcber deren H\u00e4user und Kirchen man ganz ungeniert mit roter Farbe gefahren ist, welche auch einen Teil der Erde und zwei betende russische Bauern in Fausthandschuhen mitgenommen hat. F\u00fcr alle diese Kunstwerke gibt es nur wenig K\u00e4ufer, daf\u00fcr eine Menge Zuschauer. Irgendein Nichtstuer von einem Lakaien steht vor ihnen mit der Wirtshausmenage in der Hand da und l\u00e4\u00dft seinen Herrn warten, der die Suppe sicher in einem nicht zu hei\u00dfen Zustande l\u00f6ffeln m\u00fcssen wird. Vor ihm steht ebenso sicher ein Soldat in einem Mantel, dieser Kavalier des Tr\u00f6delmarktes, der zwei Federmesser zu verkaufen hat; auch eine H\u00e4ndlerin aus der Ochta-Vorstadt mit einer Schachtel voller Schuhe ist dabei. Ein jeder ist auf seine Art entz\u00fcckt; die Bauern tippen gew\u00f6hnlich mit den Fingern auf die Bilder; die Kavaliere betrachten sie mit ernster Miene; die jungen Lakaien und die Lehrlinge lachen und necken einander mit den dargestellten Karikaturen; die alten Lakaien in den Friesm\u00e4nteln sehen sich die Bilder nur darum an, weil sie doch irgendwie die Zeit totschlagen m\u00fcssen; aber die H\u00e4ndlerinnen, die jungen russischen Weiber, eilen rein aus Instinkt her, um sich anzuh\u00f6ren, was sich das Volk erz\u00e4hlt, und um sich anzuschauen, was sich das Volk anschaut.\n\nUm diese Zeit blieb vor dem Laden der zuf\u00e4llig vorbeigehende junge Maler Tschartkow unwillk\u00fcrlich stehen. Der alte Mantel und der gar nicht elegante Anzug lie\u00dfen auf einen Menschen schlie\u00dfen, der sich mit Selbstaufopferung seiner Kunst ergeben hat und dem es an Zeit fehlt, um sich um seine Toilette zu k\u00fcmmern, die doch sonst f\u00fcr die Jugend einen geheimnisvollen Zauber hat. Er blieb vor dem Laden stehen und lachte erst innerlich \u00fcber die h\u00e4\u00dflichen Bilder. Schlie\u00dflich bem\u00e4chtigte sich seiner eine unwillk\u00fcrliche Nachdenklichkeit: er fragte sich, wer alle diese Kunstwerke brauchte. Da\u00df das russische Volk alle diese Prinzen Jeruslan Lasarewitschs, die \u00bbFresser\u00ab und \u00bbS\u00e4ufer\u00ab, die \u00bbFomas\u00ab und \u00bbJeremas\u00ab bewunderte, erschien ihm gar nicht sonderbar: die dargestellten Gegenst\u00e4nde waren dem Volke zug\u00e4nglich und verst\u00e4ndlich: wo blieben aber die K\u00e4ufer f\u00fcr die bunten, schmutzigen \u00d6lbilder? Wer brauchte diese fl\u00e4mischen Bauern, diese roten und blauen Landschaften, die einigen Anspruch auf eine h\u00f6here Stufe der Kunst erheben, die aber nur die tiefste Erniedrigung der Kunst spiegeln? Sie schienen durchaus nicht die Arbeiten eines kindlichen Autodidakten zu sein; sonst w\u00e4re in ihnen trotz der gef\u00fchllosen Karikiertheit des Ganzen ein starker innerer Drang zum Ausdruck gekommen. Aber man sah an ihnen nichts als Stumpfsinn und kraftlose, altersschwache Talentlosigkeit, die sich eigenm\u00e4chtig neben die wahre Kunst gestellt hat, w\u00e4hrend ihr nur ein Platz unter den niedrigen Handwerken zukommt; eine Talentlosigkeit, die aber ihrem Berufe treu geblieben ist und in die Kunst selbst das Handwerksm\u00e4\u00dfige hineingebracht hat. Die gleichen Farben, die gleiche Manier, die gleiche gewohnte Hand, die eher einem roh gebauten Automaten als einem Menschen anzugeh\u00f6ren scheint!...\n\nLange stand er vor diesen schmierigen Bildern, an die er zuletzt gar nicht mehr dachte, w\u00e4hrend der Besitzer des Ladens, ein farbloses M\u00e4nnchen in einem Friesmantel, mit einem seit dem letzten Sonntag nicht mehr rasierten Kinn, auf ihn seit geraumer Zeit einredete, mit ihm feilschte und den Preis ausmachte, ohne sich erst erkundigt zu haben, was ihm gefiel und was er brauchte. \u00bbF\u00fcr diese B\u00e4uerlein und f\u00fcr die kleine Landschaft verlange ich einen F\u00fcnfundzwanziger. Diese Malerei! Die blendet einfach den Blick! Die Bilder kommen direkt vom Markt, der Lack ist noch nicht trocken. Oder dieser Winter hier, nehmen Sie doch den Winter! F\u00fcnfzehn Rubel! Was der Rahmen allein schon wert ist! Ist das ein prachtvoller Winter!\u00ab Der H\u00e4ndler schnellte mit den Fingern gegen die Leinwand, als wollte er auf diese Weise die G\u00fcte des Winters zeigen. \u00bbBefehlen Sie, da\u00df ich die Bilder zusammenbinde und Ihnen nachschicke? Wo geruhen Sie zu wohnen? Heda, Junge, eine Schnur her!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWart einmal, Bruder, nicht so schnell,\u00ab sagte der Maler, gleichsam zu sich kommend, als er sah, da\u00df der flinke H\u00e4ndler die Bilder in allem Ernst zusammenband. Er genierte sich ein wenig, nichts zu kaufen, nachdem er so lange im Laden gestanden hatte; darum sagte er: \u00bbWart einmal, ich will nachsehen, ob sich nicht hier etwas f\u00fcr mich findet!\u00ab Er b\u00fcckte sich und fing an, die auf dem Boden aufgeh\u00e4uften abgeriebenen und verstaubten alten Bilder aufzuheben, die hier offenbar nicht den geringsten Respekt genossen. Es waren alte Familienportr\u00e4ts von Menschen, deren Nachkommen sich wohl auf der ganzen Welt nicht mehr finden lie\u00dfen; v\u00f6llig unkenntliche Darstellungen auf zerrissener Leinwand; Rahmen, von denen die Vergoldung abgefallen war; mit einem Worte allerlei altes Ger\u00fcmpel. Aber der Maler sah sich die Sachen dennoch an, indem er sich heimlich dachte: \u00bbVielleicht l\u00e4\u00dft sich hier doch etwas finden.\u00ab Er hatte mehr als einmal geh\u00f6rt, wie man bei solchen kleinen H\u00e4ndlern zuweilen Bilder gro\u00dfer Meister entdeckte.\n\nAls der Ladenbesitzer sah, f\u00fcr welche Dinge der Kunde sich interessierte, nahm er wieder seine gew\u00f6hnliche Haltung an, stellte sich w\u00fcrdevoll vor die Ladent\u00fcr und begann die Vor\u00fcbergehenden in sein Gesch\u00e4ft zu locken, indem er mit der einen Hand ins Innere des Ladens wies: \u00bbHierher, V\u00e4terchen! Hier sind Bilder! Treten Sie nur ein! Sind soeben vom Markte gekommen.\u00ab Er hatte sich schon fast heiser geschrien, zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil fruchtlos; er hatte sich auch zur Gen\u00fcge mit dem vor der T\u00fcr seines Ladens gegen\u00fcber stehenden Lumpenh\u00e4ndler unterhalten, als er sich pl\u00f6tzlich erinnerte, da\u00df er in seinem Laden noch einen Kunden hatte; nun wandte er dem Publikum den R\u00fccken zu und begab sich ins Innere des Ladens. \u00bbNun, V\u00e4terchen, haben Sie sich schon etwas ausgesucht?\u00ab Der Maler stand aber schon seit geraumer Zeit unbeweglich vor einem Bildnis in einem m\u00e4chtigen, einst wohl prunkvollen Rahmen, auf dem hier und da noch Reste der Vergoldung gl\u00e4nzten.\n\nDas Portr\u00e4t stellte einen alten Mann mit bronzefarbenem, welkem, breitknochigem Gesicht dar; die Gesichtsz\u00fcge schienen im Augenblick einer krampfartigen Bewegung erfa\u00dft zu sein und zeugten von einem gar nicht nordischen Temperament: der gl\u00fchende S\u00fcden spiegelte sich in ihnen. Der Alte war in ein weites asiatisches Gewand geh\u00fcllt. Wie besch\u00e4digt und verstaubt das Portr\u00e4t auch war, erkannte Tschartkow, sobald er das Gesicht vom Staube gereinigt hatte, die Spuren der Arbeit eines gro\u00dfen K\u00fcnstlers. Das Portr\u00e4t schien unvollendet; die Kraft des Pinselstriches war aber erstaunlich. Am ungew\u00f6hnlichsten waren die Augen; der K\u00fcnstler schien auf sie die ganze Kraft seines Pinsels und seine ganze Sorgfalt verwendet zu haben. Die Augen sahen einen buchst\u00e4blich an, sie schauten sogar aus dem Bild selbst heraus und durchbrachen durch ihre ungew\u00f6hnliche Lebendigkeit die Harmonie des ganzen Bildes. Als er das Portr\u00e4t zu der T\u00fcr brachte, sahen die Augen noch durchdringender. Fast den gleichen Eindruck machten sie auf das drau\u00dfen stehende Volk. Eine Frau, die hinter ihm stehengeblieben war, rief: \u00bbEr schaut, er schaut!\u00ab und wich zur\u00fcck. Auch Tschartkow selbst empfand ein unangenehmes, ihm selbst unverst\u00e4ndliches Gef\u00fchl und stellte das Bild auf den Boden.\n\n\u00bbNun, nehmen Sie doch das Portr\u00e4t!\u00ab sagte der H\u00e4ndler.\n\n\u00bbWas soll es kosten?\u00ab fragte der K\u00fcnstler.\n\n\u00bbWas soll ich daf\u00fcr viel verlangen? Geben Sie mir drei Viertelrubel daf\u00fcr!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas geben Sie denn?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbZwanzig Kopeken,\u00ab sagte der K\u00fcnstler und schickte sich zum Gehen an.\n\n\u00bbWas Sie mir f\u00fcr einen Preis bieten! F\u00fcr zwanzig Kopeken werden Sie nicht einmal den Rahmen bekommen! Sie haben wohl die Absicht, es morgen zu kaufen? Herr, Herr, kommen Sie zur\u00fcck! Schlagen Sie wenigstens zehn Kopeken auf. Nun, nehmen Sie es, nehmen Sie es, geben Sie die zwanzig Kopeken her. Ich gebe es, nur um den Anfang zu machen, nur weil Sie heute der erste K\u00e4ufer sind.\u00ab Darauf machte er eine Handbewegung, die zu sagen schien: \u00bbFort mit Schaden!\u00ab\n\nSo hatte Tschartkow ganz unerwartet das alte Portr\u00e4t gekauft; dabei dachte er sich: \u00bbWozu habe ich es gekauft? Was brauche ich es?\u00ab Es war aber nichts mehr zu machen. Er holte aus der Tasche ein Zwanzigkopekenst\u00fcck, gab es dem H\u00e4ndler, nahm das Portr\u00e4t unter den Arm und schleppte es mit sich fort. Unterwegs erinnerte er sich, da\u00df das Zwanzigkopekenst\u00fcck, das er hergegeben hatte, sein letztes war. Seine Gedanken verd\u00fcsterten sich pl\u00f6tzlich, \u00bbHol's der Teufel! Ekelhaft ist es auf dieser Welt!\u00ab sagte er sich mit dem Gef\u00fchl eines Russen, dem es schlecht geht. Und er eilte fast mechanisch mit schnellen Schritten, gleichg\u00fcltig gegen alles auf der Welt. Der halbe Himmel war noch vom roten Licht des Abendrots umfangen, die nach Westen schauenden H\u00e4user waren noch schwach von seinem warmen Licht \u00fcbergossen, aber das kalte, bl\u00e4uliche Licht des Mondes schien immer greller. Halb durchsichtige leichte Schatten, die von den H\u00e4usern und den Menschenbeinen geworfen wurden, legten sich als Schweife auf den Boden. Der Maler fing schon an, den Himmel zu bewundern, der von einem eigent\u00fcmlichen, durchsichtigen, feinen, Ungewissen Licht \u00fcbergossen war, und seinen Lippen entfuhren fast gleichzeitig die Worte: \u00bbWas f\u00fcr ein zarter Ton!\u00ab und \u00bbEs ist \u00e4rgerlich, hol's der Teufel!\u00ab Er r\u00fcckte das Bild, das unter seinem Arm rutschte, zurecht und beschleunigte die Schritte.\n\nM\u00fcde und schwei\u00dfbedeckt erreichte er seine Behausung in der f\u00fcnfzehnten Linie der Wassiljewskij-Insel. Mit M\u00fche und schwer atmend stieg er die mit Schmutzwasser \u00fcbergossene und mit Spuren von Hunden und Katzen gezierte Treppe hinauf. Auf sein Klopfen bekam er keine Antwort: sein Diener war nicht zu Hause. Er lehnte sich ans Fenster und wartete geduldig, bis hinter ihm endlich die Schritte seines Burschen in blauem Hemd ert\u00f6nten \u2013 seines Dieners, Modells, Farbenreibers und Bodenkehrers, der \u00fcbrigens die B\u00f6den gleich nach dem Kehren mit seinen Stiefeln wieder beschmutzte. Der Bursche hie\u00df Nikita und pflegte die ganze Zeit, wo sein Herr nicht zu Hause war, vor dem Tore zu verbringen. Nikita gab sich lange Zeit M\u00fche, mit dem Schl\u00fcssel ins Schl\u00fcsselloch zu geraten, das infolge der Dunkelheit unsichtbar war. Endlich war die T\u00fcr aufgemacht. Tschartkow trat in sein Vorzimmer, in dem es unertr\u00e4glich kalt war, wie es bei allen Malern zu sein pflegt, was sie \u00fcbrigens nicht merken. Ohne Nikita seinen Mantel zu geben, trat er in sein Atelier, ein quadratisches, gro\u00dfes, doch niederes Zimmer mit zugefrorenen Fensterscheiben, das mit allerlei k\u00fcnstlerischem Ger\u00fcmpel angef\u00fcllt war: St\u00fccken von Gipsarmen, mit Leinwand bespannten Rahmen, angefangenen und aufgegebenen Skizzen und einer \u00fcber die St\u00fchle geworfenen Draperie. Er war sehr m\u00fcde; er legte den Mantel ab, stellte das mitgebrachte Portr\u00e4t zwischen zwei kleine Bilder und warf sich auf das schmale Sofa, von dem man nicht sagen konnte, da\u00df es mit Leder bezogen w\u00e4re; die Reihe der Messingn\u00e4gel, die einst das Leder festgehalten hatten, prangten schon l\u00e4ngst ganz f\u00fcr sich, w\u00e4hrend das Leder gleichfalls ganz f\u00fcr sich blieb, so da\u00df Nikita darunter die schmutzigen Str\u00fcmpfe, Hemden und die ganze schmutzige W\u00e4sche zu verwahren pflegte. Nachdem Tschartkow eine Weile gesessen und gelegen hatte, soweit es das schmale Sofa \u00fcberhaupt erlaubte, verlangte er schlie\u00dflich nach einer Kerze.\n\n\u00bbEs ist keine Kerze da,\u00ab sagte Nikita.\n\n\u00bbWieso ist keine da?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbEs war ja auch gestern keine da,\u00ab sagte Nikita. Der Maler erinnerte sich, da\u00df es gestern tats\u00e4chlich keine Kerze gegeben hatte; er beruhigte sich und verstummte. Dann lie\u00df er sich entkleiden und zog seinen stark abgetragenen Schlafrock an.\n\n\u00bbJa noch etwas, der Hausherr ist dagewesen,\u00ab sagte Nikita.\n\n\u00bbSo, er wollte wohl das Geld holen? Ich wei\u00df es,\u00ab entgegnete der Maler und winkte wegwerfend mit der Hand.\n\n\u00bbEr ist aber nicht allein dagewesen,\u00ab sagte Nikita.\n\n\u00bbMit wem denn?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch wei\u00df nicht, mit wem... Mit irgendeinem Revieraufseher.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas wollte denn der Revieraufseher?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch wei\u00df nicht, was er wollte; er sagte, die Miete sei noch immer nicht bezahlt.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas soll denn daraus werden?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch wei\u00df nicht, was daraus werden soll; er sagte: \u203aWenn er nicht zahlen will, so soll er ausziehen.\u2039 Sie wollten beide morgen wiederkommen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSollen sie nur kommen,\u00ab sagte Tschartkow mit trauriger Gleichg\u00fcltigkeit, und die tr\u00fcbe Stimmung bem\u00e4chtigte sich seiner nun g\u00e4nzlich.\n\nDer junge Tschartkow war ein Maler mit einem Talent, das viel versprach: sein Pinsel zeigte zuweilen blitzartig eine feine Beobachtungsgabe, Intelligenz und einen starken Drang, der Natur nahezukommen. \u00bbPa\u00df auf, Bruder,\u00ab hatte ihm sein Professor mehr als einmal gesagt: \u00bbDu hast Talent, und es w\u00e4re S\u00fcnde, wenn du es zugrunde richtetest; dir fehlt aber Geduld; wenn dich etwas anzieht, wenn dir irgend etwas gef\u00e4llt, so bist du davon ganz hingerissen, und alles andere ist f\u00fcr dich Mist, alles andere ist dir nichts wert, und du willst es nicht mehr anschauen. Pa\u00df auf, da\u00df aus dir kein modischer Maler wird: deine Farben sind schon jetzt schreiend, deine Zeichnung ist nicht streng genug und zuweilen sogar ganz schwach, die Linie ist nicht zu sehen; du jagst der neumodischen Beleuchtung nach, Effekten, die zu allererst in die Augen springen, \u2013 pa\u00df auf, da\u00df du nicht in die englische Manier verf\u00e4llst. Nimm dich in acht: die gro\u00dfe Welt zieht dich schon jetzt an; ich sehe dich oft ein elegantes Halstuch tragen oder auch einen gl\u00e4nzenden Hut... Es ist allerdings verlockend, man kann sich leicht herablassen, modische Bildchen und Portr\u00e4ts des Geldes wegen zu malen; dabei geht aber das Talent zugrunde, statt sich zu entfalten. Habe Geduld! \u00dcberlege dir jede Arbeit; gib die Eleganz auf, \u2013 sollen nur die andern Geld verdienen, deine Zukunft wird dir nicht entgehen!\u00ab\n\nDer Professor hatte zum Teil recht. Unser Maler sp\u00fcrte zuweilen wirklich das Verlangen, ein wenig \u00fcber die Schnur zu hauen und elegant aufzutreten, mit einem Worte hie und da seine Jugend zu zeigen; dabei hatte er sich aber doch in seiner Gewalt. Zuweilen war er im Stande, wenn er einmal den Pinsel ergriffen, alles \u00fcbrige zu vergessen und sich von der Arbeit nicht anders als von einem sch\u00f6nen, unterbrochenen Traum loszurei\u00dfen. Sein Geschmack entwickelte sich zusehends. Er hatte noch kein Verst\u00e4ndnis f\u00fcr die ganze Tiefe eines Raffael, begeisterte sich aber schon f\u00fcr den schnellen, breiten Pinselstrich eines Guido Reni, blieb zuweilen vor den Bildnissen Tizians stehen und bewunderte die Flamen. Das Dunkel, das die alten Bilder h\u00fcllt, hatte sich vor ihm noch nicht ganz gelichtet; aber er ahnte schon etwas in diesen Bildern, obwohl er innerlich seinem Professor nicht zustimmen konnte, da\u00df die alten Meister so unerreichbar hoch \u00fcber uns st\u00fcnden: er glaubte sogar, das neunzehnte Jahrhundert h\u00e4tte sie in manchen Dingen erheblich \u00fcberholt; die Nachahmung der Natur sei in der letzten Zeit farbiger, lebhafter und getreuer geworden; mit einem Worte, er urteilte so, wie die Jugend zu urteilen pflegt, die schon etwas erfa\u00dft hat und sich dessen mit Stolz bewu\u00dft ist. Zuweilen \u00e4rgerte er sich, wenn er sah, wie irgendein zugereister Maler, ein Franzose oder Deutscher, der manchmal sogar kein K\u00fcnstler aus innerem Berufe war, nur durch seine flotte Manier, die geschickte Pinself\u00fchrung und die Leuchtkraft der Farben allgemeines Aufsehen erregte und in einem Augenblick ein ganzes Verm\u00f6gen verdiente. Solche Gedanken kamen ihm aber in den Sinn, nicht wenn er ganz von seiner Arbeit hingerissen, Speise und Trank und die ganze Welt verga\u00df, sondern wenn an ihn die Not herantrat, wenn er kein Geld hatte, um sich Pinsel und Farben zu kaufen, und wenn der zudringliche Hausherr zehnmal am Tage kam, um das Geld f\u00fcr die Wohnung zu mahnen. In solchen Augenblicken besch\u00e4ftigte sich seine hungrige Phantasie mit dem beneidenswerten Los eines reichen Malers; dann kam ihm sogar der Gedanke, der so oft einen russischen Kopf zu durchzukken pflegt: alles aufzugeben und sich vor Kummer allem zum Trotz ganz dem Trunke zu ergeben.\n\n\u00bbJa, habe Geduld, habe Geduld!\u00ab sagte er ge\u00e4rgert. \u00bbAuch die Geduld hat einmal ein Ende. Habe Geduld! Womit soll ich aber morgen mein Essen bezahlen? Niemand wird mir doch etwas borgen. Und wenn ich meine Bilder und Zeichnungen verkaufe, so wird man mir f\u00fcr alles zwanzig Kopeken geben. Allerdings habe ich von allen diesen Arbeiten einen Nutzen gehabt: eine jede von ihnen ist nicht umsonst unternommen worden, bei jeder habe ich doch auch etwas gelernt. Aber was habe ich davon? Es sind nur Studien und Versuche, und es werden immer nur Studien und Versuche bleiben und kein Ende nehmen. Wer wird sie kaufen, solange mein Name unbekannt ist? Wer braucht auch die Zeichnungen nach der Antike, die Aktstudien, oder meine unvollendete liebe \u203aPsyche\u2039, oder die perspektivische Ansicht meines Zimmers, oder das Portr\u00e4t meines Nikita, obwohl es unvergleichlich besser ist als die Portr\u00e4ts irgendeines modischen Malers? Was denke ich mir noch? Warum qu\u00e4le ich mich und m\u00fche mich wie ein Sch\u00fcler mit dem Abc ab, w\u00e4hrend ich wohl im Stande bin, mich wie mancher andere hervorzutun und Geld zu verdienen?\u00ab\n\nAls der Maler diese Worte gesprochen, mu\u00dfte er pl\u00f6tzlich erzittern und erbleichen: ihn starrte hinter einem der Bilderrahmen ein krampfhaft verzerrtes Gesicht an: zwei schreckliche Augen bohrten sich in ihn, als wollten sie ihn auffressen; auf dem Munde stand der schreckliche Befehl geschrieben, zu schweigen. Er wollte vor Entsetzen aufschreien und Nikita rufen, der im Vorzimmer bereits ein lautes Schnarchen ert\u00f6nen lie\u00df, hielt aber pl\u00f6tzlich inne und fing zu lachen an: die Angst war im Nu gewichen; es war das neuangeschaffte Portr\u00e4t, das er inzwischen schon vergessen hatte. Das Mondlicht, das das Zimmer f\u00fcllte, fiel auf das Bild und verlieh ihm eine seltsame Lebendigkeit. Er fing an, das Bild zu betrachten und zu reinigen. Er tauchte einen Schwamm ins Wasser, fuhr damit einigemal \u00fcber die Leinwand, wusch damit den Staub und den Schmutz ab, die sich auf dem Bilde festgesetzt hatten, h\u00e4ngte es vor sich an die Wand und mu\u00dfte sich noch mehr \u00fcber die ungew\u00f6hnliche Arbeit wundern: das ganze Gesicht war fast lebendig, und die Augen blickten ihn so durchdringend an, da\u00df er zuletzt zusammenfuhr, zur\u00fcckwich und erstaunt ausrief: \u00bbEr schaut, er schaut mit Menschenaugen!\u00ab Pl\u00f6tzlich fiel ihm eine Geschichte ein, die er einmal vor langer Zeit von seinem Professor geh\u00f6rt hatte, die Geschichte von einem Portr\u00e4t des ber\u00fchmten Lionardo da Vinci, an dem der gro\u00dfe Meister mehrere Jahre gearbeitet hatte und das er immer noch f\u00fcr unvollendet hielt, w\u00e4hrend es die andern, nach dem Berichte Vasaris, f\u00fcr das vollkommenste und vollendetste hielten. Am vollendetsten waren darin die Augen, \u00fcber die die Zeitgenossen staunten: selbst die allerkleinsten, kaum sichtbaren \u00c4derchen waren nicht vernachl\u00e4ssigt und auf die Leinwand gebannt. Aber in diesem Portr\u00e4t, das jetzt vor ihm stand, war etwas Ungew\u00f6hnliches. Das war schon keine Kunst mehr, das zerst\u00f6rte sogar die Harmonie des Bildes selbst; es waren lebendige, es waren menschliche Augen! Sie schienen aus dem Gesicht eines lebendigen Menschen herausgeschnitten und in das Bild eingesetzt zu sein. Hier fehlte jener hohe Genu\u00df, der die Seele beim Anblick eines wahren Kunstwerkes erfa\u00dft, wie schrecklich auch der dargestellte Gegenstand sein mag; hier empfand man ein krankhaftes, peinigendes Gef\u00fchl. \u00bbWas ist das?\u00ab fragte sich unwillk\u00fcrlich der K\u00fcnstler: \u00bbEs ist immerhin die Natur, die lebendige Natur; woher kommt dann dieses sonderbare, unangenehme Gef\u00fchl? Oder ist die sklavische, genaue Nachahmung der Natur schon ein Vergehen und erscheint als ein gellender, unharmonischer Aufschrei? Oder wirkt der Gegenstand, wenn man ihn ohne Teilnahme und Sympathie, ganz gef\u00fchllos erfa\u00dft, immer nur als eine erschreckende Wirklichkeit, ohne von der unfa\u00dfbaren Idee, die allen Dingen innewohnt, durchleuchtet zu sein, wirkt als jene Wirklichkeit, die man vor sich hat, wenn man, um einen sch\u00f6nen Menschen zu erfassen, nach dem Messer des Anatomen greift, sein Inneres blo\u00dflegt und einen absto\u00dfenden Menschen erblickt? Warum erscheint die einfache, gemeine Natur bei dem einen Maler so erleuchtet, da\u00df man durchaus keinen gemeinen Eindruck hat; im Gegenteil, man glaubt sogar einen Genu\u00df zu haben und nachher alle Dinge um sich ruhiger und gleichm\u00e4\u00dfiger dahinflie\u00dfen zu sehen? Und warum erscheint die gleiche Natur bei einem anderen Maler so gemein und schmutzig, obwohl er ihr ebenso treu ist wie der andere? Aber nein, nein, nein es ist nichts Erleuchtendes in ihr. Es ist ganz wie eine Landschaft in der Natur: sie mag noch so gro\u00dfartig sein, aber es fehlt ihr immer etwas, wenn keine Sonne am Himmel steht.\u00ab\n\nEr ging wieder auf das Portr\u00e4t zu, um diese wunderlichen Augen n\u00e4her zu betrachten, und merkte mit Schrecken, da\u00df sie ihn wirklich ansahen. Es war keine Kopie der Natur mehr; es war jene seltsame Lebendigkeit, von der das Gesicht eines aus dem Grabe auferstandenen Toten erf\u00fcllt sein mag. War es das Mondlicht, das Tr\u00e4ume mit sich bringt und alles in eine andere Gestalt kleidet, die den Gestalten des positiven Tages entgegengesetzt ist, oder hatte es einen anderen Grund, \u2013 jedenfalls war es ihm pl\u00f6tzlich, er wu\u00dfte selbst nicht warum, schrecklich, allein im Zimmer zu sitzen. Er trat still vom Portr\u00e4t weg, wandte sich um und bem\u00fchte sich, es nicht mehr anzusehen, aber seine Augen schielten immer wieder unwillk\u00fcrlich hin. Zuletzt war es ihm sogar unheimlich, im Zimmer auf und ab zu gehen: es schien ihm, da\u00df gleich jemand anders anfangen w\u00fcrde, hinter ihm auf und ab zu gehen, und er sah sich jedesmal \u00e4ngstlich um. Er war niemals feige gewesen; aber seine Phantasie und seine Nerven waren sehr empfindlich, und an diesem Abend h\u00e4tte er sich auch selbst seine unwillk\u00fcrliche Angst nicht erkl\u00e4ren k\u00f6nnen. Er setzte sich in einen Winkel, aber auch hier war es ihm, als w\u00fcrde ihm gleich jemand \u00fcber seine Schulter ins Gesicht blicken. Selbst das Schnarchen Nikitas, das aus dem Vorzimmer her\u00fcberklang, vermochte seine Angst nicht zu verscheuchen. Schlie\u00dflich erhob er sich \u00e4ngstlich, ohne die Augen zu heben, von seinem Platz, ging hinter den Bettschirm und legte sich aufs Bett. Durch die Ritzen im Bettschirm sah er sein vom Mondlicht erleuchtetes Zimmer und das direkt vor ihm h\u00e4ngende Portr\u00e4t. Die Augen bohrten sich noch schrecklicher, noch bedeutungsvoller in ihn und schienen nur ihn allein anschauen zu wollen. Von einem beklemmenden Gef\u00fchl erdr\u00fcckt, entschlo\u00df er sich, vom Bett aufzustehen, ergriff ein Laken, ging auf das Portr\u00e4t zu und h\u00fcllte es ganz ein.\n\nNachdem er dies getan, legte er sich etwas beruhigt ins Bett und begann \u00fcber die Armut und das elende Los des K\u00fcnstlers nachzudenken und \u00fcber den dornenvollen Pfad, der ihm in diesem Leben bevorstand; indessen blickten aber seine Augen unwillk\u00fcrlich durch die Ritze im Bettschirm auf das in das Laken geh\u00fcllte Portr\u00e4t. Das Mondlicht lie\u00df die Leinwand noch wei\u00dfer erscheinen, und es schien ihm, als fingen die schrecklichen Augen an, durch das Laken hindurchzuleuchten. Entsetzt blickte er hin, als wollte er sich \u00fcberzeugen, da\u00df es nur Einbildung sei. Aber in der Tat... er sieht, er sieht es klar: das Laken ist nicht mehr da... das Portr\u00e4t ist ganz aufgedeckt und schaut an allem vorbei direkt auf ihn, blickt in sein Inneres... Es wurde ihm kalt ums Herz. Und er sieht: der Alte r\u00fchrt sich und st\u00fctzt sich mit beiden H\u00e4nden gegen den Rahmen, streckt beide Beine heraus und springt aus dem Bilde... Durch die Ritze im Bettschirm ist nur noch der leere Rahmen zu sehen. Im Zimmer t\u00f6nen Schritte, die immer n\u00e4her und n\u00e4her an den Bettschirm kommen! Dem armen Maler klopft furchtbar das Herz. Mit vor Angst verhaltenem Atem erwartet er, da\u00df der Alte gleich zu ihm hinter dem Bettschirm hereinblicken w\u00fcrde. Da blickt er auch schon wirklich hinter den Bettschirm, es ist das gleiche bronzefarbene Gesicht mit den gro\u00dfen Augen. Tschartkow versuchte aufzuschreien, f\u00fchlte aber, da\u00df er keine Stimme hatte, er versuchte sich zu r\u00fchren, irgendeine Bewegung zu machen, aber seine Glieder wollten sich nicht regen. Mit offenem Munde und stokkendem Atem blickte er auf das seltsame lange Phantom in dem weiten asiatischen Talar und wartete, was es wohl anfangen w\u00fcrde. Der Alte setzte sich fast zu seinen F\u00fc\u00dfen hin und holte dann etwas aus den Falten seines weiten Gewandes. Es war ein Sack. Der Greis band ihn auf, ergriff die beiden Zipfel und sch\u00fcttelte ihn: mit dumpfem Klirren fielen schwere lange Rollen auf den Boden; eine jede war in blaues Papier gewickelt und mit der Inschrift \u00bb1000 Dukaten\u00ab versehen. Der Alte streckte seine langen knochigen H\u00e4nde aus den weiten \u00c4rmeln heraus und fing an, die Rollen aufzuwickeln. Das Gold blitzte auf. Wie gro\u00df auch die schwere Beklemmung und die bewu\u00dftlose Angst des Malers waren, richtete er doch seine Blicke auf das Gold und beobachtete regungslos, wie es von den knochigen H\u00e4nden aufgewickelt wurde, wie es leuchtete, fein und dumpf klirrte und dann wieder ins Papier eingerollt wurde. Da bemerkte er eine Rolle, die weiter als die anderen bis dicht an das Bettbein an seinem Kopfende gerollt war. Fast krampfhaft griff er danach und sah zugleich voller Angst, ob der Alte es nicht bemerkt h\u00e4tte. Der Alte schien aber sehr besch\u00e4ftigt; er packte alle seine Rollen zusammen, tat sie wieder in den Sack und ging, ohne Tschartkow anzublicken, hinter den Bettschirm. Tschartkows Herz klopfte heftig, als er h\u00f6rte, wie sich die schl\u00fcrfenden Schritte durch das Zimmer entfernten. Er dr\u00fcckte, am ganzen Leibe zitternd, die Rolle in der Hand fest zusammen und h\u00f6rte pl\u00f6tzlich, wie die Schritte sich wieder dem Bettschirm n\u00e4herten: der Alte hatte offenbar bemerkt, da\u00df ihm eine der Rollen fehlte. Da blickte er wieder zu ihm hinter den Schirm. Der Maler dr\u00fcckte seine Rolle voller Verzweiflung mit aller Kraft zusammen, machte eine krampfhafte Anstrengung, schrie auf \u2013 und erwachte.\n\nEr war ganz in kalten Schwei\u00df gebadet; sein Herz schlug so heftig, wie es \u00fcberhaupt schlagen konnte; seine Brust war beengt, als ob ihr der letzte Atemzug entweichen wollte. \u00bbWar es denn nur ein Traum?\u00ab fragte er sich, indem er sich mit beiden H\u00e4nden an den Kopf fa\u00dfte. Aber die entsetzliche Lebendigkeit der Erscheinung hatte so gar nichts von einem Traume. Er sah schon in wachem Zustande, wie der Alte in seinen Rahmen zur\u00fcckkehrte, er sah sogar den Saum seines weiten Gewandes vorbeihuschen, und seine Hand f\u00fchlte ganz deutlich, da\u00df sie vor einem Augenblick etwas Schweres gehalten hatte. Das Mondlicht durchflutete sein Zimmer und lie\u00df in dessen dunklen Ecken hier eine Leinwand, dort einen Gipsarm und eine auf einem Stuhle zur\u00fcckgelassene Draperie, hier eine Hose und dort ein Paar ungeputzte Stiefel hervortreten. Nun merkte er erst, da\u00df er nicht mehr im Bette lag, sondern auf seinen Beinen dicht vor dem Portr\u00e4t stand. Wie er hingeraten war, konnte er selbst nicht begreifen. Noch mehr wunderte er sich dar\u00fcber, da\u00df das Portr\u00e4t ganz aufgedeckt war und da\u00df das Laken wirklich fehlte. Regungslos vor Entsetzen blickte er das Bild an und sah, wie die lebendigen menschlichen Augen ihn anstarrten. Kalter Schwei\u00df trat ihm ins Gesicht; er wollte vom Bilde Weggehen, f\u00fchlte aber, da\u00df seine F\u00fc\u00dfe wie angewurzelt waren. Und da sieht er \u2013 es ist kein Traum mehr \u2013 er sieht, wie die Z\u00fcge des Alten zucken, wie seine Lippen sich ihm entgegenspitzen, als wollten sie ihn aussaugen... Mit einem Schrei der Verzweiflung prallte er zur\u00fcck \u2013 und erwachte.\n\n\u00bbWar denn auch das ein Traum?\u00ab Sein Herz klopfte so, als wollte es zerrei\u00dfen, und er tastete mit den H\u00e4nden um sich. Ja, er liegt im Bett, in der gleichen Lage, in der er eingeschlafen war. Vor ihm ist der Bettschirm; das Mondlicht f\u00fcllt das Zimmer. Durch die Ritze im Bettschirm sieht er das Bild, es ist ordentlich in das Laken geh\u00fcllt, so wie er es selbst eingeschlagen hat. Es war also doch ein Traum! Aber seine zusammengeballte Hand hat noch immer das Gef\u00fchl, als halte sie etwas. Das Herz klopft ihm heftig, beinahe entsetzlich; die Last auf der Brust ist unertr\u00e4glich. Er heftet seine Augen auf die Ritze und starrt unverwandt auf das Laken. Da sieht er ganz deutlich, wie das Laken langsam aufgeht, als versuchten zwei H\u00e4nde hinter ihm, es abzuwerfen. \u00bbMein Gott, mein Gott, was ist das!\u00ab schrie er auf; er bekreuzigte sich voller Verzweiflung \u2013 und erwachte.\n\nAuch das war ein Traum! Er sprang halb wahnsinnig, fast bewu\u00dftlos aus dem Bett und konnte sich unm\u00f6glich erkl\u00e4ren, was mit ihm vorging: war es ein Alpdruck, ein Hausgeist, ein Fieberwahn oder eine lebendige Erscheinung. Indem er sich bem\u00fchte, seine Aufregung und seine gespannten Pulse, die er in allen Adern f\u00fchlte, ein wenig zu stillen, trat er ans Fenster und \u00f6ffnete eine Luke. Der kalte Wind, der ins Zimmer hereinwehte, brachte ihn wieder zum Bewu\u00dftsein. Das Mondlicht lag noch immer auf den D\u00e4chern und auf den wei\u00dfen Hausmauern, obwohl kleine Wolken immer \u00f6fter \u00fcber den Himmel zogen. Alles war still; nur ab und zu wurde das Rasseln einer fernen Droschke h\u00f6rbar, deren Kutscher in einer unsichtbaren Rebengasse, in Erwartung eines versp\u00e4teten Fahrgastes, von seiner faulen M\u00e4hre in den Schlaf gewiegt, auf dem Bocke duselte. Lange blickte er hinaus, den Kopf aus dem Fester gesteckt. Am Himmel zeigten sich schon die ersten Spuren des nahenden Morgenrots; schlie\u00dflich f\u00fchlte er M\u00fcdigkeit, schlug das Fenster zu, ging zum Bett, legte sich hin und versank bald in einen festen Schlaf.\n\nEr erwachte sehr sp\u00e4t mit dem unangenehmen Gef\u00fchl, das sich des Menschen nach einem Aufenthalte in einem dunstigen Raum bem\u00e4chtigt; sein Kopf schmerzte in einer unangenehmen Weise. Im Zimmer war es tr\u00fcbe; eine unangenehme Feuchtigkeit erf\u00fcllte die Luft und drang durch die Ritzen der mit Bildern und grundierter Leinwand verstellten Fenster ins Zimmer. Griesgr\u00e4mig, unzufrieden wie ein begossener Hahn setzte er sich auf sein zerfetztes Sofa und wu\u00dfte nicht, was er anfangen, was er unternehmen sollte; pl\u00f6tzlich erinnerte er sich seines Traumes. In dem Ma\u00dfe, als er sich auf alles besann, erschien ihm der Traum so bedr\u00fcckend, da\u00df ihm sogar ein Zweifel kam, ob es wirklich nur ein Traum und ein gew\u00f6hnliches Fieberdelirium gewesen sei, ob er nicht eine Vision gehabt habe. Er ri\u00df das Laken herunter und sah sich das seltsame Portr\u00e4t bei Tageslicht an. Die Augen waren tats\u00e4chlich von einer ungew\u00f6hnlichen Lebendigkeit, doch er konnte an ihnen nichts sonderlich Schreckliches finden; aber ein unerkl\u00e4rliches unangenehmes Gef\u00fchl blieb dennoch in seiner Seele. Bei alldem konnte er sich doch nicht ganz davon \u00fcberzeugen, da\u00df es nur ein Traum gewesen sei. Es schien ihm, als ob im Traume auch ein seltsamer Fetzen der Wirklichkeit enthalten gewesen w\u00e4re. Selbst der Blick und der Gesichtsausdruck des Alten schienen zu sagen, da\u00df er ihn in der letzten Nacht besucht habe; seine Hand f\u00fchlte noch immer die Schwere eines Gegenstandes, den sie erst eben gehalten habe und den ihr jemand vor einem Augenblick entrissen h\u00e4tte. Er hatte den Eindruck, da\u00df, wenn er die Rolle fester gehalten h\u00e4tte, sie auch nach dem Erwachen in seiner Hand geblieben w\u00e4re.\n\n\u00bbMein Gott, wenn ich doch nur einen Teil dieses Geldes haben k\u00f6nnte!\u00ab sagte er mit einem schweren Seufzer. In seiner Phantasie fielen alle die Rollen mit der verlockenden Inschrift \u00bb1000 Dukaten\u00ab wieder aus dem Sack. Die Papierh\u00fcllen \u00f6ffneten sich, das Gold blitzte auf und wurde wieder eingerollt, \u2013 er aber sa\u00df da, starrte regungslos und sinnlos in die leere Luft, au\u00dferstande, sich von diesem Bilde loszurei\u00dfen, wie ein Kind, das vor einer s\u00fc\u00dfen Speise sitzt und zusieht, wie sie die andern verzehren, w\u00e4hrend ihm das Wasser im Munde zusammenl\u00e4uft.\n\nPl\u00f6tzlich wurde an die T\u00fcr geklopft, und dieses Klopfen weckte Tschartkow auf eine h\u00f6chst unangenehme Weise. Es kam der Hausherr in Begleitung des Revieraufsehers, dessen Erscheinen f\u00fcr die kleinen Leute bekanntlich noch peinlicher ist als das Gesicht eines Bittstellers f\u00fcr den Reichen. Der Besitzer des kleinen Hauses, in dem Tschartkow wohnte, war eines der Gesch\u00f6pfe, wie sie die Hausbesitzer irgendwo in der f\u00fcnfzehnten Linie der Wassiljewskij-Insel, auf der Petersburger Seite oder in einem entlegenen Winkel der Kolomna-Vorstadt immer zu sein pflegen, ein Gesch\u00f6pf, wie es ihrer in Ru\u00dfland viele gibt und deren Charakter sich ebenso schwer bestimmen l\u00e4\u00dft wie die Farbe eines abgetragenen Rockes. In seiner Jugend war er Hauptmann und ein gro\u00dfer Schreier gewesen, wurde auch im Zivildienste verwendet, verstand sich meisterhaft aufs Pr\u00fcgeln, war r\u00fchrig, geckenhaft und dumm; aber im Alter vereinigten sich alle diese scharf ausgepr\u00e4gten Eigenschaften zu einem tr\u00fcben und ungewissen Gemisch. Er war schon verwitwet und au\u00dfer Dienst, trug sich nicht mehr elegant, prahlte nicht, war nicht mehr so rauflustig und liebte nur noch Tee zu trinken und dabei allerlei Unsinn zu schwatzen; er ging in seinem Zimmer auf und ab und putzte den Talglichtstummel; am Ende eines jeden Monats besuchte er p\u00fcnktlich seine Mieter und mahnte den Zins; oft trat er mit dem Schl\u00fcssel in der Hand auf die Stra\u00dfe, um sich das Dach seines Hauses anzusehen; er jagte einigemal am Tage den Hausknecht aus der Kammer, in die sich jener zum Schlafen verkroch; mit einem Wort, er war ein Mann au\u00dfer Dienst, dem nach dem ganzen z\u00fcgellosen Leben und den langen Fahrten in der sch\u00fcttelnden Postkutsche nur noch die gemeinsten Gewohnheiten \u00fcbrigblieben.\n\n\u00bbBelieben Sie doch selbst zu sehen, Waruch Kusmitsch,\u00ab sagte der Hausherr zum Revieraufseher, die H\u00e4nde spreizend: \u00bbEr zahlt nicht den Zins, er zahlt ihn einfach nicht.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas soll ich machen, wenn ich kein Geld habe! Warten Sie ein wenig, ich werde schon bezahlen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch kann nicht warten, V\u00e4terchen,\u00ab sagte der Hausherr erbost, die Hand mit dem Schl\u00fcssel schwingend. \u00bbDa wohnt bei mir der Oberstleutnant Potogonkin, seit sieben Jahren wohnt er schon bei mir; Anna Petrowna Buchmisterowa hat sich bei mir eine Magenremise und einen Stall f\u00fcr zwei Pferde gemietet, drei leibeigene Diener h\u00e4lt sie bei sich, \u2013 solche Leute habe ich hier bei mir wohnen! Offen gestanden, ist es bei mir nicht \u00fcblich, da\u00df die Mieter die Wohnung nicht bezahlen. Wollen Sie den Zins augenblicklich bezahlen oder die Wohnung r\u00e4umen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbJa, wenn Sie sich einmal verpflichtet haben, so belieben Sie zu zahlen,\u00ab sagte der Revieraufseher, indem er leicht den Kopf sch\u00fcttelte und seinen Finger zwischen zwei Kn\u00f6pfe seines Uniformrocks steckte.\n\n\u00bbAber womit soll ich bezahlen? Das ist die Frage. Ich habe jetzt keinen Heller.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIn diesem Falle entsch\u00e4digen Sie doch Iwan Iwanowitsch mit den Erzeugnissen Ihres Berufs,\u00ab sagte der Revieraufseher. \u00bbVielleicht wird er sich bereit erkl\u00e4ren, statt Geld Bilder zu nehmen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein, V\u00e4terchen, f\u00fcr die Bilder danke ich. Wenn es noch wenigstens Bilder mit einem vornehmen Inhalt w\u00e4ren, die man an die Wand h\u00e4ngen k\u00f6nnte: zum Beispiel irgendein General mit einem Ordensstern an der Brust oder ein Portr\u00e4t des F\u00fcrsten Kutusow; da hat er aber einen Bauern gemalt, einen ganz gew\u00f6hnlichen Bauern in einem Hemd, seinen Diener, der ihm die Farben reibt. Wie kommt das Schwein dazu, da\u00df man es abkonterfeit! Ich werde ihm noch den Buckel vollhauen: er hat mir alle N\u00e4gel aus den Riegeln herausgezogen, der Hallunke. Schauen Sie nur, was er f\u00fcr Gegenst\u00e4nde malt: sein eigenes Zimmer hat er gemalt. Wenn es wenigstens ein aufger\u00e4umtes und sauberes Zimmer w\u00e4re; er hat es aber mit dem ganzen Dreck, der bei ihm herumliegt, dargestellt. Schauen Sie nur, wie er mir das Zimmer verdreckt hat; sehen Sie es sich nur an! Andere Mieter wohnen bei mir zu sieben Jahren, Oberstleutnants, Anna Petrowna Buchmisterowa... Nein, ich sage Ihnen, es gibt keinen \u00e4rgeren Mieter als so einen Kunstmaler: er lebt wie ein Schwein, da\u00df Gott erbarm.\u00ab\n\nDas alles mu\u00dfte der arme Maler geduldig anh\u00f6ren. Der Revieraufseher betrachtete indessen die Bilder und Studien und zeigte dabei, da\u00df sein Herz doch lebendiger war als das des Hausherrn und da\u00df ihm sogar k\u00fcnstlerische Interessen nicht ganz fremd waren.\n\n\u00bbHe,\u00ab sagte er, mit dem Finger auf eine Leinwand tippend, auf der eine nackte Frau dargestellt war: \u00bbDas Sujet ist recht pikant... Und warum hat dieser da einen schwarzen Fleck unter der Nase? Hat er eine Prise genommen?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbEs ist ein Schatten,\u00ab antwortete Tschartkow m\u00fcrrisch, ohne ihn anzublicken.\n\n\u00bbNun, den Schatten h\u00e4tten Sie an eine andere Stelle setzen k\u00f6nnen, unter der Nase ist er viel zu sichtbar,\u00ab sagte der Revieraufseher. \u00bbUnd wessen Portr\u00e4t ist dieses da?\u00ab fuhr er fort, auf das Portr\u00e4t des Alten zugehend. \u00bbDer ist gar zu schrecklich! Ist er auch in Wirklichkeit so schrecklich? Mein Gott, er schaut ja einen wirklich an! Ein wahrer Donnerer! Wen haben Sie da abkonterfeit?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbEinen gewissen...\u00ab sagte Tschartkow und kam nicht weiter: etwas krachte. Der Revieraufseher hatte wohl den Rahmen des Portr\u00e4ts infolge der rohen Konstruktion seiner Polizeih\u00e4nde zu kr\u00e4ftig angefa\u00dft; die Seitenleisten brachen ein; eine von ihnen fiel zu Boden, und gleichzeitig fiel mit schwerem Klirren eine in blaues Papier eingewickelte Rolle herab. Tschartkow sah die Inschrift: \u00bb1000 Dukaten.\u00ab Wie wahnsinnig st\u00fcrzte er hin, packte die Rolle und dr\u00fcckte sie krampfhaft mit der Hand zusammen, die von der schweren Last abw\u00e4rts gezogen wurde.\n\n\u00bbHat nicht eben Geld geklirrt?\u00ab fragte der Revieraufseher, der etwas zu Boden fallen h\u00f6rte, aber infolge der Schnelligkeit, mit der sich Tschartkow \u00fcber die Rolle gest\u00fcrzt hatte, nicht sehen konnte, was es war.\n\n\u00bbWas geht es Sie an, was ich hier habe?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbDas geht mich insofern an, als Sie sofort dem Hausherrn den Zins bezahlen m\u00fcssen; denn Sie haben Geld und wollen nicht zahlen; das geht es mich an.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch werde ihn heute noch bezahlen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWarum wollten Sie dann nicht schon fr\u00fcher bezahlen und machen dem Hausherrn Scherereien, so da\u00df er die Polizei bel\u00e4stigen mu\u00df?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWeil ich dieses Geld nicht anr\u00fchren wollte. Ich werde ihn heute noch bezahlen und morgen ausziehen, denn ich will bei einem solchen Hausherrn nicht l\u00e4nger bleiben.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNun, Iwan Iwanowitsch, er wird bezahlen,\u00ab sagte der Revieraufseher, sich an den Hausherrn wendend. \u00bbWenn Sie aber bis heute abend nicht vollst\u00e4ndig befriedigt sind, so wird es der Herr Kunstmaler schon entschuldigen m\u00fcssen!\u00ab Mit diesen Worten setzte er seinen Dreimaster auf und verlie\u00df die Wohnung. Der Hausherr folgte ihm mit gesenktem Kopf und, wie es schien, in Gedanken versunken.\n\n\u00bbGott sei Dank, da\u00df der Teufel sie geholt hat!\u00ab sagte Tschartkow, als er die T\u00fcr im Vorzimmer ins Schlo\u00df fallen h\u00f6rte. Er blickte ins Vorzimmer hinaus, schickte Nikita fort, um ganz allein zu bleiben, schlo\u00df die T\u00fcr hinter ihm ab und begann, in sein Zimmer zur\u00fcckgekehrt, unter heftigem Herzklopfen die Rolle aufzuwickeln. Sie enthielt lauter funkelnagelneue und wie Feuer gl\u00e4nzende Dukaten. Fast wahnsinnig sa\u00df er \u00fcber dem goldenen Haufen und fragte sich immer noch: \u00bbIst es kein Traum?\u00ab Die Rolle enthielt genau tausend Dukaten; sie sah von au\u00dfen genau so aus, wie er sie im Traume gesehen hatte. Einige Minuten w\u00fchlte er in den Dukaten, musterte sie und konnte sich noch immer nicht beruhigen. In seiner Phantasie erwachten pl\u00f6tzlich alle Geschichten von den vergrabenen Sch\u00e4tzen und den Schatullen mit Geheimf\u00e4chern, die die Ahnen f\u00fcr ihre verarmten Enkel zur\u00fccklassen, fest davon \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df diese dereinst ruiniert sein werden. Er dachte sich: \u00bbIst es nicht irgendeinem Gro\u00dfvater eingefallen, seinem Enkel ein Geschenk zu hinterlassen und es in den Rahmen des Familienportr\u00e4ts einzuschlie\u00dfen?\u00ab Von einem romantischen Wahn erf\u00fcllt, fragte er sich sogar, ob hier nicht irgendein geheimnisvoller Zusammenhang mit seinem eigenen Schicksal bestehe. Ob die Existenz des Portr\u00e4ts nicht irgendwie mit seiner eigenen Existenz Zusammenh\u00e4nge und ob nicht schon in der blo\u00dfen Anschaffung des Portr\u00e4ts eine F\u00fcgung des Schicksals liege. Er begann neugierig den Rahmen des Portr\u00e4ts zu untersuchen. Dieser hatte an der einen Seite eine H\u00f6hlung, die so geschickt und unmerklich von einem Brettchen verdeckt war, da\u00df, wenn nicht die m\u00e4chtige Hand des Revieraufsehers den Bruch verursacht h\u00e4tte, die Dukaten wohl bis ans Ende aller Zeiten darin verborgen geblieben w\u00e4ren. Indem er das Portr\u00e4t betrachtete, bewunderte er wieder die herrliche Malerei und die ungew\u00f6hnliche Ausarbeitung der Augen: sie erschienen ihm nicht mehr schrecklich, aber in seiner Seele blieb noch immer ein unwillk\u00fcrliches unangenehmes Gef\u00fchl. \u00bbNein,\u00ab sagte er zu sich selbst, \u00bbwessen Gro\u00dfvater du auch seist, ich lasse dich daf\u00fcr hinter Glas und in einen goldenen Rahmen setzen.\u00ab Er legte die Hand auf den goldenen Haufen, und bei dieser Ber\u00fchrung fing sein Herz heftig zu klopfen an. \u00bbWas soll ich mit ihnen anfangen?\u00ab fragte er sich, die Dukaten anstarrend. \u00bbJetzt bin ich f\u00fcr wenigstens drei Jahre versorgt; ich kann mich in meinem Zimmer einschlie\u00dfen und arbeiten. Jetzt habe ich Geld f\u00fcr die Farben; auch f\u00fcr Essen, Tee, f\u00fcr alle Auslagen und f\u00fcr die Wohnung; nun wird mich niemand mehr st\u00f6ren und \u00e4rgern. Ich kaufe mir eine gute Gliederpuppe, bestelle mir einen Torso und ein Paar F\u00fc\u00dfe aus Gips, stelle mir eine Venus auf und schaffe mir Stiche nach den ersten Meistern an. Und wenn ich drei Jahre ohne \u00dcbereilung und nicht des Geldes wegen, f\u00fcr mich allein arbeite, \u00fcberhole ich sie alle und kann ein ber\u00fchmter K\u00fcnstler werden.\u00ab\n\nSo sprach er im Einklang mit der Vernunft, die ihm zufl\u00fcsterte; doch aus seinem Innern klang noch eine andere, lautere Stimme. Er sah das Gold noch einmal an, und seine zweiundzwanzig Jahre und seine \u00fcbersch\u00e4umende Jugend sagten etwas ganz anderes. Nun hatte er in seiner Macht alles, was er bisher nur aus der Ferne mit neidischen Augen angeschaut und bewundert hatte, w\u00e4hrend ihm das Wasser im Munde zusammenlief. Ach, wie klopfte ihm das Herz, als er daran dachte! Einen modernen Frack kaufen, sich nach den langen Fasten ordentlich sattessen, eine sch\u00f6ne Wohnung mieten, sofort ins Theater gehen, in eine Konditorei, in eine... und so weiter... Er packte das Geld und war mit einem Satze auf der Stra\u00dfe.\n\nZu allererst begab er sich zu einem Schneider, lie\u00df sich vom Kopf bis zu den F\u00fc\u00dfen neu bekleiden und betrachtete sich wie ein Kind fortw\u00e4hrend im Spiegel; er kaufte sich Parf\u00fcms und Pomade, mietete, ohne zu handeln, die erste beste Wohnung auf dem Newskij-Prospekt mit Spiegeln und gro\u00dfen Fensterscheiben; kaufte sich so ganz nebenbei ein teures Lorgnon, eine Menge Halsbinden, viel mehr als er brauchte, lie\u00df sich vom Friseur die Haare kr\u00e4useln, fuhr zweimal in einer feinen Equipage ohne jeden Zweck durch die Stadt, \u00fcbera\u00df sich in einer Konditorei an Konfekt und kehrte in ein franz\u00f6sisches Restaurant ein, von dem er bisher einen eben so unklaren Begriff gehabt hatte wie vom chinesischen Staate. Hier a\u00df er zu Mittag, die H\u00e4nde in die H\u00fcften gestemmt, mit hochm\u00fctigen Blicken die anderen G\u00e4ste musternd und sich in einem fort vor dem Spiegel die gebrannten Locken richtend. Hier trank er auch eine Flasche Champagner, den er bisher auch nur vom H\u00f6rensagen kannte. Der Wein stieg ihm in den Kopf; er trat auf die Stra\u00dfe lebhaft und unternehmungslustig und war, wie man in Ru\u00dfland sagt, \u00bbselbst dem Teufel kein Bruder\u00ab. Er ging stolz wie ein Pfau \u00fcber das Trottoir und musterte alle durch sein Lorgnon. Auf der Br\u00fccke gewahrte er seinen alten Professor und huschte geschickt an ihm vorbei, als h\u00e4tte er ihn gar nicht bemerkt. Der Professor stand noch lange wie zu Stein erstarrt auf der Br\u00fccke, w\u00e4hrend sein Gesicht ein Fragezeichen ausdr\u00fcckte.\n\nSeine ganze Habe \u2013 Staffelei, Rahmen, Bilder wurden noch am gleichen Abend in die neue prachtvolle Wohnung gebracht. Die besseren Sachen stellte er sichtbar auf, die weniger guten warf er in eine Ecke; dann ging er durch die prunkvollen Zimmer und betrachtete sich fortw\u00e4hrend in den Spiegeln. In seinem Herzen regte sich der un\u00fcberwindliche Wunsch, den Ruhm gleich auf der Stelle am Schwanze zu packen und sich der Welt zu zeigen. Er glaubte schon die Rufe zu h\u00f6ren: \u00bbTschartkow, Tschartkow! Haben Sie schon das Bild Tschartkows gesehen? Was f\u00fcr einen flotten Pinsel hat doch dieser Tschartkow! Welch ein starkes Talent!\u00ab Er ging verz\u00fcckt im seinem Zimmer auf und ab und schweifte in seiner Phantasie Gott wei\u00df wo herum. Am anderen Tag steckte er sich zehn Dukaten in die Tasche und begab sich zum Herausgeber einer verbreiteten Zeitung, um ihn um gro\u00dfm\u00fctige F\u00f6rderung zu bitten; der Journalist empfing ihn ungemein freundlich, sprach ihn mit \u00bbVerehrtester\u00ab an, dr\u00fcckte ihm beide H\u00e4nde, erkundigte sich eingehend nach dem Namen, Vatersnamen und Adresse, und schon am n\u00e4chsten Tag erschien in der Zeitung gleich nach einer Anzeige \u00fcber eine neuerfundene Sorte von Talglichtern ein Artikel mit der \u00dcberschrift: \u00bbVon der ungew\u00f6hnlichen Begabung Tschartkows!\u00ab \u2013 \u00bbWir beeilen uns, den gebildeten Bewohnern der Residenz zu einer neuen, man kann wohl sagen, in jeder Beziehung herrlichen Erscheinung zu gratulieren. Alle sind darin einig, da\u00df wir wohl eine Menge wunderbarer Physiognomien und sch\u00f6ner Gesichter haben; es fehlte aber bisher an einem Mittel, sie auf eine wundert\u00e4tige Leinwand zu bannen, um sie der Nachwelt zu \u00fcberliefern. Dieser Mangel ist jetzt aufgehoben; es hat sich ein Maler gefunden, der in sich alles, was man dazu braucht, vereinigt. Die Sch\u00f6ne kann jetzt \u00fcberzeugt sein, da\u00df sie mit der ganzen Grazie ihrer luftigen, leichten, bezaubernden, angenehmen, wunderbaren Anmut, die an einen \u00fcber Fr\u00fchlingsbl\u00fcten schwebenden Falter gemahnt, verewigt sein wird. Der ehrw\u00fcrdige Familienvater wird sich von seiner ganzen Familie umgeben sehen. Der Kaufmann, der Soldat, der B\u00fcrger, der Staatsmann, ein jeder wird seine T\u00e4tigkeit mit neuem Eifer fortsetzen k\u00f6nnen. Eilt, eilt, vom Spaziergang, vom Gange zu einem Freund, zu einer Kusine, in ein gl\u00e4nzendes Gesch\u00e4ft, eilt, woher es auch sei. Das gro\u00dfartige Atelier des K\u00fcnstlers (Newskij-Prospekt, Nummer soundsoviel) ist mit Werken seines Pinsels angef\u00fcllt, der eines Van Dyck und eines Tizian w\u00fcrdig w\u00e4re. Man wei\u00df nicht, wor\u00fcber man mehr staunen soll: \u00fcber die Naturtreue und die \u00c4hnlichkeit mit den Originalen, oder \u00fcber die ungew\u00f6hnliche Lebendigkeit und Frische der Pinself\u00fchrung. Ehre sei Ihnen, Herr K\u00fcnstler! Sie haben ein gl\u00fcckliches Los in der Lotterie gezogen. Vivat Andrej Petrowitsch! (der Journalist liebte wohl famili\u00e4re Wendungen). Machen Sie sich und auch uns ber\u00fchmt. Mir verstehen Sie zu sch\u00e4tzen. Der allgemeine Zulauf und zugleich auch irdische G\u00fcter, \u2013 obwohl mancher Journalist gegen diese k\u00e4mpft, \u2013 werden Ihr Lohn sein.\u00ab\n\nMit geheimer Wonne las der Maler diese Reklame, und sein Gesicht erstrahlte. Man sprach von ihm schon in der Presse, \u2013 das war f\u00fcr ihn neu. Einigemal las er die Zeilen durch. Der Vergleich mit Van Dyck und Tizian schmeichelte ihm sehr. Der Satz: \u00bbVivat Andrej Petrowitsch!\u00ab gefiel ihm gleichfalls sehr: man nannte ihn in der Zeitung mit seinem Vor- und Vatersnamen, \u2013 diese Ehre war ihm bisher ganz und gar unbekannt. Er fing an, mit schnellen Schritten auf und ab zu gehen und sich das Haar zu zerzausen; bald setzte er sich in einen Sessel, bald stand er auf und setzte sich auf das Sofa, wobei er sich immer vorstellte, wie er die Besucher und Besucherinnen empfangen w\u00fcrde; bald trat er vor die Leinwand und machte eine elegante Geste mit dem Pinsel, indem er sich bem\u00fchte, der Hand einen m\u00f6glichst grazi\u00f6sen Schwung zu verleihen.\n\nAm n\u00e4chsten Tage klingelte es an seiner T\u00fcr; er beeilte sich selbst aufzumachen. Es war eine Dame, in Begleitung eines Lakaien in pelzgef\u00fctterter Livree; zugleich mit der Dame erschien ihre Tochter, ein junges M\u00e4dchen von achtzehn Jahren.\n\n\u00bbMonsieur Tschartkow?\u00ab fragte die Dame.\n\nDer Maler verbeugte sich.\n\n\u00bbEs wird \u00fcber Sie so viel geschrieben; man sagt, Ihre Portr\u00e4ts seien der Gipfel der Vollkommenheit.\u00ab Mit diesen Worten nahm die Dame ihr Lorgnon vor die Augen und eilte zur Wand, an der jedoch nichts hing. \u00bbWo sind denn Ihre Portr\u00e4ts?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbMan hat sie hinausgetragen,\u00ab antwortete der Maler, etwas verwirrt. \u00bbIch bin soeben in diese Wohnung gezogen, und die Bilder sind unterwegs... sie sind noch nicht hier.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWaren Sie schon in Italien?\u00ab fragte die Dame, ihr Lorgnon auf ihn richtend, da sie nichts anderes fand, worauf sie es h\u00e4tte richten k\u00f6nnen.\n\n\u00bbNein, ich war noch nicht dort, wollte aber hin... Ich habe es \u00fcbrigens nur aufgeschoben... Hier ist ein Sessel; sind Sie nicht m\u00fcde?...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch danke, ich habe lange genug in der Equipage gesessen. Da sehe ich endlich Ihre Werke!\u00ab sagte die Dame, zu der Wand gegen\u00fcber laufend und das Lorgnon auf die auf dem Boden stehenden Studien, Skizzen, Perspektiven und Portr\u00e4ts richtend. _\u00bbC'est charmant_ , Lise! Lise, _venez ici_. Ein Zimmer im Stile Teniers'. Siehst du? Eine Unordnung, ein Durcheinander, ein Tisch, darauf eine B\u00fcste, eine Hand, eine Palette; da ist auch Staub... siehst du, wie der Staub gemalt ist! _C'est charmant!_ Und hier auf dem anderen Bilde eine Frau, die sich das Gesicht w\u00e4scht \u2013 _quelle jolie figure!_ Ach, ein B\u00e4uerlein! Lise! Lise! Ein B\u00e4uerlein im russischen Hemd! Siehst du: ein B\u00e4uerlein! Sie malen also nicht nur Portr\u00e4ts?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAch, das ist nichts... ich habe es nur zum Zeitvertreib gemacht... es sind Studien...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSagen Sie, welche Meinung haben Sie von den jetzigen Portr\u00e4tmalern? Nicht wahr, es gibt unter ihnen keinen, der wie Tizian w\u00e4re? Es fehlt diese Kraft im Kolorit, es fehlt diese... wie schade, da\u00df ich es Ihnen nicht russisch erkl\u00e4ren kann. (Die Dame war eine Liebhaberin der Malerei und hatte mit ihrem Lorgnon alle Galerien Italiens durchrast.) \u00dcbrigens Monsieur Nohl... ach, wie der malt! Welch ein ungew\u00f6hnlicher Pinsel! Ich finde, da\u00df seine Gesichter sogar mehr Ausdruck haben als die des Tizian. Sie kennen Monsieur Nohl nicht?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWer ist dieser Nohl?\u00ab fragte der Maler.\n\n\u00bbMonsieur Nohl. Ach, ist das ein Talent! Er hat ihr Portr\u00e4t gemalt, als sie erst zw\u00f6lf Jahre alt war. Sie m\u00fcssen unbedingt zu uns kommen. Lise, du wirst ihm dein Album zeigen. Wissen Sie, wir sind hergekommen, damit Sie sofort mit ihrem Portr\u00e4t beginnen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbGewi\u00df, ich bin sofort bereit.\u00ab Er schob im Nu die Staffelei mit einem fertig bespannten Rahmen heran, nahm die Palette in die Hand und richtete seinen Blick auf das blasse Gesichtchen der Tochter. W\u00e4re er Kenner der menschlichen Natur, so h\u00e4tte er darin sofort den Ausdruck einer beginnenden kindlichen Leidenschaft f\u00fcr B\u00e4lle, einer qu\u00e4lenden Langweile an Vormittagen und an Nachmittagen und des Wunsches, im neuen Kleide auf der Promenade herumzulaufen, die schweren Spuren eines stumpfen Eifers f\u00fcr allerlei K\u00fcnste, den ihr die Mutter zwecks Hebung ihrer Seele und ihrer Gef\u00fchle einfl\u00f6\u00dfte, gelesen. Der Maler sah aber in diesem zarten Gesichtchen nur die f\u00fcr den Pinsel verlockende, beinahe porzellanartige Durchsichtigkeit, die bezaubernde leichte Mattigkeit, den feinen, leuchtenden Hals und die aristokratische Zierlichkeit. Er machte sich schon im voraus bereit, zu triumphieren, die Leichtigkeit und den Glanz seines Pinsels zu zeigen, der bisher nur mit den harten Z\u00fcgen der rohen Modelle, den strengen Antiken und den Kopien nach einigen klassischen Meistern zu tun gehabt hatte. Er stellte sich schon im Geiste vor, wie ihm dieses zarte Gesichtchen geraten w\u00fcrde.\n\n\u00bbWissen Sie,\u00ab sagte die Dame mit einem sogar beinahe r\u00fchrenden Gesichtsausdruck: \u00bbIch m\u00f6chte... sie hat jetzt ein Kleid an; offen gestanden, m\u00f6chte ich sie nicht in diesem Kleide gemalt sehen, an das wir so gew\u00f6hnt sind: ich m\u00f6chte, sie w\u00e4re ganz einfach gekleidet und s\u00e4\u00dfe im Schatten gr\u00fcner B\u00e4ume; im Hintergrunde sollen aber irgendwelche Felder, Herden oder ein W\u00e4ldchen zu sehen sein... man soll es ihr nicht ansehen, da\u00df sie eben im Begriff ist, zu irgendeinem Ball oder einer modischen Abendunterhaltung zu fahren. Unsere B\u00e4lle t\u00f6ten, offen gestanden, die Seele und die letzten Reste der Gef\u00fchle... Einfachheit, verstehen Sie, ich m\u00f6chte mehr Einfachheit.\u00ab (Ach! In den Gesichtern der Mutter und der Tochter stand aber geschrieben, da\u00df sie schon so viel auf B\u00e4llen getanzt hatten, da\u00df sie fast w\u00e4chsern geworden waren.)\n\nTschartkow machte sich an die Arbeit: er setzte sein Modell in einen Sessel, durchdachte sich die Arbeit, fuhr mit dem Pinsel durch die Luft, fixierte im Geiste die Hauptpunkte, kniff einigemal ein Auge zusammen, beugte sich zur\u00fcck, sah noch einmal aus gr\u00f6\u00dferer Entfernung hin und begann mit der Untermalung, die auch sofort fertig war. Mit der Untermalung zufrieden, machte er sich an die Ausf\u00fchrung; die Arbeit ri\u00df ihn hin; er hatte schon alles vergessen, sogar da\u00df er sich in Gesellschaft aristokratischer Damen befand; er fing sogar an, gewisse Malerangewohnheiten zu zeigen und verschiedene Laute von sich zu geben und zu tr\u00e4llern, wie es oft die Maler tun, wenn sie mit der ganzen Seele bei der Arbeit sind. Er zwang sogar sein Modell, das zuletzt unruhig hin und her r\u00fcckte und gro\u00dfe M\u00fcdigkeit zeigte, ganz ungeniert mit einem blo\u00dfen Wink des Pinsels, den Kopf zu heben.\n\n\u00bbGenug, f\u00fcrs erste Mal ist es genug,\u00ab sagte die Dame.\n\n\u00bbNoch ein bi\u00dfchen!\u00ab bat der Maler, der ganz hingerissen war.\n\n\u00bbNein, es ist Zeit! Lise, es ist schon drei!\u00ab sagte sie, indem sie eine kleine Uhr, die an goldener Kette an ihrem G\u00fcrtel hing, hervorholte. Dann schrie sie auf: \u00bbAch, es ist schon so sp\u00e4t!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNur noch ein Weilchen!\u00ab sagte Tschartkow mit der flehenden Stimme eines Kindes.\n\nDie Dame schien aber diesmal gar nicht geneigt, seinen k\u00fcnstlerischen Bed\u00fcrfnissen entgegenzukommen und versprach, das n\u00e4chste Mal etwas l\u00e4nger zu bleiben.\n\n\u00bbEs ist aber \u00e4rgerlich,\u00ab dachte sich Tschartkow: \u00bbmeine Hand war gerade so sch\u00f6n in Schwung gekommen.\u00ab Und er erinnerte sich, da\u00df ihn niemand zu unterbrechen und zu st\u00f6ren wagte, als er noch in seinem Atelier auf der Wassiljewskij-Insel arbeitete; Nikita pflegte unbeweglich auf einem Fleck zu sitzen, und er konnte ihn, so lange er wollte, malen; Nikita brachte es sogar fertig, in der angegebenen Stellung einzuschlafen. Unzufrieden legte er Pinsel und Palette auf einen Stuhl und blieb nachdenklich vor der Leinwand stehen.\n\nEin Kompliment der vornehmen Dame weckte ihn aus seiner Versunkenheit. Er st\u00fcrzte zur T\u00fcre, um die beiden hinauszubegleiten; auf der Treppe erhielt er die Einladung, in der n\u00e4chsten Woche bei ihnen zu essen, und kehrte mit vergn\u00fcgter Miene in sein Zimmer zur\u00fcck. Die aristokratische Dame hatte ihn ganz bezaubert. Bisher hatte er solche Gesch\u00f6pfe als etwas Unerreichbares angesehen, als etwas, was nur dazu geboren sei, um in einer pr\u00e4chtigen Equipage mit livrierten Lakaien und einem eleganten Kutscher vorbeizusausen und einen gleichg\u00fcltigen Blick auf den im \u00e4rmlichen Mantel zu Fu\u00df vorbeigehenden Menschen zu werfen. Nun ist aber eines dieser Gesch\u00f6pfe in sein Zimmer getreten; er malt sein Bildnis und ist in ein aristokratisches Haus zum Essen geladen. Er war ungemein zufrieden und wie berauscht; daf\u00fcr belohnte er sich mit einem feinen Mittagessen und einem Theaterbesuch am Abend und fuhr wieder ohne jeden Zweck in einer vornehmen Equipage durch die Stadt.\n\nAlle diese Tage wollte ihm seine gewohnte Arbeit nicht in den Sinn. Er bereitete sich nur vor und wartete auf das L\u00e4uten an der T\u00fcr. Endlich kam die aristokratische Dame mit ihrer blassen Tochter wieder. Er lie\u00df sie Platz nehmen, r\u00fcckte die Leinwand heran, was er jetzt recht geschickt und mit einem Anspruch auf vornehme Manieren tat, und machte sich an die Arbeit. Der sonnige Tag und die gute Beleuchtung unterst\u00fctzten ihn. Er entdeckte in seinem grazi\u00f6sen Modell vieles, was, auf die Leinwand gebannt, dem Portr\u00e4t eine hohe Qualit\u00e4t verleihen k\u00f6nnte; er sah, da\u00df hier etwas Au\u00dferordentliches geschaffen werden konnte, wenn es ihm gel\u00e4nge, alles so vollendet wiederzugeben, wie ihm jetzt das Original erschien. Sein Herz fing sogar zu beben an, als er f\u00fchlte, da\u00df es ihm gelingen werde, etwas wiederzugeben, was den anderen entgangen war. Die Arbeit nahm ihn ganz gefangen; er versenkte sich in sie und dachte nicht mehr an die aristokratische Abstammung des Modells. Mit stockendem Atem sah er, wie ihm die leichten Z\u00fcge und das fast durchsichtige, zarte Fleisch des siebzehnj\u00e4hrigen M\u00e4dchens gerieten. Er erhaschte jede Schattierung, die gelblichen T\u00f6ne, den kaum sichtbaren bl\u00e4ulichen Anflug unter den Augen und war schon im Begriff, auch den kleinen Pickel, der auf der Stirne erbl\u00fcht war, festzuhalten, als er pl\u00f6tzlich die Stimme der Mutter vernahm: \u00bbAch, wozu das? Das ist nicht n\u00f6tig,\u00ab sagte die Dame. \u00bbAuch das... hier, an einigen Stellen... es scheint mir etwas gelb, und auch hier die dunklen Fleckchen.\u00ab Der Maler begann ihr zu erkl\u00e4ren, da\u00df gerade diese Fleckchen und der gelbe Ton sich besonders gut machten und die angenehmen und zarten T\u00f6ne des Gesichts bewirkten. Darauf bekam er zur Antwort, da\u00df sie gar nichts bewirkten und gar keinen Ton ausmachten und da\u00df es ihm nur so vorkomme. \u00bbAber erlauben Sie, da\u00df ich nur hier, an dieser Stelle ein wenig mit gelber Farbe nachfahre,\u00ab sagte der K\u00fcnstler einf\u00e4ltig. Aber man erlaubte es ihm nicht. Man erkl\u00e4rte ihm, da\u00df Lise heute ausnahmsweise etwas indisponiert sei und da\u00df sie sonst niemals gelb auss\u00e4he; ihr Gesicht sei vielmehr von einer erstaunlichen Frische. Traurig machte er sich an die Beseitigung dessen, was sein Pinsel auf die Leinwand gebannt hatte. Es verschwanden viele fast unmerkliche Z\u00fcge, und mit ihnen verschwand auch zum Teil die \u00c4hnlichkeit. Er begann dem Portr\u00e4t ganz gef\u00fchllos das allgemeine Kolorit zu verleihen, das man auswendig kennt und das selbst die nach der Natur gemalten Gesichter in kalte Idealgestalten verwandelt, wie man sie auf Sch\u00fclerarbeiten sieht. Aber die Dame war sehr zufrieden, da\u00df das verletzende Kolorit beseitigt war. Sie \u00e4u\u00dferte nur ihr Erstaunen dar\u00fcber, da\u00df die Arbeit so lange daure, und f\u00fcgte hinzu, da\u00df sie geh\u00f6rt habe, er pflege sonst ein Portr\u00e4t in zwei Sitzungen fertigzumachen. Der Maler wu\u00dfte nicht, was darauf zu antworten. Die Damen erhoben sich und schickten sich zum Gehen an. Er legte den Pinsel weg, begleitete sie bis zur T\u00fcr und stand dann lange nachdenklich und unbeweglich vor dem Portr\u00e4t.\n\nDas Portr\u00e4t blickte ihn ganz dumm an, aber in seinem Kopfe schwebten noch die leichten weiblichen Z\u00fcge, die Farben und luftigen T\u00f6ne, die er wahrgenommen und die sein Pinsel so grausam vernichtet hatte. Ganz von ihnen erf\u00fcllt, stellte er das Portr\u00e4t zur Seite und holte das K\u00f6pfchen der Psyche hervor, das er einst skizzenhaft hingeworfen und dann aufgegeben hatte. Es war ein geschickt gemaltes, aber durchaus ideales, kaltes Gesichtchen, das nur aus ganz allgemeinen Z\u00fcgen bestand, die sich noch nicht in lebendiges Fleisch gekleidet hatten. Um die Zeit totzuschlagen, fuhr er nun mit dem Pinsel nach und dachte dabei an alle Einzelheiten, die er im Gesicht des aristokratischen Modells wahrgenommen hatte. Jene Z\u00fcge und T\u00f6ne erstanden hier in der gel\u00e4uterten Form, in der sie erscheinen, wenn der K\u00fcnstler, nachdem er sich an der Natur sattgesehen, sich von ihr entfernt und ein ihr gleichwertiges Werk schafft. Die Psyche erwachte zum Leben, und die schwach angedeutete Idee wurde allm\u00e4hlich zu lebendigem Fleisch. Der Gesichtstypus des aristokratischen jungen M\u00e4dchens teilte sich wie von selbst der Psyche mit, und diese erhielt dadurch einen eigenartigen Ausdruck, der ihr den Wert eines wirklich originellen Werkes verlieh. Er hatte sich anscheinend wie im einzelnen, so auch im allgemeinen alles zunutze gemacht, was ihm das Original geboten, und versenkte sich ganz in diese Arbeit. Einige Tage lang war er nur mit ihr besch\u00e4ftigt. Bei dieser Arbeit trafen ihn auch die beiden bekannten Damen. Er hatte nicht Zeit gehabt, das Bild von der Staffelei zu nehmen. Beide Damen schrien freudig \u00fcberrascht auf und schlugen die H\u00e4nde zusammen.\n\n\u00bbLise, Lise! Ach, wie \u00e4hnlich! _Superbe, superbe!_ Wie sch\u00f6n ist doch Ihr Einfall, sie in ein griechisches Kost\u00fcm zu kleiden! Ach, diese \u00dcberraschung!\u00ab\n\nDer K\u00fcnstler wu\u00dfte nicht, wie den Damen die angenehme T\u00e4uschung auszureden. Geniert, mit gesenktem Kopf sagte er leise: \u00bbEs ist Psyche.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSie haben sie als Psyche dargestellt? _C'est charmant!\u00ab_ sagte die Mutter l\u00e4chelnd, worauf auch die Tochter l\u00e4chelte.\n\n\u00bbNicht wahr, Lise, es steht dir am besten, als Psyche dargestellt zu sein? _Quelle id\u00e9e d\u00e9licieuse!_ Aber diese Arbeit! Ein wahrer Correggio. Offen gestanden habe ich wohl viel von Ihnen gelesen und geh\u00f6rt, habe aber nicht gewu\u00dft, da\u00df Sie so ein Talent haben. Nein, Sie m\u00fcssen unbedingt auch mein Portr\u00e4t malen.\u00ab Die Dame wollte offenbar auch als eine Psyche dargestellt werden.\n\n\u2013 Was soll ich mit ihnen anfangen? \u2013 fragte sich der Maler. \u2013 Wenn sie es selbst wollen, so soll die Psyche als das gelten, was sie in ihr sehen wollen. \u2013 Dann sagte er laut: \u00bbWollen Sie noch ein wenig sitzen: ich will nur hie und da mit dem Pinsel nachfahren.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAch, ich f\u00fcrchte, da\u00df Sie sie... sie ist jetzt so \u00e4hnlich...\u00ab\n\nDer Maler erriet, da\u00df die Bef\u00fcrchtungen den gelben Ton betrafen, und beruhigte die beiden, indem er sagte, er wolle nur etwas mehr Glanz und Ausdruck den Augen verleihen. In Wirklichkeit qu\u00e4lte ihn doch zu sehr das Gewissen, und er wollte dem Portr\u00e4t wenigstens etwas mehr \u00c4hnlichkeit mit dem Original verleihen, damit ihm niemand absolute Schamlosigkeit vorwerfen k\u00f6nne. In der Gestalt der Psyche begannen nun in der Tat die Z\u00fcge des blassen M\u00e4dchens deutlicher hervorzutreten.\n\n\u00bbGenug!\u00ab sagte die Mutter, die schon bef\u00fcrchtete, da\u00df die \u00c4hnlichkeit allzu gro\u00df werden k\u00f6nnte. Dem Maler wurde jeglicher Lohn zuteil: ein L\u00e4cheln, Geld, Komplimente, ein herzlicher H\u00e4ndedruck und eine Einladung zum Mittagessen, \u2013 mit einem Worte, tausend schmeichelhafte Belohnungen.\n\nDas Portr\u00e4t erregte in der Stadt Aufsehen. Die Dame zeigte es ihren Freundinnen. Alle staunten \u00fcber die Kunst, mit der der Maler es verstanden hatte, die \u00c4hnlichkeit zu wahren und zugleich dem Original Anmut zu verleihen. Das letztere wurde nat\u00fcrlich nicht ohne Neid bemerkt. Der Maler war pl\u00f6tzlich von Auftraggebern belagert. Die ganze Stadt schien sich von ihm malen lassen zu wollen. An seiner T\u00fcr ging fortw\u00e4hrend die Klingel. Einerseits h\u00e4tte es f\u00fcr ihn gut sein k\u00f6nnen, da ihm die unendliche Mannigfaltigkeit der Gesichter eine gro\u00dfe Praxis bot. Zu seinem Ungl\u00fcck waren es aber lauter Menschen, mit denen es schwer auszukommen war; hastige, vielbesch\u00e4ftigte Menschen, oder solche, die der gro\u00dfen Welt angeh\u00f6rten und folglich noch mehr besch\u00e4ftigt als die anderen, und somit \u00e4u\u00dferst ungeduldig waren. Von allen Seiten wurde verlangt, da\u00df er gut und schnell arbeite.\n\nDer Maler sah bald die Unm\u00f6glichkeit ein, die Portr\u00e4ts wirklich zu vollenden, und da\u00df er es durch Geschicklichkeit und flotte Pinself\u00fchrung ersetzen m\u00fcsse: es galt nur das Ganze, den allgemeinen Ausdruck zu erfassen, ohne sich mit dem Pinsel in die feineren Einzelheiten zu versenken; es war, mit einem Wort, ganz unm\u00f6glich, der Natur in ihrer Vollendung nachzusp\u00fcren. Es ist au\u00dferdem zu bemerken, da\u00df die Menschen, die sich von ihm malen lie\u00dfen, noch viele andere Anspr\u00fcche an ihn stellten. Die Damen verlangten, da\u00df die Portr\u00e4ts vorwiegend die Seelen und die Charaktere darstellten, alles \u00fcbrige aber mitunter ganz weggelassen werden d\u00fcrfe: da\u00df alles Eckige abgerundet, jeder Fehler gegl\u00e4ttet und sogar wom\u00f6glich ganz vernachl\u00e4ssigt werde, \u2013 mit einem Wort, da\u00df das Portr\u00e4t in dem Beschauer Bewunderung, wenn nicht gar Liebe wecke. Darum nahmen auch die Damen, wenn sie ihm sa\u00dfen, mitunter einen solchen Ausdruck an, da\u00df der Maler nur so staunte: die eine bem\u00fchte sich, Melancholie, die andere Vertr\u00e4umtheit zu mimen; die dritte wollte um jeden Preis ihren Mund kleiner erscheinen lassen und spitzte ihn so, da\u00df er sich schlie\u00dflich in einen Punkt, kaum so gro\u00df wie ein Stecknadelkopf, verwandelte. Dabei verlangten sie von ihm alle \u00c4hnlichkeit und ungezwungene Nat\u00fcrlichkeit. Auch die M\u00e4nner waren durchaus nicht besser als die Damen: der eine wollte mit einer starken, energischen Wendung des Kopfes dargestellt werden. Der andere mit nach oben gerichteten durchgeistigten Augen; ein Gardeleutnant forderte, da\u00df aus seinen Augen Gott Mars blikke; der Zivilbeamte w\u00fcnschte, da\u00df sein Gesicht m\u00f6glichst viel Offenheit und Edelsinn ausdr\u00fccke, und da\u00df die Hand auf einem Buche mit der deutlich lesbaren Inschrift: \u00bbEr trat immer f\u00fcr die Wahrheit ein\u00ab ruhe.\n\nSolche Zumutungen machten den Maler anfangs schwitzen: alle diese Dinge wollten ja \u00fcberlegt sein, w\u00e4hrend man ihm nur wenig Zeit dazu lie\u00df. Endlich begriff er, was man von ihm wollte, und machte sich keine M\u00fche mehr. Schon aus wenigen Worten erfa\u00dfte er, als was sich der und jener dargestellt sehen wollte. Wer nach dem Gott Mars verlangte, dem malte er den Mars ins Gesicht; wer sich f\u00fcr einen Byron hielt, dem verlieh er die Pose und die Wendung Byrons. Wollte sich eine Dame als Corinna, Undine oder Aspasia dargestellt sehen, \u2013 er ging immer mit der gr\u00f6\u00dften Bereitwilligkeit auf alles ein und verlieh einem jeden au\u00dferdem auch eine gewisse Anmut, die bekanntlich niemals schadet, f\u00fcr die man dem Maler aber auch Un\u00e4hnlichkeit verzeiht. Bald staunte er selbst \u00fcber die wunderbare Schnelligkeit und Flottheit seines Pinsels. Die sich von ihm malen lie\u00dfen, waren aber selbstverst\u00e4ndlich entz\u00fcckt und erkl\u00e4rten ihn f\u00fcr ein Genie.\n\nTschartkow wurde in jeder Beziehung zu einem Modemaler. Er fing an, Diners zu besuchen, Damen in die Galerien und sogar auf die Promenade zu begleiten, sich elegant zu kleiden und laut zu verk\u00fcnden, da\u00df der K\u00fcnstler der Gesellschaft angeh\u00f6ren und seinen Stand hochhalten m\u00fcsse, w\u00e4hrend die K\u00fcnstler sich sonst wie die Schuster kleideten, kein Benehmen h\u00e4tten, den feineren Ton nicht beobachteten und jeder Bildung entbehrten. In seiner Wohnung und in seinem Atelier sah er auf \u00e4u\u00dferste Ordnung und Reinlichkeit; er stellte sich zwei gro\u00dfartige Lakaien an, nahm elegante Sch\u00fcler auf, wechselte einigemal am Tage allerlei Morgenanz\u00fcge und kr\u00e4uselte sich das Haar. Er vervollkommnete immer mehr seine Manieren, mit denen er die Besucher empfing, und widmete sich der Versch\u00f6nerung seines \u00c4u\u00dferen mit allen m\u00f6glichen Mitteln, um auf die Damen einen angenehmen Eindruck zu machen; mit einem Worte, bald konnte man in ihm den bescheidenen jungen Maler, der einst von niemand gesehen, in seinem Loch auf der Wassiljewskij-Insel gearbeitet hatte, nicht mehr wiedererkennen. \u00dcber die anderen Maler und \u00fcber die Kunst urteilte er nun sehr scharf: er behauptete, da\u00df den alten Meistern eine viel zu hohe Bedeutung zugemessen werde, da\u00df sie alle vor Raffael keine Menschen, sondern Heringe gemalt hatten; da\u00df es nur eine Einbildung der Beschauer sei, wenn behauptet werde, in diesen Bildern sei etwas Heiliges enthalten; da\u00df Michelangelo ein Prahler sei, der \u00fcberall nur mit seinen anatomischen Kenntnissen habe prahlen wollen; da\u00df ihm jede Grazie fehle, und da\u00df man den wahren Glanz und die wahre Kraft der Pinself\u00fchrung und des Kolorits nur heutzutage, im jetzigen Jahrhundert suchen d\u00fcrfe.\n\nSo brachte er die Rede nat\u00fcrlich und unwillk\u00fcrlich auf sich selbst. \u00bbNein,\u00ab pflegte er zu sagen, \u00bbich kann nicht verstehen, wie die andern sich so abm\u00fchen k\u00f6nnen: ein Mensch, der sich einige Monate mit einem Bilde plagt, ist meiner Ansicht nach ein Arbeiter und kein K\u00fcnstler; ich kann unm\u00f6glich glauben, da\u00df er Talent hat. Das Genie schafft k\u00fchn und schnell. Dieses Portr\u00e4t da\u00ab, sagte er, sich an die Besucher wendend, \u00bbhabe ich in zwei Tagen gemalt, dieses K\u00f6pfchen in einem Tag, dieses hier in einigen Stunden, und dieses in etwas mehr als einer Stunde. Nein, ich... ich mu\u00df gestehen, da\u00df ich es nicht als Kunst ansehen kann, was Strich auf Strich entsteht; es ist Handwerk und keine Kunst.\u00ab\n\nSo sprach er zu seinen Besuchern, und die Besucher staunten \u00fcber die Kraft und den Schwung seines Pinsels und stie\u00dfen sogar Rufe des Erstaunens aus, als sie h\u00f6rten, wie schnell die Werke entstanden waren. Hinterher sagten sie zueinander: \u00bbDas ist ein Talent! Ein wahres Talent! Schauen Sie nur, wie er spricht, wie seine Augen leuchten! _Il a quelque chose d'extraordinaire dans toute sa figure!\u00ab_\n\nEs schmeichelte dem K\u00fcnstler, solche \u00c4u\u00dferungen zu h\u00f6ren. Wenn in den Zeitungen lobende Aufs\u00e4tze erschienen, freute er sich wie ein Kind, obwohl er das Lob mit eigenem Gelde bezahlt hatte. Er trug so ein Zeitungsblatt immer bei sich und zeigte es wie zuf\u00e4llig seinen Bekannten und Freunden, und das machte ihm selbst eine einf\u00e4ltige Freude. Sein Ruhm wuchs, und er hatte immer mehr Arbeit und Auftr\u00e4ge. Schon fingen ihn die immer gleichen Portr\u00e4ts und Gesichter, deren Posen und Wendungen er auswendig kannte, zu langweilen an. Er malte sie schon ohne gro\u00dfe Lust und bem\u00fchte sich nur irgendwie den Kopf zu skizzieren, \u00fcberlie\u00df aber die Vollendung seinen Sch\u00fclern. Fr\u00fcher hatte er sich noch immerhin bem\u00fcht, eine neue Stellung zu erfinden, den Beschauer durch Kraft und Effekt zu verbl\u00fcffen. Jetzt langweilte ihn aber auch das schon. Sein Geist war zu m\u00fcde, Neues zu erfinden. Das konnte er nicht mehr und hatte auch keine Zeit dazu: das Leben voller Zerstreuung und die Gesellschaft, in der er eine Rolle spielen wollte, lenkte ihn von der Arbeit und vom Denken ab. Sein Pinsel wurde k\u00e4lter und stumpfer, und er schlo\u00df sich f\u00fcr sich selbst unmerklich in eint\u00f6nige, bestimmte, l\u00e4ngst abgeleierte Formen ein. Die gleichf\u00f6rmigen, kalten, zugekn\u00f6pften, immer gepflegten Gesichter der Milit\u00e4r- und Zivilbeamten boten seinem Pinsel kein zu weites Feld; er interessierte sich nicht mehr f\u00fcr die prunkvollen Drapierungen, f\u00fcr die starken Bewegungen und Leidenschaften. Von geschickten Gruppierungen, k\u00fcnstlerischer Dramatik und erhabener Komposition war nicht mehr die Rede; er sah vor sich nur die Uniform, das Korsett und den Frack, vor denen der wahre K\u00fcnstler nur K\u00e4lte empfindet und jede Phantasie schwindet. An seinen Werken konnte man nun auch die gew\u00f6hnlichsten Qualit\u00e4ten nicht mehr finden, und trotzdem wurden sie noch immer gekauft und erfreuten sich der Ber\u00fchmtheit, obwohl die wahren Kenner und K\u00fcnstler beim Anblick seiner letzten Arbeiten nur die Achseln zuckten. Manche aber, die Tschartkow fr\u00fcher gekannt hatten, konnten unm\u00f6glich begreifen, wie ein Talent, dessen Anzeichen sich in ihm einst so leuchtend offenbart hatten, so spurlos verschwinden konnte, und bem\u00fchten sich zu ergr\u00fcnden, wie im Menschen eine Begabung zu einer Zeit erl\u00f6schen konnte, wo er gerade die volle Entfaltung aller seiner Kr\u00e4fte erreicht.\n\nDer berauschte K\u00fcnstler h\u00f6rte aber von diesem Gerede nichts. Er war schon wie an Geist, so auch an Jahren gereift: er fing an dick zu werden und in die Breite zu gehen. In den Zeitungen und Zeitschriften las er schon die Epitheta: \u00bbUnser verehrter Andrej Petrowitsch, unser hochverdienter Andrej Petrowitsch.\u00ab Schon bot man ihm allerlei Ehren\u00e4mter an und lud ihn zur Teilnahme an Pr\u00fcfungen und Komitees ein. Schon fing er an, wie es alle \u00e4lteren Leute tun, f\u00fcr Raffael und die alten Meister Partei zu ergreifen, doch nicht etwa, weil er sich von ihrem hohen Werte \u00fcberzeugt h\u00e4tte, sondern um sie den jungen K\u00fcnstlern vor die Nase zu reiben. Schon fing er an, wie es in diesem reifen Alter \u00fcblich ist, der ganzen Jugend, ohne Ausnahme, Unmoral und schlechte Gesinnung vorzuwerfen. Schon glaubte er, da\u00df alles in dieser Welt h\u00f6chst einfach gesch\u00e4he, da\u00df es eine Inspiration von oben gar nicht g\u00e4be und da\u00df alles dem gleichen strengen Gesetze der Ordnung und Gleichf\u00f6rmigkeit unterworfen werden m\u00fcsse. Mit einem Worte, sein Leben erreichte schon jenes Alter, wo alles, was im Menschen dr\u00e4ngt und atmet, zusammenschrumpft, wo die T\u00f6ne des machtvollen Bogens immer schw\u00e4cher in sein Inneres dringen und sich nicht mehr als gellende T\u00f6ne um sein Herz winden, wo die Ber\u00fchrung mit der Sch\u00f6nheit keine jungfr\u00e4ulichen Kr\u00e4fte mehr in Feuer und Flamme verwandelt, wo aber alle zu Asche verbrannten Gef\u00fchle dem Klirren des Goldes zug\u00e4nglicher werden, seiner verlockenden Musik immer aufmerksamer lauschen und sich von ihr unmerklich einschl\u00e4fern lassen. Der Ruhm kann einem, der ihn gestohlen und nicht verdient hat, keinen Genu\u00df geben: er l\u00e4\u00dft nur einen, der seiner w\u00fcrdig ist, erzittern. Darum wandten sich all seine Gef\u00fchle und sein ganzes Streben dem Golde zu. Das Gold wurde ihm zur Leidenschaft, zum Ideal, zur Angst, zum Genu\u00df, zum Ziel. Die Haufen von Banknoten in seinen Truhen wuchsen best\u00e4ndig, und wie jeder, dem diese schreckliche Gabe zuf\u00e4llt, fing er an sich zu langweilen, zu einem gegen alles au\u00dfer Gold gleichg\u00fcltigen, sinnlosen Geizhals und Sammler zu werden und war schon im Begriff, sich in eines jener sonderbaren Gesch\u00f6pfe zu verwandeln, von denen es in unserer gef\u00fchllosen Welt so viele gibt, auf die ein lebendiger f\u00fchlender Mensch nur mit Grauen blickt und dem sie als wandelnde steinerne S\u00e4rge erscheinen, die eine Leiche an Stelle eines Herzens bergen. Aber ein Ereignis ersch\u00fctterte ihn m\u00e4chtig und weckte alles Lebendige in ihm.\n\nEines Tages fand er auf seinem Tisch ein Schreiben, mit dem die Akademie der K\u00fcnste ihn, als ihr w\u00fcrdigstes Mitglied, aufforderte, zu kommen, um ein Urteil \u00fcber ein neues Werk abzugeben, das ein russischer K\u00fcnstler aus Italien, wo er sich vervollkommnete, geschickt hatte. Dieser K\u00fcnstler war einer seiner einstigen Kollegen, der von fr\u00fchester Jugend an eine Leidenschaft f\u00fcr die Kunst in sich trug und sich mit der gl\u00fchenden Seele eines Eiferers in sie versenkte; er hatte sich von seinen Freunden, Verwandten, von allen seinen geliebten Gewohnheiten losgerissen und war dorthin geeilt, wo unter dem sch\u00f6nen Himmel die gro\u00dfartige Pflanzst\u00e4tte der K\u00fcnste bl\u00fcht, \u2013 in das herrliche Rom, dessen Name allein das feurige Herz eines K\u00fcnstlers so voll und m\u00e4chtig schlagen l\u00e4\u00dft. Dort vertiefte er sich wie ein Einsiedler in die Arbeit und lie\u00df sich durch nichts von ihr ablenken. Er k\u00fcmmerte sich nicht darum, was man von seinem Charakter sprach, von seiner Unf\u00e4higkeit, mit Menschen umzugehen, von seiner Mi\u00dfachtung gegen die Sitten der Gesellschaft und von der Erniedrigung, die er der Kunst durch seinen \u00e4rmlichen, uneleganten Anzug zuf\u00fcgte. Er k\u00fcmmerte sich nicht darum, ob ihm seine Kollegen z\u00fcrnten oder nicht. Unerm\u00fcdlich besuchte er die Galerien und stand stundenlang vor den Werken der gro\u00dfen Meister, um ihrer wunderbaren Pinself\u00fchrung nachzusp\u00fcren. Er vollendete kein Werk, ohne sich zuvor vor diesen gro\u00dfen Lehrmeistern gepr\u00fcft und aus ihren Werken einen stummen doch beredten Rat geholt zu haben. Er beteiligte sich nicht an den ger\u00e4uschvollen Gespr\u00e4chen und Debatten und trat weder f\u00fcr noch gegen die Puristen ein. Er lie\u00df einem jeden Gerechtigkeit widerfahren und sch\u00f6pfte aus allem nur das, was darin wirklich sch\u00f6n war; zuletzt erkor er sich den g\u00f6ttlichen Raffael zu seinem einzigen Lehrer, \u2013 ebenso wie ein gro\u00dfer Meister der Dichtkunst, der verschiedene, von vielen Vorz\u00fcgen und erhabenen Sch\u00f6nheiten erf\u00fcllte Werke gelesen hat, zuletzt nur Homers Ilias als einziges Handbuch beh\u00e4lt, nachdem er gefunden, da\u00df sie alles, was man nur wolle, enthalte und da\u00df es nichts g\u00e4be, was sich nicht schon in ihr in einer tiefen und gro\u00dfen Vollkommenheit widerspiegelte. Daf\u00fcr hatte der K\u00fcnstler aus dieser Schule eine erhabene Idee des Schaffens, eine m\u00e4chtige Sch\u00f6nheit des Denkens und eine hohe Vollkommenheit seines himmlischen Pinsels gesch\u00f6pft.\n\nAls Tschartkow in den Saal trat, traf er bereits eine Menge von Geladenen an, die sich vor dem Bilde versammelt hatten. Ein tiefes Schweigen, wie es in einer so gro\u00dfen Ansammlung von Kunstkennern nur selten anzutreffen ist, herrschte diesmal im ganzen Saal. Er beeilte sich, eine vielsagende Kennermiene aufzusetzen, und n\u00e4herte sich dem Bilde. Gott, was erblickte er da!\n\nKeusch, makellos und sch\u00f6n wie eine Braut stand vor ihm das Kunstwerk. Bescheiden, g\u00f6ttlich, unschuldig und einfach wie ein Genie erhob es sich \u00fcber allem. Die himmlischen Gestalten schienen, wie \u00fcber die vielen auf sie gerichteten Blicke erstaunt, ihre sch\u00f6nen Wimpern schamhaft zu senken. Mit dem Gef\u00fchl eines unwillk\u00fcrlichen Staunens betrachteten die Kenner dieses neue, nie gesehene Werk. Alles schien hier vereint: das Studium Raffaels, das sich im hohen Adel der Stellungen spiegelte, das Studium Correggios, von dem die Vollendung der Pinself\u00fchrung zeugte. M\u00e4chtiger als alles sprach aber daraus die in der Seele des K\u00fcnstlers selbst eingeschlossene Sch\u00f6pfergabe. Auch der letzte Gegenstand im Bilde war von ihr durchdrungen; in allen Dingen war das Gesetz und die innere Kraft erfa\u00dft; wie auch jene sanfte Rundung der Linien, die in der Natur enthalten ist und die nur das Auge des sch\u00f6pferischen K\u00fcnstlers ersp\u00e4ht, w\u00e4hrend sie beim Kopisten eckig ger\u00e4t. Man sah, wie der K\u00fcnstler alles, was er aus der \u00e4u\u00dferen Welt gesch\u00f6pft, zuerst in seine eigene Seele eingeschlossen und dann erst dieser innersten Quelle als einen harmonischen, feierlichen Gesang entsteigen lassen hatte. Und es wurde selbst den Uneingeweihten klar, was f\u00fcr ein unerme\u00dflicher Abgrund zwischen einem Kunstwerk und einer einfachen Kopie nach der Natur liegt. Es ist fast unm\u00f6glich, die ungew\u00f6hnliche Stille zu beschreiben, von der alle, die ihre Blicke auf das Bild hefteten, ergriffen waren: kein Ger\u00e4usch, kein Ton; das Bild erschien aber von Minute zu Minute erhabener: immer strahlender und wunderbarer l\u00f6ste es sich von allem, was es umgab, los und wurde zuletzt zu einem Augenblick, zur Frucht des dem K\u00fcnstler vom Himmel eingegebenen Gedankens, \u2013 zu einem Augenblick, vor dem das ganze Leben des Menschen nur als eine Vorbereitung erschien. Die G\u00e4ste, die das Bild umringten, waren dem Weinen nahe. Alle Geschmacksrichtungen, alle k\u00fchnen und gesetzwidrigen Verirrungen des Geschmacks schienen sich zu einer stummen Hymne auf das g\u00f6ttliche Werk zu vereinigen.\n\nUnbeweglich, mit offenem Munde stand Tschartkow vor dem Bilde und kam erst dann wieder zu sich, als die G\u00e4ste und Kenner allm\u00e4hlich das Schweigen brachen, um \u00fcber den hohen Wert des Werkes zu sprechen, und sich an ihn mit der Bitte wandten, seine Meinung zu \u00e4u\u00dfern. Er wollte schon seine gewohnte, gleichg\u00fcltige Miene aufsetzen, er wollte eine der \u00fcblichen, abgeschmackten Ansichten verh\u00e4rteter K\u00fcnstler zum besten geben, wie: \u00bbJa, gewi\u00df, man kann dem K\u00fcnstler die Begabung wohl nicht absprechen; es ist schon etwas daran; man sieht, da\u00df er etwas ausdr\u00fccken wollte; was aber die Hauptsache betrifft...\u00ab und dann selbstverst\u00e4ndlich einiges Lob hinzuf\u00fcgen, das keinem K\u00fcnstler wohlbekommen w\u00e4re, er wollte es tun, aber die Worte erstarben auf seinen Lippen, Tr\u00e4nen und Schluchzen entrangen sich ihm, und er st\u00fcrzte wie ein Wahnsinniger aus dem Saal.\n\nEine Minute lang stand er unbeweglich und bewu\u00dftlos mitten in seinem gro\u00dfartigen Atelier. Sein tiefstes Wesen, sein ganzes Leben war in einem Augenblick erwacht, als w\u00e4re seine Jugend zur\u00fcckgekehrt, als seien die erloschenen Funken seines Talents von neuem entfacht. Von seinen Augen fiel pl\u00f6tzlich die Binde. Oh Gott! So erbarmungslos die besten Jahre seiner Jugend zugrunde richten, den Funken des Feuers verl\u00f6schen, das vielleicht in seiner Brust gegl\u00fcht hatte, das sich vielleicht jetzt in Majest\u00e4t und Sch\u00f6nheit entwickelt und vielleicht ebensolche Tr\u00e4nen der Bewunderung und der Dankbarkeit hervorgerufen h\u00e4tte! Dies alles zugrunde richten, ohne jedes Mitleid zugrunde richten! In diesem Augenblick schien die ganze Spannung, das ganze Streben seiner Seele, das er einst so gut gekannt hatte, wieder erwacht. Er ergriff den Pinsel und trat vor die Leinwand. Schwei\u00df der Anstrengung trat ihm auf die Stirn; er verwandelte sich ganz in einen einzigen Wunsch, er entbrannte in einem einzigen Gedanken: er wollte einen gefallenen Engel darstellen. Dieses Thema entsprach am besten dem Zustande seiner Seele. Aber ach! Seine Figuren, Posen, Gruppierungen und Einf\u00e4lle gerieten gezwungen und unharmonisch. Sein Pinsel und seine Phantasie hatten sich zu sehr in enge Grenzen eingeschlossen, und der ohnm\u00e4chtige Versuch, alle Schranken und Fesseln, die er sich selbst auferlegt hatte, zu sprengen, erweckte den Eindruck von Fehlerhaftigkeit und Unnatur. Er hatte die erm\u00fcdend lange Stufenleiter der allm\u00e4hlich zu erwerbenden Kenntnisse und die ersten Elementargesetze der k\u00fcnftigen Gr\u00f6\u00dfe mi\u00dfachtet. Er f\u00fchlte Verdru\u00df. Er lie\u00df alle seine letzten Werke, alle die leblosen Modebildchen, die Portr\u00e4ts von Husaren, Damen und Staatsr\u00e4ten aus seinem Atelier entfernen; er schlo\u00df sich allein in seinem Zimmer ein, befahl niemand vorzulassen und versenkte sich ganz in die Arbeit. Wie ein geduldiger J\u00fcngling, wie ein Sch\u00fcler sa\u00df er an seiner Arbeit. Aber wie grausam undankbar war alles, was unter seinem Pinsel erstand! Auf jedem Schritt hemmte ihn die Unkenntnis der urspr\u00fcnglichsten Elemente; die einfache bedeutungslose Technik k\u00fchlte seinen ganzen Eifer und stand vor seiner Phantasie als eine Schwelle, die sie nicht zu \u00fcbertreten vermochte. Sein Pinsel wandte sich unwillk\u00fcrlich den auswendig gelernten Formen zu, die H\u00e4nde falteten sich immer auf die gleiche angelernte Weise, die K\u00f6pfe wagten es nicht, eine ungew\u00f6hnliche Stellung anzunehmen, selbst die Falten der Gew\u00e4nder erinnerten an angelernte Formeln und wollten sich den ihnen unbekannten K\u00f6rperstellungen nicht f\u00fcgen. Und all das f\u00fchlte und sah er selbst!\n\n\u00bbHabe ich aber wirklich einmal Talent gehabt?\u00ab fragte er sich endlich: \u00bbHabe ich mich nicht get\u00e4uscht?\u00ab Mit diesen Worten ging er auf seine fr\u00fcheren Werke zu, die er einst so keusch, so uneigenn\u00fctzig, dort, in der elenden Kammer auf der entlegenen Wassiljewskij-Insel geschaffen hatte, fern von allen Menschen, frei von \u00dcberflu\u00df und Launen. Er ging nun auf sie zu und begann sie aufmerksam zu betrachten, und zugleich mit ihnen erstand vor ihm sein ganzes fr\u00fcheres \u00e4rmliches Leben. \u00bbJa,\u00ab sagte er sich verzweifelt, \u00bbich habe wohl ein Talent gehabt! \u00dcberall, an allem sehe ich seine Anzeichen und Spuren...\u00ab\n\nEr hielt inne und erzitterte pl\u00f6tzlich am ganzen Leibe: seine Augen begegneten anderen Augen, die ihn regungslos anstarrten. Es war jenes ungew\u00f6hnliche Portr\u00e4t, das er im Schtschukinschen Kaufhause gekauft hatte. Es war die ganze Zeit \u00fcber von andern Bildern verstellt gewesen und ihm ganz aus dem Ged\u00e4chtnis geschwunden. Aber jetzt, als alle die modischen Portr\u00e4ts und Bilder, die sein Atelier gef\u00fcllt hatten, entfernt waren, blickte es pl\u00f6tzlich zugleich mit den fr\u00fcheren Werken seiner Jugend hervor. Als er sich der ganzen sonderbaren Geschichte des Bildes erinnerte, als er sich erinnerte, da\u00df dieses seltsame Portr\u00e4t gewisserma\u00dfen die Ursache seiner Wandlung gewesen war, da\u00df der Schatz, den er auf eine so wunderbare Weise gewonnen, in ihm alle die eitlen Regungen, die sein Talent zugrunde gerichtet, geweckt hatte, \u2013 verfiel er beinahe in Raserei. Er lie\u00df das verha\u00dfte Portr\u00e4t augenblicklich hinaustragen. Aber die seelische Erregung wollte sich trotzdem nicht legen: alle seine Gef\u00fchle, sein ganzes Wesen waren bis auf den Grund ersch\u00fcttert, und er erfuhr jene entsetzliche Qual, die in der Natur nur als erstaunliche Ausnahme vorkommt, wenn ein schwaches Talent versucht, sich in einem Werke zu \u00e4u\u00dfern, das sein K\u00f6nnen \u00fcbersteigt, \u2013 jene Qual, die in der Seele des J\u00fcnglings auch Gro\u00dfes zeugen kann, aber in einem Manne, der die Grenze der Jugendtr\u00e4ume \u00fcberschritten hat, sich in einen fruchtlosen Durst verwandelt, \u2013 jene schreckliche Qual, die den Menschen zu schrecklichen Verbrechen f\u00e4hig macht. Seiner bem\u00e4chtigte sich ein schrecklicher, an Raserei grenzender Neid. Die Galle trat ihm ins Gesicht, wenn er nur ein Werk erblickte, das den Stempel eines Talents trug. Er knirschte mit den Z\u00e4hnen und verzehrte es mit den Blicken eines Basilisken. In seiner Seele entstand der teuflischste Plan, den ein Mensch je gehegt hat, und er begann ihn mit rasender Energie zu verwirklichen. Er fing an, alles Beste, was die Kunst je hervorgebracht, zusammenzukaufen. Sobald er ein gutes Bild um teures Geld erstanden, brachte er es behutsam in sein Zimmer, st\u00fcrzte sich mit der Mut eines Tigers dar\u00fcber, zerri\u00df und zerschnitt es in St\u00fccke und trat es mit den F\u00fc\u00dfen; das alles begleitete er mit einem woll\u00fcstigen Gel\u00e4chter. Die zahllosen von ihm aufgespeicherten Geldmittel lieferten ihm alle Mittel, um dieses h\u00f6llische Bed\u00fcrfnis zu befriedigen. Er band alle seine Gelds\u00e4cke auf und \u00f6ffnete alle seine Truhen. Kein Ungeheuer der Barbarei hat noch so viele herrliche Kunstwerke vernichtet, wie dieser w\u00fctende R\u00e4cher. Auf allen Auktionen, bei denen er erschien, mu\u00dfte ein jeder jede Hoffnung auf den Erwerb eines Kunstwerkes aufgeben. Es war, als h\u00e4tte der erz\u00fcrnte Himmel selbst diese furchtbare Gei\u00dfel in die Welt geschickt, um ihr ihre ganze Harmonie zu nehmen. Diese f\u00fcrchterliche Leidenschaft verlieh ihm ein grauenhaftes Kolorit: sein Gesicht war immer gelb vor Galle. Weltverachtung und Weltverleugnung spiegelten sich in seinen Z\u00fcgen. In ihm hatte sich gleichsam jener schreckliche D\u00e4mon verk\u00f6rpert, den Puschkin in idealisierter Gestalt geschildert. Aus seinem Munde kam nichts als giftige Worte und ewiger Tadel. Er glich einer Harpye, und wenn ihn jemand, selbst einer von seinen Bekannten, auf der Stra\u00dfe von weitem erblickte, so beeilte er sich, ihm aus dem Wege zu gehen und behauptete, da\u00df eine solche Begegnung gen\u00fcge, um einem Menschen den ganzen Tag zu vergiften.\n\nZum Gl\u00fcck f\u00fcr die Welt und f\u00fcr die Kunst konnte solch ein gespanntes und gewaltt\u00e4tiges Leben nicht lange dauern: das Ma\u00df der Leidenschaften war f\u00fcr seine schwachen Kr\u00e4fte zu unregelm\u00e4\u00dfig und kolossal. Anf\u00e4lle von Raserei und Wahnsinn kamen immer \u00f6fter, und schlie\u00dflich wurde das alles zu einer schrecklichen Krankheit. Ein grausames Fieber, mit galoppierender Schwindsucht vereint, fiel so heftig \u00fcber ihn her, da\u00df von ihm schon nach drei Tagen nur ein Schatten \u00fcbrigblieb. Dazu gesellten sich auch alle Anzeichen eines hoffnungslosen Irrsinns. Manchmal konnten ihn selbst mehrere M\u00e4nner nicht festhalten. Die l\u00e4ngstvergessenen, lebendigen Augen des ungew\u00f6hnlichen Portr\u00e4ts schwebten ihm immer \u00f6fter vor, und dann wurde seine Raserei ganz entsetzlich. Alle, die sein Krankenlager umstanden, erschienen ihm als grauenhafte Portr\u00e4ts. Das Portr\u00e4t verdoppelte, vervierfachte sich vor seinen Augen; alle W\u00e4nde schienen mit Portr\u00e4ts bedeckt zu sein, die in ihn ihre unbeweglichen, lebendigen Augen bohrten; schreckliche Portr\u00e4ts blickten von der Decke und vom Boden: das Zimmer dehnte und verl\u00e4ngerte sich in die Unendlichkeit, um m\u00f6glichst viel dieser unbeweglichen Augen fassen zu k\u00f6nnen. Der Arzt, der sich verpflichtet hatte, ihn zu behandeln, und der schon einiges von seiner seltsamen Geschichte geh\u00f6rt hatte, gab sich alle M\u00fche, den geheimen Zusammenhang zwischen den Gespenstern, die jener sah, und den Ereignissen seines Lebens zu ergr\u00fcnden, brachte es aber nicht fertig. Der Kranke begriff und f\u00fchlte nichts au\u00dfer seinen Qualen und gab nur schreckliche Schreie und unverst\u00e4ndliche Worte von sich. Endlich ri\u00df sein Lebensfaden in einem letzten, bereits lautlosen Schmerzensausbruch. Der Anblick seiner Leiche war schrecklich. Von seinen gro\u00dfen Reicht\u00fcmern konnte man nichts finden; als man aber die zerschnittenen St\u00fccke der erhabenen Kunstwerke, deren Wert Millionen \u00fcberstieg, fand, begriff man, was er f\u00fcr einen entsetzlichen Gebrauch von ihnen gemacht hatte.\n\n### II\n\nEine Menge von Equipagen, Droschken und Kutschen stand vor der Einfahrt des Hauses, in dem die Auktion des Nachlasses eines jener reichen Kunstliebhaber stattfand, die, von Zephiren und Amoretten umschwebt, ihr ganzes Leben im s\u00fc\u00dfen Schlummer verbracht und ohne ihr Dazutun den Ruhm von M\u00e4zenen erworben haben, indem sie dazu in einf\u00e4ltigster Weise die Millionen verwandten, die ihre solideren V\u00e4ter und oft sogar sie selbst durch fr\u00fchere Arbeit angesammelt hatten. Solche M\u00e4zene gibt es heute bekanntlich nicht mehr, und unser XIX. Jahrhundert hat schon l\u00e4ngst die langweilige Physiognomie eines Bankiers angenommen, der seine Millionen nur in Gestalt einer auf dem Papiere stehenden Reihe von Ziffern genie\u00dft. Der lange Saal war von einer sehr bunten Menge von Besuchern gef\u00fcllt, die wie die Raubv\u00f6gel zu einem unbeerdigten Leichnam zusammengeflogen waren. Hier sah man eine ganze Flottille russischer H\u00e4ndler aus dem gro\u00dfen Kaufhause und selbst vom Tr\u00f6delmarkte in blauen deutschen R\u00f6cken. Ihr Aussehen und Gesichtsausdruck waren hier viel sicherer und freier und hatte nichts von der s\u00fc\u00dflichen Dienstfertigkeit, die der russische Kaufmann stets in seinem Laden vor dem Kunden zeigt. Hier achteten sie gar nicht auf ihre gesellschaftliche Stellung, obwohl sich im gleichen Saale eine Menge von den Aristokraten befanden, vor denen sie an einem andern Orte bereit w\u00e4ren, mit ihren B\u00fccklingen den Staub abzuwischen, den sie mit ihren eigenen Stiefeln hereingetragen. Hier gaben sie sich ganz ungezwungen, betasteten ohne Umst\u00e4nde die B\u00fccher und Bilder, um sich von der G\u00fcte der Ware zu \u00fcberzeugen, und \u00fcberboten k\u00fchn die Preise, die die gr\u00e4flichen Kenner nannten. Hier waren auch viele von den obligaten Liebhabern, die jeden Morgen statt des Fr\u00fchst\u00fccks eine Auktion genie\u00dfen; aristokratische Kenner, die es f\u00fcr ihre Pflicht halten, keine Gelegenheit Vorbeigehen zu lassen, um ihre Sammlung zu vergr\u00f6\u00dfern und die in der Zeit zwischen zw\u00f6lf und eins nichts anderes zu tun haben; schlie\u00dflich jene adligen Herren, deren Kleider und Geldmittel gleich gering sind und die t\u00e4glich ohne jede eigenn\u00fctzige Absicht herkommen, einzig um zu sehen, wie die Sache endet, wer mehr und wer weniger bietet, wer wen \u00fcberbietet und wem was zuf\u00e4llt. Eine Menge von Bildern stand ohne jede Ordnung umher; dazwischen gab es auch M\u00f6bel und B\u00fccher mit dem Monogramm ihres einstigen Besitzers, der vielleicht gar nicht das lobenswerte Interesse gehabt hatte, in sie hineinzublicken. Chinesische Vasen, marmorne Tischplatten, neue und alte M\u00f6bel mit geschwungenen Linien, mit Greifen, Sphinxen und L\u00f6wentatzen, vergoldete und nicht vergoldete L\u00fcster und Lampen, \u2013 alles war hier durcheinandergeworfen ohne die Ordnung, in der man diese Sachen in Kaufl\u00e4den stehen sieht. Alles bildete ein Chaos der K\u00fcnste. Das Gef\u00fchl, das wir beim Anblick einer Auktion empfinden, ist \u00fcberhaupt beklemmend: sie gemahnt uns irgendwie an eine Beerdigung. Der Saal, in dem die Auktion stattfindet, ist immer d\u00fcster; die von M\u00f6beln und Bildern verstellten Fenster lassen nur sp\u00e4rliches Licht eindringen; das Schweigen, in dem alle Gesichter erstarrt sind, die Grabesstimme des Auktionators, der mit seinem Hammer klopft und eine Totenmesse f\u00fcr die hier auf eine so sonderbare Weise zusammengeratenen K\u00fcnste zelebriert, \u2013 dies alles scheint den unangenehmen Eindruck noch zu verst\u00e4rken.\n\nDie Auktion schien im vollen Gange. Eine ganze Menge anst\u00e4ndiger Menschen dr\u00e4ngte sich dicht zusammen und tat sehr gesch\u00e4ftig. Die Rufe: \u00bbNoch ein Rubel! Noch ein Rubel! Noch ein Rubel!\u00ab die von allen Seiten t\u00f6nten, lie\u00dfen dem Auktionator keine Zeit, die schon vervierfachten Preise auszurufen. Die Menge ereiferte sich wegen eines Portr\u00e4ts, das die Aufmerksamkeit aller, die nur etwas Verst\u00e4ndnis f\u00fcr die Malerei hatten, fesseln mu\u00dfte. Die hohe Meisterschaft des Malers kam darin unzweifelhaft zum Ausdruck. Das Portr\u00e4t war offenbar schon einigemal restauriert worden und stellte die dunklen Z\u00fcge eines Asiaten im weiten Gewande, mit einem ungew\u00f6hnlichen, sonderbaren Gesichtsausdruck dar; am meisten staunten aber alle, die sich um das Portr\u00e4t dr\u00e4ngten, \u00fcber die ungew\u00f6hnliche Lebendigkeit der Augen. Je l\u00e4nger man sie ansah, um so tiefer schienen sie einem ins Innere zu blicken. Diese Eigent\u00fcmlichkeit, dieser ungew\u00f6hnliche Kunstgriff des Malers fesselte die Aufmerksamkeit fast aller. Viele von den Bewerbern waren schon zur\u00fcckgetreten, weil der Preis ganz ungeheuerlich hinaufgetrieben worden war. Zuletzt blieben nur zwei Aristokraten, bekannte Kunstliebhaber \u00fcbrig, von denen keiner auf eine solche Erwerbung verzichten wollte. Sie ereiferten sich und h\u00e4tten den Preis wohl wahnwitzig hinaufgetrieben, wenn nicht pl\u00f6tzlich einer von den Betrachtern die Worte gesprochen hatte: \u00bbGestatten Sie mir, da\u00df ich Ihren Streit f\u00fcr eine Weile unterbreche: vielleicht habe ich mehr als irgend jemand Anrecht auf die Erwerbung dieses Portr\u00e4ts.\u00ab\n\nDiese Worte lenkten sofort die Aufmerksamkeit aller auf den Sprechenden. Es war ein schlanker junger Mann von etwa f\u00fcnfunddrei\u00dfig Jahren, mit langen schwarzen Locken. Sein angenehmes, von einer heiteren Sorglosigkeit erf\u00fclltes Gesicht spiegelte eine Seele wider, der alle Aufregungen der gro\u00dfen Welt fern waren; seine Kleidung erhob keinerlei Anspruch auf Mode: alles zeugte von einem K\u00fcnstler. Es war in der Tat der Maler B., den viele von den Anwesenden pers\u00f6nlich kannten.\n\n\u00bbWie seltsam Ihnen meine Worte auch erscheinen m\u00f6gen,\u00ab fuhr er fort, als er die auf ihn gerichtete allgemeine Aufmerksamkeit sah, \u2013 \u00bbwerden Sie, wenn Sie sich entschlie\u00dfen, meine kurze Geschichte anzuh\u00f6ren, vielleicht doch einsehen, da\u00df ich wohl das Recht hatte, sie zu sprechen. Alles best\u00e4rkt mich in der Gewi\u00dfheit, da\u00df dieses Portr\u00e4t dasselbe ist, das ich suche.\u00ab\n\nEine durchaus nat\u00fcrliche Neugierde leuchtete in fast allen Augen auf, und der Auktionator selbst hielt mit dem Hammer in der erhobenen Hand inne und schickte sich an, zuzuh\u00f6ren. Zu Beginn der Erz\u00e4hlung wandten viele ihre Blicke unwillk\u00fcrlich dem Portr\u00e4t zu, hefteten sie aber dann auf den Erz\u00e4hler allein, in dem Ma\u00dfe, als seine Erz\u00e4hlung immer fesselnder wurde.\n\n\u00bbSie kennen den Stadtteil, den man Kolomna nennt,\u00ab so begann er die Erz\u00e4hlung. \u00bbHier ist alles ganz anders als in den anderen Teilen Petersburgs: hier ist weder Hauptstadt noch Provinz. Wenn man in die Stra\u00dfen von Kolomna kommt, glaubt man zu f\u00fchlen, wie man von allen jugendlichen W\u00fcnschen und Bestrebungen verlassen wird. Die Zukunft blickt hier nicht herein, hier ist alles still und au\u00dfer Dienst, \u2013 hier sammelt sich der Niederschlag der Brandung der Hauptstadt. Hierher ziehen verabschiedete Beamte, Witwen, unbemittelte Menschen, die angenehme Beziehungen zum Senat unterhalten und sich daher selbst zum st\u00e4ndigen Aufenthalt in Kolomna verurteilt haben; K\u00f6chinnen au\u00dfer Dienst, die sich den ganzen Tag auf den M\u00e4rkten dr\u00e4ngen, allerlei Unsinn mit dem Kr\u00e4mer im kleinen Laden zusammenschwatzen und jeden Tag f\u00fcr f\u00fcnf Kopeken Kaffee und f\u00fcr vier Kopeken Zucker einkaufen; schlie\u00dflich die ganze Kategorie von Menschen, die man mit dem Worte \u203aaschgrau\u2039 bezeichnen kann; Menschen, deren Kleidung, Gesichter, Haare und Augen eine tr\u00fcbe aschgraue F\u00e4rbung haben, wie ein Tag, der weder st\u00fcrmisch, noch heiter, sondern weder das eine noch das andere ist: ein Nebel senkt sich herab und nimmt allen Gegenst\u00e4nden die Konturen. Hierher sind auch verabschiedete Theaterdiener, verabschiedete Titularr\u00e4te, verabschiedete Marss\u00f6hne mit einem ausgestochenen Auge und geschwollenen Lippen zu z\u00e4hlen. Diese Menschen sind absolut leidenschaftslos: sie gehen einher, ohne etwas anzuschauen, und schweigen ohne an etwas zu denken. Sie haben in ihren Behausungen nicht viele Sachen stehen; ihre ganze Habe besteht oft aus einer Flasche reinen russischen Schnapses, den sie den ganzen Tag ununterbrochen saufen, ohne da\u00df er ihnen in den Kopf steigt, welches Vergn\u00fcgen sich an Sonntagen die jungen deutschen Handwerker leisten, diese Studenten der Mjeschtschanskaja-Stra\u00dfe, die allein \u00fcber das ganze Trottoir herrschen, wenn Mitternacht vor\u00fcber ist.\n\n\u00bbDas Leben in Kolomna ist furchtbar still; nur selten sieht man hier eine Equipage fahren, h\u00f6chstens eine mit Schauspielern, die allein durch ihr Gepolter und Gerassel die allgemeine Stille st\u00f6rt. Hier gehen alle zu Fu\u00df; die Droschkenkutscher fahren oft ohne Fahrg\u00e4ste mit einer Ladung Heu f\u00fcr ihre zottigen M\u00e4hren. Eine Wohnung kann man hier schon f\u00fcr f\u00fcnf Rubel im Monat finden, sogar mit Morgenkaffee. Die Witwen, die von der Pension leben, bilden die hiesige Aristokratie; sie f\u00fchren sich anst\u00e4ndig auf, kehren ihre Stuben oft und unterhalten sich mit ihren Freundinnen \u00fcber die hohen Fleisch- und Kohlpreise; sie haben oft eine junge Tochter bei sich, ein schweigsames, stilles, manchmal anmutiges Gesch\u00f6pf, ein ekelhaftes H\u00fcndchen und eine Wanduhr mit einem traurig tickenden Pendel. Dann kommen die Schauspieler, denen ihr Gehalt nicht erlaubt, in einen anderen Stadtteil zu ziehen, ein freies Volk, das wie alle K\u00fcnstler, nur dem Genu\u00df lebt. So ein Schauspieler sitzt im Schlafrock da, repariert eine Pistole, klebt aus Pappe allerlei im Haushalt n\u00fctzliche S\u00e4chelchen, spielt mit einem Freunde, der ihn besucht, Dame oder Karten und verbringt damit den ganzen Vormittag; ebenso verbringt er auch den Abend, nur da\u00df er sich am Abend manchmal auch noch einen Punsch leistet. Nach diesen Aristokraten und gro\u00dfen Tieren von Kolomna folgt ein ungew\u00f6hnlich, niedriges Gesindel. Es ist ebenso schwer alle diese Leute zu nennen, wie die Lebewesen aufzuz\u00e4hlen, die in altem Essig keimen. Es gibt hier alte Weiber, welche beten; alte Weiber, welche saufen; alte Weiber, welche zugleich beten und saufen; alte Weiber, die sich auf eine unerkl\u00e4rliche Weise durchschlagen, die wie Ameisen B\u00fcndel alter Lumpen und W\u00e4sche von der Kalinkin-Br\u00fccke zum Tr\u00f6delmarkt schleppen, nur um sie dort f\u00fcr f\u00fcnfzehn Kopeken zu verkaufen; mit einem Worte, die ungl\u00fccklichste Hefe der Menschheit, deren Lage zu verbessern selbst der wohlt\u00e4tigste Volkswirtschaftler keine Mittel w\u00fc\u00dfte.\n\nIch habe alle diese Leute aufgez\u00e4hlt, um Ihnen zu zeigen, wie oft diese Leute in die Lage kommen, rasche, zeitweilige Hilfe zu suchen und Anleihen machen zu m\u00fcssen; darum lassen sich unter ihnen Wucherer eigener Art nieder, die ihnen kleine Darlehen gegen Pfand und hohe Zinsen geben. Diese kleinen Wucherer sind oft unvergleichlich gef\u00fchlloser als die gro\u00dfen, weil sie ihre T\u00e4tigkeit unter lauter Bettlern, die ihre Lumpen offen zur Schau tragen, aus\u00fcben, welche ein reicher Wucherer, der nur mit Leuten, die ihn in Equipagen besuchen, zu tun hat, nie zu Gesicht bekommt. Darum erstarb in ihren Herzen allzufr\u00fch jedes menschliche Gef\u00fchl. Unter diesen Wucherern gab es einen... aber ich mu\u00df vorausschicken, da\u00df die Geschichte, die ich Ihnen erz\u00e4hle, ins vergangene Jahrhundert, und zwar in die Regierungszeit der verstorbenen Kaiserin Katharina II. geh\u00f6rt. Sie k\u00f6nnen sich selbst denken, da\u00df das Aussehen und das innere Leben von Kolomna sich inzwischen erheblich ver\u00e4ndert haben m\u00fcssen. Unter den Wucherern gab es also einen, ein in allen Beziehungen ungew\u00f6hnliches Gesch\u00f6pf, das sich in diesem Stadtteile schon seit langer Zeit niedergelassen hatte. Er kleidete sich in weite asiatische Gew\u00e4nder; seine dunkle Gesichtsfarbe zeugte von seiner s\u00fcdlichen Herkunft; welcher Nation er aber angeh\u00f6rte, ob er ein Inder, Grieche oder Perser war, das wu\u00dfte niemand sicher. Der fast ungew\u00f6hnlich hohe Wuchs, das dunkle, hagere, sonnenverbrannte Gesicht von einer unergr\u00fcndlich unheimlichen Farbe, die gro\u00dfen, ungew\u00f6hnlich brennenden Augen, die \u00fcberh\u00e4ngenden dichten Brauen unterschieden ihn scharf und kra\u00df von allen aschgrauen Bewohnern der Hauptstadt. Selbst seine Behausung glich gar nicht den kleinen h\u00f6lzernen H\u00e4usern. Es war ein steinerner Bau von der Art, wie sie einst die genuesischen Kaufleute in gro\u00dfer Menge errichteten, mit unregelm\u00e4\u00dfigen Fenstern verschiedener Gr\u00f6\u00dfe und eisernen L\u00e4den und Riegeln. Dieser Wucherer unterschied sich von allen anderen schon dadurch, da\u00df er imstande war, einem jeden, vom \u00e4rmsten alten Weibe bis zum verschwenderischen H\u00f6fling, jede beliebige Summe zu verschaffen. Vor seinem Hause erschienen oft die gl\u00e4nzendsten Equipagen, aus denen manchmal der Kopf einer eleganten Weltdame herausblickte. Das Ger\u00fccht behauptete nat\u00fcrlich, da\u00df seine eisernen Truhen ungez\u00e4hlte Haufen von Geld, Wertsachen, Brillanten und allerlei Pf\u00e4nder enthielten, da\u00df ihm aber die Habgier, die die anderen Wucherer auszeichne, fremd sei. Er gab das Geld gern her, teilte die Zahlungstermine scheinbar g\u00fcnstig ein, lie\u00df aber die Zinsen mittels sonderbarer arithmetischer Operationen in eine schwindelhafte H\u00f6he steigen. Das behauptete wenigstens das Ger\u00fccht. Was aber am seltsamsten war und viele in Erstaunen setzen mu\u00dfte, war das sonderbare Schicksal aller, die von ihm Geld erhielten; sie beschlossen alle ihr Leben auf eine elende Weise. Ob es blo\u00df die allgemeine Meinung der Menschen war, ein dummes abergl\u00e4ubisches Geschw\u00e4tz, oder ein mit Absicht verbreitetes Ger\u00fccht, \u2013 das blieb unbekannt. Aber einige F\u00e4lle, die sich in kurzer Zeit vor den Augen aller abspielten, waren allen gegenw\u00e4rtig und verbl\u00fcffend.\n\nUnter den damaligen Aristokraten fiel besonders ein J\u00fcngling aus bester Familie auf, der sich schon in jungen Jahren im Staatsdienste ausgezeichnet hatte, ein leidenschaftlicher Verehrer alles Wahren und Erhabenen, ein Eiferer f\u00fcr alles, was die Kunst und der Geist des Menschen gezeugt haben, ein k\u00fcnftiger M\u00e4zen. Er wurde bald auch von der Kaiserin nach Verdienst ausgezeichnet, die ihn mit einem wichtigen Posten betraute, der durchaus seinen eigenen Anforderungen entsprach, \u2013 einem Posten, in dem er f\u00fcr die Wissenschaften und f\u00fcr alles Gute viel tun konnte. Der junge W\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger umgab sich mit K\u00fcnstlern, Dichtern und Gelehrten. Er wollte allen Arbeit geben, alle f\u00f6rdern. Er unternahm auf eigene Kosten eine Menge n\u00fctzlicher Ver\u00f6ffentlichungen, vergab eine Menge von Auftr\u00e4gen, schrieb verschiedene Preise aus, verausgabte f\u00fcr diese Zwecke einen Haufen von Geld und geriet schlie\u00dflich in Schwierigkeiten. Von gro\u00dfm\u00fctigem Streben erf\u00fcllt, wollte er sein Werk jedoch nicht aufgeben und suchte \u00fcberall nach Darlehen; schlie\u00dflich wandte er sich an den uns bekannten Wucherer. Nachdem er von ihm ein bedeutendes Darlehen erhalten, ver\u00e4nderte sich dieser junge Mensch in k\u00fcrzester Zeit; er wurde zum Unterdr\u00fccker und Verfolger aller aufstrebenden Geister und Talente. In allen Werken sah er nur die Schattenseiten und mi\u00dfdeutete jedes Wort. Ungl\u00fccklicherweise brach gerade die franz\u00f6sische Revolution aus. Das diente ihm als Vorwand zu allerlei Gemeinheiten. Er fing an, in allen Dingen eine revolution\u00e4re Gesinnung zu sehen und \u00fcberall Anspielungen zu wittern. Er wurde so argw\u00f6hnisch, da\u00df er zuletzt sich selbst verd\u00e4chtigte; er schenkte jeder schrecklichen, ungerechten Denunziation Geh\u00f6r und machte eine Menge von Menschen ungl\u00fccklich. Selbstverst\u00e4ndlich mu\u00dften solche Handlungen schlie\u00dflich auch dem Throne bekannt werden. Die gro\u00dfm\u00fctige Kaiserin entsetzte sich und sprach, vom Edelmut, der die Tr\u00e4ger der Krone ziert, beseelt, Worte, die uns zwar nicht genau \u00fcberliefert werden konnten, deren tiefster Sinn sich aber den Herzen vieler eingepr\u00e4gt hatte. Die Kaiserin bemerkte, da\u00df es nicht die monarchische Regierung sei, die die hohen und edlen Seelenregungen und die Sch\u00f6pfungen des Geistes, der Dichtung und der K\u00fcnste unterdr\u00fccke und verfolge; da\u00df vielmehr die Monarchen allein ihre Besch\u00fctzer gewesen seien; da\u00df die Shakespeares und Moli\u00e8res sich ihres hochherzigen Schutzes erfreut h\u00e4tten, w\u00e4hrend Dante in seiner republikanischen Heimat kein Obdach h\u00e4tte finden k\u00f6nnen; da\u00df die wahren Genies stets in den Perioden des Glanzes und der Macht der Staaten und der Herrscher aufgekommen seien, nicht aber in den Zeiten h\u00e4\u00dflicher politischer Erscheinungen und republikanischer Schreckensherrschaft, die der Welt noch keinen einzigen wahren Dichter geschenkt habe; da\u00df man die Dichter und K\u00fcnstler auszeichnen m\u00fcsse, weil sie doch nur Ruhe und den sch\u00f6nsten Frieden den Seelen einfl\u00f6\u00dften, nicht aber Aufruhr und Murren; da\u00df die Gelehrten, Dichter und alle schaffenden K\u00fcnstler Perlen und Diamanten in der kaiserlichen Krone seien: sie schm\u00fccken und erleuchten das Zeitalter des gro\u00dfen F\u00fcrsten. Mit einem Worte, die Kaiserin, die diese Worte sprach, war in jenem Augenblick von einer g\u00f6ttlichen Sch\u00f6nheit. Ich erinnere mich, da\u00df die alten Leute davon nicht ohne Tr\u00e4nen sprechen konnten. Alle zeigten gro\u00dfe Teilnahme f\u00fcr den ungew\u00f6hnlichen Fall. Zur Ehre unseres Volkes mu\u00df bemerkt werden, da\u00df dem russischen Herzen stets die Neigung innewohnt, die Partei des Unterdr\u00fcckten zu ergreifen. Der W\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger, der das ihm geschenkte Vertrauen mi\u00dfbraucht hatte, wurde exemplarisch bestraft und seines Postens enthoben. Aber eine weit strengere Strafe las er in den Mienen seiner Mitb\u00fcrger: es war eine entschiedene und allgemeine Verachtung. Es l\u00e4\u00dft sich gar nicht sagen, wie schwer seine ehrgeizige Seele darunter litt: Stolz, gekr\u00e4nkte Eigenliebe, zusammengest\u00fcrzte Hoffnungen, \u2013 alles hatte sich verewigt, und sein Lebensfaden ri\u00df unter Anf\u00e4llen eines schrecklichen Wahnsinns.\n\nEin anderer erstaunlicher Fall spielte sich auch vor aller Augen ab: unter den Sch\u00f6nen, an denen unsere nordische Hauptstadt damals gar nicht arm war, \u00fcbertraf eine alle die anderen. Es war eine eigenartig herrliche Verbindung unserer nordischen Sch\u00f6nheit mit der Sch\u00f6nheit des S\u00fcdens, \u2013 ein Diamant, wie man ihn nur selten findet. Mein Vater pflegte zu sagen, er h\u00e4tte in seinem Leben niemals etwas \u00c4hnliches gesehen. Alles schien sich in ihr vereinigt zu haben: Reichtum, Geist und seelische Sch\u00f6nheit. Eine Menge von Bewerbern umschw\u00e4rmte sie, und unter diesen fiel besonders der F\u00fcrst R. auf, der edelste und beste von allen jungen Leuten, der sch\u00f6nste von Angesicht wie auch von ritterlicher Gesinnung, das hohe Ideal der Romane und der Frauen. Ein Grandison in jeder Beziehung. F\u00fcrst R. war leidenschaftlich, wahnsinnig verliebt; eine gleiche Liebe wurde ihm auch von ihr entgegengebracht. Aber ihren Verwandten kam die Partie unpassend vor. Die Erbg\u00fcter des F\u00fcrsten geh\u00f6rten ihm schon l\u00e4ngst nicht mehr, die Familie war in Ungnade, und die schlechte Verm\u00f6genslage war allen bekannt. Pl\u00f6tzlich verl\u00e4\u00dft der F\u00fcrst die Hauptstadt, um seine Verh\u00e4ltnisse in Ordnung zu bringen, und kehrt nach kurzer Zeit von einem unerh\u00f6rten Reichtum und Glanz umgeben zur\u00fcck. Die gl\u00e4nzenden B\u00e4lle und Feste, die er gibt, erregen selbst bei Hofe Aufsehen. Der Vater der Sch\u00f6nen schenkt ihm seine Huld, und die Stadt erlebt die interessanteste Hochzeit. Woher diese Wandlung und der unerh\u00f6rte Reichtum des Br\u00e4utigams kamen, vermochte niemand zu erkl\u00e4ren; aber man erz\u00e4hlte sich, da\u00df er irgendein Abkommen mit dem r\u00e4tselhaften Wucherer getroffen und von ihm ein gr\u00f6\u00dferes Darlehen bekommen habe. Wie dem auch war, die ganze Stadt interessierte sich f\u00fcr diese Hochzeit, und Braut und Br\u00e4utigam wurden zum Gegenstand des allgemeinen Neides. Allen war ihre gl\u00fchende, treue Liebe bekannt, die langen Qualen, die sie zu erdulden gehabt hatten, und die hohen Vorz\u00fcge der beiden. Hei\u00dfbl\u00fctige Frauen malten sich im voraus die paradiesischen Wonnen aus, die die jungen Gatten genie\u00dfen sollten. Es kam aber alles anders. In einem Jahre geschah im Gatten eine schreckliche Wandlung. Sein bis dahin so edler und sch\u00f6ner Charakter wurde auf einmal von argw\u00f6hnischer Eifersucht, von Unduldsamkeit und ewigen Launen vergiftet. Er wurde zum Tyrannen und Peiniger seiner Frau und lie\u00df sich sogar, was niemand vorausgesehen h\u00e4tte, zu den unmenschlichsten Handlungen und selbst Schl\u00e4gen herbei. Nach einem Jahre schon h\u00e4tte niemand die Frau wiedererkennen k\u00f6nnen, die noch vor kurzem so gegl\u00e4nzt und ganze Scharen ergebener Verehrer angezogen hatte. Endlich hatte sie nicht mehr die Kraft, das schwere Los l\u00e4nger zu tragen, und brachte selbst die Rede auf Scheidung. Der Mann geriet schon beim blo\u00dfen Gedanken daran in Raserei. Im ersten Wutausbruch st\u00fcrzte er mit einem Messer in der Hand in ihr Zimmer und h\u00e4tte sie zweifellos erstochen, wenn man ihn nicht rechtzeitig ergriffen und daran verhindert h\u00e4tte. Im Anfalle von Wut und Verzweiflung wandte er nun das Messer gegen sich selbst und beschlo\u00df sein Leben in den schrecklichsten Qualen.\n\nAu\u00dfer diesen beiden F\u00e4llen, die sich vor den Augen der ganzen Gesellschaft zugetragen hatten, berichtete man noch von einer ganzen Reihe anderer, die sich in den niederen Gesellschaftsschichten abgespielt und die fast alle ebenso entsetzlich geendet hatten. In einem Falle war ein ehrlicher n\u00fcchterner Mensch zu einem Trunkenbold geworden; in einem anderen begann ein Kaufmannsgehilfe seinen Herrn zu bestehlen; in einem dritten erstach ein Fuhrmann, der diesen Beruf einige Jahre ehrlich ausge\u00fcbt hatte, wegen eines Groschens seinen Fahrgast. Selbstverst\u00e4ndlich hatten alle solche Erz\u00e4hlungen, die oft nicht ohne \u00dcbertreibungen wiedergegeben wurden, den bescheidenen Bewohnern von Kolomna eine unwillk\u00fcrliche Angst eingejagt. Niemand zweifelte, da\u00df in diesem Menschen ein unsauberer Geist wohnte. Man erz\u00e4hlte sich, da\u00df er solche Bedingungen stellte, vor denen einem die Haare zu Berge stiegen und die keiner der Ungl\u00fccklichen einem andern mitzuteilen wagte; da\u00df sein Geld die Hand verbrenne, von selbst gl\u00fchend werde und mit irgendwelchen seltsamen Zeichen versehen sei... mit einem Worte, es gab \u00fcber ihn eine Menge unsinniger Ger\u00fcchte. Es ist bemerkenswert, da\u00df die ganze Bev\u00f6lkerung von Kolomna, diese ganze Welt der armen alten Frauen, kleinen Beamten, kleinen Schauspieler und der \u00fcbrigen kleinen Leute, die wir eben aufgez\u00e4hlt haben, es vorzog, die bitterste Not zu leiden, als sich an den schrecklichen Wucherer zu wenden; man fand sogar verhungerte alte Frauen auf, die es vorgezogen hatten, ihr Fleisch zu t\u00f6ten, als ihre Seelen zu verderben. Wenn man ihm auf der Stra\u00dfe begegnete, empfand man ein unwillk\u00fcrliches Grauen. Die Fu\u00dfg\u00e4nger wichen vorsichtig zur\u00fcck und sahen sich dann noch mehrmals nach ihm um, seine in der Ferne verschwindende unglaublich hohe Gestalt mit den Augen verfolgend. Schon in seinem \u00c4u\u00dferen lag so viel Ungew\u00f6hnliches, da\u00df ihm ein jeder unwillk\u00fcrlich eine \u00fcbernat\u00fcrliche Existenz zuschrieb. Diese starken Z\u00fcge, so tief wie bei keinem anderen Menschen eingemei\u00dfelt; diese gl\u00fchende, bronzene Gesichtsfarbe; diese ungew\u00f6hnlich buschigen Augenbrauen, die unertr\u00e4glichen schrecklichen Augen, selbst die weiten Falten seines asiatischen Gewandes, \u2013 alles schien zu sagen, da\u00df vor den Leidenschaften, die diesen K\u00f6rper bewegten, alle Leidenschaften der anderen Menschen verbla\u00dften. Mein Vater blieb regungslos stehen, so oft er ihm begegnete, und konnte sich niemals der Worte enthalten: \u203aDer Teufel, der leibhaftige Teufel!\u2039 Aber ich mu\u00df Sie jetzt schnell mit meinem Vater bekannt machen, der nebenbei bemerkt die Hauptperson in meiner Geschichte ist.\n\nMein Vater war ein in vielen Beziehungen merkw\u00fcrdiger Mensch. Er war ein Maler, wie es ihrer wenige gibt, \u2013 eines der Wunder, wie sie nur dem jungfr\u00e4ulichen Scho\u00dfe Ru\u00dflands entstammen, ein Autodidakt, der ganz von selbst, ohne Schule und Lehrer, in seiner Seele alle Gesetze und Regeln gefunden hatte, nur vom Drange nach Vervollkommnung beseelt, ein Mensch, der aus Gr\u00fcnden, die ihm selbst vielleicht unbekannt waren, nur den einen, ihm von seiner Seele gewiesenen Weg ging; eines jener urspr\u00fcnglichen Wunder, die die Zeitgenossen oft mit dem verletzenden Wort \u203aIgnorant\u2039 titulieren und die, ohne sich durch die Beschimpfungen und die eigenen Mi\u00dferfolge abk\u00fchlen zu lassen, immer neuen Eifer und neue Kr\u00e4fte finden und sich in ihrer Seele weit von den Werken entfernen, die ihnen den Titel \u203aIgnorant\u2039 einbrachten. Durch einen hochentwickelten inneren Instinkt f\u00fchlte er in jedem Gegenstand den ihm innewohnenden Gedanken \u2013 er erfa\u00dfte ganz von selbst den wahren Sinn des Wortes \u203aHistorienmalerei\u2039; er begriff, warum ein einfacher Kopf, ein einfaches Portr\u00e4t Raffaels, Lionardos, Tizians oder Correggios als Historienmalerei gelten d\u00fcrfe und warum manches Riesengem\u00e4lde mit historischem Inhalt ein blo\u00dfes _\u203atableau de genre\u2039_ sei, trotz aller Anspr\u00fcche des Malers auf Historie. Sein inneres Gef\u00fchl wie auch seine eigene \u00dcberzeugung lie\u00dfen seinen Pinsel sich christlichen Sujets zuwenden, der h\u00f6chsten und letzten Stufe des Erhabenen. Er kannte weder Ehrgeiz noch Reizbarkeit, die den Charakter so vieler Maler auszeichnen. Er war ein fester Charakter, ein ehrlicher, offener Mensch, \u00e4u\u00dferlich etwas grob, auch nicht ohne Stolz, und urteilte \u00fcber alle Menschen zugleich milde und streng. \u203aWas soll ich mich um sie k\u00fcmmern?\u2039 pflegte er zu sagen: \u203aIch arbeite ja nicht f\u00fcr sie. Ich werde meine Werke nicht in den Salon tragen. Wer mich versteht, der wird mir danken, und wer mich nicht versteht, der wird vor dem Bilde auch so zu Gott beten. Man darf einem Menschen aus der vornehmen Gesellschaft nicht vorwerfen, da\u00df er nichts von Malerei versteht: daf\u00fcr versteht er sich auf Karten, auf guten Wein und auf Pferde; was braucht so ein vornehmer Herr noch mehr zu verstehen? Wenn er von solchen Dingen kostet und dann zu kl\u00fcgeln anf\u00e4ngt, so wird er erst recht unangenehm werden! Jedem das Seine, m\u00f6ge sich jeder mit seinen Sachen besch\u00e4ftigen. Was mich betrifft, so ist mir ein Mensch, der offen erkl\u00e4rt, da\u00df er gar nichts versteht, lieber als einer, der heuchelt und behauptet, Dinge zu verstehen, die er nicht versteht, und nur alles verdirbt und verunreinigt.\u2039 Er arbeitete gegen eine bescheidene Bezahlung, d.h. gegen eine, die ihm gerade noch ausreichte, um seine Familie zu ern\u00e4hren und seine eigene Arbeitskraft zu erhalten. Au\u00dferdem verweigerte er niemals einem anderen K\u00fcnstler die Hilfe; er hatte noch den einfachen, frommen Glauben seiner Vorfahren, und vielleicht darum erschien in den von ihm gemalten Antlitzen von Heiligen ganz von selbst jener erhabene Ausdruck, den selbst manche gl\u00e4nzende Talente nicht zu erreichen verm\u00f6gen. Schlie\u00dflich errang er durch seine beharrliche Arbeit und das Festhalten am Wege, den er sich selbst vorgezeichnet, auch die Achtung derjenigen, die ihn einen Ignoranten und einen hausbackenen Autodidakten nannten. Er bekam fortw\u00e4hrend Auftr\u00e4ge, Kirchenbilder zu malen, und die Arbeit ri\u00df bei ihm niemals ab. Eine dieser Arbeiten fesselte ihn ganz besonders. Ich kann mich an das Sujet nicht mehr genau erinnern, ich wei\u00df nur, da\u00df auf dem Bilde der Geist der Finsternis dargestellt werden sollte. Lange \u00fcberlegte er sich, welche Gestalt ihm zu geben: er wollte in seinem Gesicht alles Schwere und den Menschen Bedr\u00fcckende verk\u00f6rpern. W\u00e4hrend solcher \u00dcberlegungen ging ihm zuweilen die Gestalt des geheimnisvollen Wucherers durch den Sinn, und er dachte sich unwillk\u00fcrlich: \u203aDer w\u00e4re doch das beste Modell f\u00fcr den Teufel!\u2039 Stellen Sie sich nun sein Erstaunen vor, als eines Tages, wie er in seinem Atelier arbeitete, an die T\u00fcr geklopft wurde und der schreckliche Wucherer bei ihm eintrat. Er f\u00fchlte, wie ein Zittern durch seinen ganzen K\u00f6rper lief.\n\n\u203aBist du Maler?\u2039 fragte jener ganz ohne Umst\u00e4nde.\n\n\u203aJa, ich bin Maler,\u2039 antwortete mein Vater verdutzt und wartete, was nun kommen w\u00fcrde.\n\n\u203aGut. Male mein Portr\u00e4t. Vielleicht werde ich bald sterben, und Kinder habe ich nicht; aber ich will nicht ganz sterben, ich will leben. Kannst du mein Portr\u00e4t so malen, da\u00df es wie lebendig w\u00e4re?\u2039\n\n\u00bbMein Vater dachte sich: \u203aWas kann ich mir Besseres w\u00fcnschen? Er will mir selbst f\u00fcr den Teufel auf meinem Bilde sitzen.\u2039 Er versprach es ihm. Sie einigten sich \u00fcber die Zeit und den Preis, und schon am n\u00e4chsten Tage nahm mein Vater Palette und Pinsel und begab sich zu ihm. Der von hohen Mauern eingefa\u00dfte Hof, Hunde, eiserne T\u00fcren und Riegel, bogenf\u00f6rmige Fenster, mit merkw\u00fcrdigen Teppichen bedeckte Truhen und schlie\u00dflich auch der sonderbare Hausherr selbst, der sich vor ihm unbeweglich hinsetzte, \u2013 das alles machte auf meinen Vater einen seltsamen Eindruck. Die Fenster waren wie absichtlich unten so verstellt und verbarrikadiert, da\u00df das Licht nur von oben hereindrang. \u203aHol's der Teufel, wie gut ist jetzt sein Gesicht beleuchtet!\u2039 sagte sich mein Vater und begann mit Gier zu malen, als f\u00fcrchtete er, da\u00df die g\u00fcnstige Beleuchtung verschwinden k\u00f6nnte. \u203aDiese Kraft!\u2039 sagte er vor sich hin: \u203aWenn ich ihn auch nur halb so \u00e4hnlich darstelle, wie ich ihn jetzt sehe, so erschl\u00e4gt er alle meine Heiligen und Engel: sie werden vor ihm erblassen. Diese teuflische Kraft! Er wird mir einfach aus der Leinwand springen, wenn ich der Natur auch nur ein wenig treu bleibe. \u2013 Was f\u00fcr ungew\u00f6hnliche Z\u00fcge!\u2039 wiederholte er fortw\u00e4hrend vor sich hin, seinen Eifer verdoppelnd, und schon sah er einige der Z\u00fcge auf der Leinwand erstehen. Je mehr er sich ihnen aber n\u00e4herte, ein um so schwereres, bangeres Gef\u00fchl, das ihm selbst unverst\u00e4ndlich war, bem\u00e4chtigte sich seiner. Aber er nahm sich doch vor, jeden noch so unmerklichen Zug und Ausdruck zu verfolgen. Vor allem machte er sich an die Ausarbeitung der Augen. In diesen Augen lag so viel Kraft, da\u00df es zun\u00e4chst undenkbar schien, sie so wiederzugeben, wie sie in der Natur waren. Aber er entschlo\u00df sich, koste es, was es wolle, in ihnen jeden feinsten Strich und Ton aufzusp\u00fcren, ihr Geheimnis zu ergr\u00fcnden... Kaum hatte er aber angefangen, sich in sie mit seinem Pinsel zu vertiefen, als in seiner Seele eine so seltsame Abscheu, ein so unerkl\u00e4rliches dr\u00fcckendes Gef\u00fchl erwachte, da\u00df er den Pinsel f\u00fcr eine Weile weglegen mu\u00dfte, ehe er weitermalen konnte. Schlie\u00dflich konnte er es nicht mehr ertragen: er f\u00fchlte, wie sich diese Augen in seine Seele bohrten und in ihr eine unfa\u00dfbare Unruhe weckten. Am zweiten und am dritten Tage war dieses Gef\u00fchl noch schrecklicher. Es wurde ihm unheimlich zumute. Er warf den Pinsel weg und sagte sehr entschieden, da\u00df er nicht weitermalen k\u00f6nne. Man mu\u00df gesehen haben, wie sich der schreckliche Wucherer bei diesen Worten ver\u00e4nderte. Er fiel meinem Vater zu F\u00fc\u00dfen und flehte ihn an, das Portr\u00e4t zu vollenden, indem er sagte, da\u00df davon sein Schicksal und sein Dasein in der Welt abh\u00e4nge; da\u00df mein Vater mit seinem Pinsel schon seine lebendigen Z\u00fcge erfa\u00dft habe; da\u00df, wenn er sie treu wiedergeben w\u00fcrde, sein Leben durch eine \u00fcbernat\u00fcrliche Kraft im Bilde festgehalten sein werde; da\u00df er dann nicht ganz sterben werde; da\u00df er noch l\u00e4nger in der Welt bleiben m\u00fcsse. Mein Vater f\u00fchlte Grauen: diese Worte erschienen ihm so seltsam und schrecklich, da\u00df er Pinsel und Palette wegwarf und Hals \u00fcber Kopf aus dem Zimmer st\u00fcrzte.\n\n\u00bbDie Erinnerung daran peinigte ihn den ganzen Tag und die ganze Nacht, am Morgen bekam er aber vom Wucherer das Portr\u00e4t zur\u00fcck; eine Frau, das einzige Wesen, das bei ihm diente, brachte es ihm; sie erkl\u00e4rte, da\u00df ihr Herr das Portr\u00e4t weder haben noch bezahlen wolle und es meinem Vater zur\u00fcckschicke. Am Abend des gleichen Tages erfuhr mein Vater, da\u00df der Wucherer gestorben war und da\u00df man Anstalten machte, ihn nach den Gebr\u00e4uchen seiner Religion zu beerdigen. Das alles kam ihm unbegreiflich und seltsam vor. Indessen begann im Charakter meines Vaters von diesem Tage an eine merkliche Ver\u00e4nderung: er f\u00fchlte sich von einer bangen Unruhe ergriffen, deren Ursache er selbst nicht begreifen konnte, und lie\u00df sich bald darauf zu einer Tat herbei, die von ihm kein Mensch erwartet h\u00e4tte. Seit einiger Zeit hatten die Arbeiten einer seiner Sch\u00fcler angefangen, die Aufmerksamkeit eines kleinen Kreises von Kennern und Liebhabern auf sich zu ziehen. Mein Vater hatte sein Talent schon fr\u00fcher erkannt und ihm daher sein besonderes Wohlwollen geschenkt. Pl\u00f6tzlich f\u00fchlte er Neid gegen diesen Sch\u00fcler. Die allgemeine Teilnahme und das Gerede wurden ihm unertr\u00e4glich. Das Ma\u00df seines \u00c4rgers wurde aber voll, als er erfuhr, da\u00df der Sch\u00fcler den Auftrag erhalten hatte, ein Bild f\u00fcr eine neuerbaute reiche Kirche zu malen. Das machte ihn w\u00fctend. \u203aNein, dieser Milchbart darf nicht triumphieren!\u2039 sagte er: \u203aDu bist noch zu jung, Bruder, um einen Alten zu blamieren! Ich habe ja noch, Gott sei Dank, Kraft genug. Wir wollen sehen, wer wen blamieren wird.\u2039 Und der aufrechte, herzensreine Mann wandte allerlei Intrigen und R\u00e4nke an, die er bisher verabscheut hatte; schlie\u00dflich setzte er es durch, da\u00df f\u00fcr das Bild ein Wettbewerb ausgeschrieben wurde und da\u00df auch andere K\u00fcnstler ihre Arbeiten einliefern durften. Dann schlo\u00df er sich in seinem Zimmer ein und machte sich mit Feuereifer an die Arbeit. Er schien alle seine Kr\u00e4fte und sein ganzes Wesen in das Bild hineinlegen zu wollen. Und es wurde daraus in der Tat eines seiner besten Werke. Niemand zweifelte, da\u00df er der Sieger im Wettstreit sein w\u00fcrde. Alle Bilder waren eingeliefert, und alle unterschieden sich von dem seinen wie die Nacht von dem Tage. Pl\u00f6tzlich aber machte eines der Mitglieder der Kommission, wenn ich nicht irre eine geistliche Amtsperson, eine Bemerkung, die alle verbl\u00fcffte. \u203aDas Bild des K\u00fcnstlers zeugt allerdings von viel Talent,\u2039 sagte er, \u203aaber den Gesichtern fehlt die Heiligkeit; im Gegenteil, in den Augen steckt etwas D\u00e4monisches, als h\u00e4tte ein unsauberes Gef\u00fchl seinen Pinsel geleitet.\u2039 Alle sahen das Bild noch einmal an und mu\u00dften sich von der Richtigkeit dieser Worte \u00fcberzeugen. Mein Vater st\u00fcrzte auf sein Bild zu, als wollte er die Stichhaltigkeit der verletzenden Bemerkung nachpr\u00fcfen, und sah mit Entsetzen, da\u00df er fast allen Gesichtern die Augen des Wucherers verliehen hatte. Sie blickten so d\u00e4monisch und vernichtend, da\u00df er selbst unwillk\u00fcrlich zusammenfuhr. Das Bild wurde zur\u00fcckgewiesen, und mein Vater mu\u00dfte zu seinem unbeschreiblichen Verdru\u00df h\u00f6ren, da\u00df sein Sch\u00fcler den Sieg davongetragen hatte. Die Wut, in der er nach Hause zur\u00fcckkehrte, l\u00e4\u00dft sich gar nicht beschreiben. Beinahe h\u00e4tte er meine Mutter geschlagen; er jagte die Kinder hinaus, zerbrach all seine Pinsel und die Staffelei, ri\u00df von der Wand das Portr\u00e4t des Wucherers und lie\u00df sich ein Messer geben und im Kamin Feuer machen, in der Absicht, das Portr\u00e4t in St\u00fccke zu schneiden und zu verbrennen. Bei diesem Vorhaben traf ihn ein Freund, der zuf\u00e4llig ins Zimmer trat, ein Maler gleich ihm, ein lustiger Patron, der mit sich stets zufrieden war, nach keinen hohen Zielen strebte, vergn\u00fcgt jede Arbeit machte, die sich ihm gerade bot, und mit noch gr\u00f6\u00dferem Vergn\u00fcgen sich an einem Schmause und Zechgelage beteiligte.\n\n\u203aWas machst du da? Was willst du verbrennen?\u2039 fragte er und trat an das Portr\u00e4t heran. \u203aErlaube doch, es ist eines deiner besten Werke. Das ist der vor kurzem gestorbene Wucherer; es ist ein h\u00f6chst vollkommenes Werk. Du hast den Mann nicht blo\u00df getroffen, du bist ihm auch in die Augen eingedrungen. Die Augen haben selbst bei seinen Lebzeiten niemals so geblickt, wie sie bei dir blicken!\u2039\n\n\u203aIch will mal sehen, wie sie im Feuer blicken werden!\u2039 sagte mein Vater und machte eine Bewegung, um das Portr\u00e4t in den Kamin zu werfen.\n\n\u203aHalt ein, um Gottes willen!\u2039 sagte der Freund, indem er ihm in die Hand fiel. \u203aGib es dann lieber mir, wenn es dein Auge so sehr beleidigt.\u2039 Mein Vater weigerte sich anfangs, willigte aber schlie\u00dflich doch ein, und der lustige Patron trug, \u00fcber seine Erwerbung sehr erfreut, das Portr\u00e4t heim.\n\nAls er fort war, f\u00fchlte sich mein Vater pl\u00f6tzlich ruhiger. Es war, als w\u00e4re ihm zugleich mit dem Portr\u00e4t eine Last vom Herzen gefallen. Er wunderte sich nun selbst \u00fcber seine Geh\u00e4ssigkeit, seinen Neid und die offensichtliche Ver\u00e4nderung seines Charakters. Als er sich seine Handlungsweise \u00fcberlegt hatte, sp\u00fcrte er Trauer in seiner Seele und sagte sich nicht ohne Zerknirschung: \u203aNein, das war eine Strafe Gottes; mein Bild ist mit Recht unterlegen. Es war mit der Absicht begonnen worden, um meinen N\u00e4chsten zugrunde zu richten. Das d\u00e4monische Gef\u00fchl des Neides hat meinen Pinsel geleitet, und ein d\u00e4monisches Gef\u00fchl hat sich auch dem Bilde mitgeteilt.\u2039 Er suchte sofort seinen fr\u00fcheren Sch\u00fcler auf, umarmte ihn, bat ihn um Verzeihung und gab sich jede M\u00fche, sein Vergehen wieder gut zu machen. Nun konnte er wieder ruhig arbeiten, aber sein Gesicht zeigte immer wieder einen nachdenklichen Ausdruck. Er betete immer mehr, war \u00f6fter schweigsam und urteilte nicht mehr so streng \u00fcber die Menschen; selbst seine \u00e4u\u00dferen Umgangsformen wurden milder. Bald darauf ersch\u00fctterte ihn ein Ereignis noch mehr. Er hatte seinen Freund, der sich das Portr\u00e4t von ihm erbettelt hatte, lange nicht gesehen. Schon wollte er ihn aufsuchen, als jener pl\u00f6tzlich selbst zu ihm ins Zimmer trat. Nach einigen Worten und Fragen von den beiden Seiten sagte jener: \u203aNicht umsonst hast du das Portr\u00e4t verbrennen wollen, Bruder. Hol es der Teufel, es ist etwas Schreckliches darin... Ich glaube nicht an Hexerei, aber in diesem Portr\u00e4t steckt, du magst sagen, was du willst, etwas Teuflisches...\u2039\n\n\u203aWieso?\u2039 fragte mein Vater.\n\n\u203aGleich nachdem ich es bei mir im Zimmer aufgeh\u00e4ngt hatte, beschlich mich ein so bedr\u00fcckendes Gef\u00fchl, als wollte ich jemand erstechen. Mein Lebtag habe ich nicht gewu\u00dft, was Schlaflosigkeit ist, jetzt aber habe ich nicht nur die Schlaflosigkeit kennen gelernt, sondern auch solche Tr\u00e4ume, da\u00df... Ich vermag selbst nicht zu sagen, ob es blo\u00df Tr\u00e4ume sind oder etwas anderes: es ist mir, wie wenn ein Teufel mich w\u00fcrgte, und dabei sehe ich immer den verfluchten Alten vor mir. Mit einem Worte, ich kann dir meinen Zustand gar nicht beschreiben. Etwas \u00c4hnliches habe ich noch nie erlebt. Alle diese Tage irrte ich wie ein Verr\u00fcckter herum: ich f\u00fchlte fortw\u00e4hrend irgendeine Angst, irgendeine unangenehme Erwartung. Ich f\u00fchle, da\u00df ich kein einziges lustiges, aufrichtiges Wort sprechen kann; es ist mir, als ob in mir ein Spion s\u00e4\u00dfe. Erst als ich das Portr\u00e4t meinem Neffen schenkte, der selbst danach verlangte, war es mir, als ob mir ein Stein vom Herzen gefallen w\u00e4re: pl\u00f6tzlich f\u00fchlte ich mich wieder lustig, wie du mich jetzt siehst. Ja, Bruder, einen sch\u00f6nen Teufel hast du fertig gekriegt!\u2039\n\nMein Vater h\u00f6rte seinen Bericht mit gespannter Aufmerksamkeit an und fragte schlie\u00dflich: \u203aBefindet sich das Portr\u00e4t jetzt bei deinem Neffen?\u2039\n\n\u203aAch was, beim Neffen! Der hielt es auch nicht aus!\u2039 sagte der lustige Patron. \u203aDie Seele des Wucherers scheint ins Portr\u00e4t gefahren zu sein: er springt aus dem Rahmen, geht durch das Zimmer, und was mein Neffe \u00fcber ihn erz\u00e4hlt, ist einfach unfa\u00dfbar. Ich w\u00fcrde ihn f\u00fcr verr\u00fcckt halten, wenn ich es zum Teil nicht auch selbst erlebt h\u00e4tte. Er hat das Portr\u00e4t irgendeinem Bildersammler verkauft, und auch dieser hielt es nicht aus und verkaufte es weiter.\u2039\n\nDiese Erz\u00e4hlung machte auf meinen Vater einen starken Eindruck. Er wurde tief nachdenklich, verfiel in Hypochondrie und war zuletzt ganz davon \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df sein Pinsel als teuflisches Werkzeug gedient habe, da\u00df das Leben des Wucherers auf irgendeine Weise zum Teil wirklich ins Portr\u00e4t gefahren sei und die Menschen beunruhige, indem es ihnen teuflische Gedanken eing\u00e4be, die K\u00fcnstler vom Wege abbringe, gr\u00e4\u00dflichen Neid erzeuge usw. Die drei Ungl\u00fccksf\u00e4lle, die sich bald darauf ereigneten, die drei pl\u00f6tzlichen Tode: der seiner Frau, seiner Tochter und seines kleinen Sohnes sah er als eine himmlische Strafe an und fa\u00dfte den unab\u00e4nderlichen Entschlu\u00df, die Welt zu fliehen. Als ich neun Jahre alt geworden war, gab er mich auf die Kunstakademie, rechnete dann mit allen seinen Gl\u00e4ubigern ab und zog sich in ein entlegenes Kloster zur\u00fcck, wo er bald darauf die M\u00f6nchsweihen empfing. Dort setzte er durch seine strenge Lebensf\u00fchrung und durch die peinliche Befolgung aller Klosterregeln die M\u00f6nche in Erstaunen. Als der Prior des Klosters von seiner Kunst erfuhr, gab er ihm den Auftrag, f\u00fcr die Klosterkirche ein Altarbild zu malen. Aber der dem\u00fctige Bruder weigerte sich entschieden und sagte, da\u00df er unw\u00fcrdig sei, den Pinsel zu ergreifen, weil dieser entweiht sei, und da\u00df er erst durch M\u00fche und gro\u00dfe Opfer seine Seele l\u00e4utern m\u00fcsse, um der Ehre teilhaftig zu werden, solch ein Werk zu unternehmen. Man wollte ihn dazu nicht zwingen. Er erschwerte f\u00fcr sich selbst, soweit es ging, die Strenge des kl\u00f6sterlichen Lebens. Zuletzt erschien ihm auch dieses nicht streng genug. Mit Genehmigung des Priors entfernte er sich in eine Einsiedelei, um ganz allein zu sein. Dort baute er sich aus Baum\u00e4sten eine Zelle, lebte nur von rohen Wurzeln, schleppte Steine von einem Ort zum andern und stand von Sonnenaufgang bis zum Sonnenuntergang immer auf dem gleichen Fleck, die Arme gen Himmel erhoben und unausgesetzt Gebete sprechend \u2013 mit einem Worte, er erfand wohl alle denkbaren Stufen der Kasteiung und jener unfa\u00dfbaren Selbstaufopferung, f\u00fcr die man h\u00f6chstens in der Heiligenlegende Beispiele finden kann. So kasteite er lange, mehrere Jahre hindurch seinen K\u00f6rper und st\u00e4rkte ihn zugleich mit der belebenden Kraft des Gebets. Endlich kam er eines Tages ins Kloster und sagte dem Prior mit fester Stimme: \u203aNun bin ich bereit; wenn es Gott gef\u00e4llig ist, werde ich das Werk vollenden.\u2039 Der Gegenstand, den er w\u00e4hlte, war die Geburt des Heilands. Ein ganzes Jahr arbeitete er daran, ohne seine Zelle zu verlassen, von karger Kost lebend und ununterbrochen betend. Nach Ablauf des Jahres war das Bild fertig. Es war tats\u00e4chlich ein Wunder der Malkunst. Es ist zu bemerken, da\u00df weder die Klosterbr\u00fcder noch der Prior viel Verst\u00e4ndnis f\u00fcr die Malerei hatten, aber alle waren \u00fcber den ungew\u00f6hnlich heiligen Ausdruck der Gestalten erstaunt. Das Gef\u00fchl g\u00f6ttlicher Demut und Milde im Antlitz der allerreinsten Gottesmutter, die sich \u00fcber das Kind beugte, die tiefe Weisheit in den Augen des g\u00f6ttlichen Kindes, das schon das feierliche Schweigen der vom g\u00f6ttlichen Wunder ersch\u00fctterten heiligen drei K\u00f6nige zu seinen F\u00fc\u00dfen in der Zukunft zu schauen schien, und endlich die heilige, unaussprechliche Stille, von der das ganze Bild erf\u00fcllt war \u2013 dies alles stellte sich in einer so harmonischen Kraft und machtvollen Sch\u00f6nheit dar, da\u00df der Eindruck magisch war. Alle Klosterbr\u00fcder fielen vor dem neuen Bilde in die Knie, und der ger\u00fchrte Prior sprach: \u203aNein es ist unm\u00f6glich, da\u00df ein Mensch mit Hilfe der menschlichen Kunst allein ein solches Kunstwerk geschaffen hat: eine heilige, h\u00f6here Macht hat deinen Pinsel geleitet, und der Segen des Himmels senkte sich auf dein Werk herab.\u2039\n\nUm diese Zeit beendete ich das Studium an der Akademie, erhielt die goldene Medaille und mit ihr die beseligende Aussicht auf eine Italienreise \u2013 den sch\u00f6nsten Traum eines jungen K\u00fcnstlers. Mir blieb nur noch, mich von meinem Vater zu verabschieden, den ich seit zw\u00f6lf Jahren nicht gesehen hatte. Ich mu\u00df gestehen, da\u00df selbst sein Bild aus meiner Erinnerung geschwunden war. Ich hatte schon einiges von der strengen Heiligkeit seines Lebens geh\u00f6rt und stellte ihn mir als einen rauhen Einsiedler vor, der gegen alles in der Welt au\u00dfer seiner Zelle und seinen Gebeten gleichg\u00fcltig sei, als einen ausgemergelten, durch das ewige Fasten und Wachen ersch\u00f6pften Menschen. Wie war ich aber erstaunt, als ich vor mir einen sch\u00f6nen, beinahe g\u00f6ttlichen Greis erblickte! Sein Gesicht zeigte nicht die geringste Spur von Kasteiungen: es leuchtete vor himmlischer Heiterkeit. Der schneewei\u00dfe Bart und die feinen, beinahe luftigen Haare vom selben silbernen Wei\u00df flossen malerisch \u00fcber seine Brust und die Falten seiner schwarzen Kutte und fielen bis zum Strikke herab, mit dem er sein \u00e4rmliches M\u00f6nchsgewand umg\u00fcrtete. Am meisten war ich aber erstaunt, als ich aus seinem Munde Worte und Gedanken \u00fcber die Kunst h\u00f6rte, die ich, offen gestanden, lange in meiner Seele bewahren werde, und ich w\u00fcnsche aufrichtig, da\u00df auch jeder meiner Br\u00fcder in der Kunst dasselbe tue.\n\n\u203aIch habe dich erwartet, mein Sohn,\u2039 sagte er mir, als ich auf ihn zuging, um mir seinen Segen zu erbitten. \u203aEs steht dir ein Weg bevor, dem dein Leben nun folgen wird. Dein Weg ist rein, irre von ihm nicht ab. Du hast ein Talent; das Talent ist das kostbarste Geschenk Gottes \u2013 richte es nicht zugrunde. Erforsche und studiere alles, was du erblickst, mache alles deinem Pinsel untertan; lerne aber, in allem die darin verborgene Idee erkennen und bem\u00fche dich am meisten, das hohe Geheimnis der Sch\u00f6pfung zu ergr\u00fcnden. Selig ist der Auserw\u00e4hlte, der es beherrscht. F\u00fcr diesen gibt es in der ganzen Natur nichts Gemeines. Der sch\u00f6pfende K\u00fcnstler ist im Geringen ebenso gro\u00df wie im Gro\u00dfen; im Ver\u00e4chtlichen gibt es f\u00fcr ihn nichts Ver\u00e4chtliches, denn es ist sichtbar von der sch\u00f6nen Seele des Sch\u00f6pfers durchleuchtet, und das Ver\u00e4chtliche erh\u00e4lt dadurch einen erhabenen Ausdruck, weil es im Fegefeuer seiner Seele gel\u00e4utert worden ist... Die Ahnung vom G\u00f6ttlichen, vom himmlischen Paradiese ist f\u00fcr den Menschen in der Kunst enthalten, und schon darum ist sie erhabener als alles. Ebenso wie feierliche Ruhe \u00fcber jede weltliche Unruhe erhaben ist, so erhaben ist auch die Sch\u00f6pfung \u00fcber die Zerst\u00f6rung; wie der Engel schon durch die keusche Unschuld seiner lichten Seele \u00fcber die zahllosen Heere und die hochm\u00fctigen Leidenschaften des Satans erhaben ist, so steht auch die hehre Sch\u00f6pfung der Kunst \u00fcber allen Dingen der Welt. Bringe ihr alles zum Opfer und liebe sie mit deiner ganzen Leidenschaft \u2013 nicht mit der Leidenschaft, die irdisches Begehren atmet, sondern mit der stillen, himmlischen Leidenschaft: ohne sie hat der Mensch nicht die Gewalt, sich \u00fcber die Erde zu erheben und die wunderbaren T\u00f6ne des Friedens anzustimmen; denn das hehre Werk der Kunst steigt auf die Erde herab, nur um allen Ruhe und Vers\u00f6hnung einzufl\u00f6\u00dfen. Es kann in der Seele kein Murren wecken, sondern strebt als klingendes Gebet zu Gott empor. Aber es gibt Augenblicke, finstere Augenblicke...\u2039 Er hielt inne, und ich merkte, da\u00df sein leuchtendes Antlitz pl\u00f6tzlich wie von einer fl\u00fcchtigen Wolke verd\u00fcstert wurde. \u203aEs gab ein Ereignis in meinem Leben,\u2039 sagte er. \u203aIch kann auch heute nicht begreifen, wer jenes seltsame Wesen war, das ich malte. Es war wie eine teuflische Erscheinung. Ich wei\u00df, die Welt leugnet die Existenz des Teufels, und darum werde ich von ihm nicht sprechen; ich will nur sagen, da\u00df ich ihn mit Abscheu malte: damals f\u00fchlte ich nicht die geringste Liebe f\u00fcr mein Werk. Ich wollte mich gewaltsam bezwingen und alles in mir unterdr\u00fccken, um seelenlos treu der Natur zu folgen. Es war keine Sch\u00f6pfung der Kunst, und darum sind die Gef\u00fchle, die sich der Menschen bei seinem Anblick bem\u00e4chtigen, aufr\u00fchrerische, unruhige Gef\u00fchle und nicht die eines K\u00fcnstlers, denn der K\u00fcnstler atmet selbst in der Unruhe Ruhe. Man sagte mir, das Portr\u00e4t gehe von Hand zu Hand und verbreite die qu\u00e4lendsten Eindr\u00fccke; es erzeuge im K\u00fcnstler Neid, finsteren Ha\u00df gegen seinen Bruder und das geh\u00e4ssige Bestreben, alles zu unterdr\u00fccken und zu verfolgen. Der Allm\u00e4chtige m\u00f6ge dich vor solchen Leidenschaften bewahren! Es gibt nichts Schrecklicheres als sie. Es ist besser, selbst die ganze Bitternis aller m\u00f6glichen Verfolgungen zu kosten, als einen andern zu verfolgen. Bewahre die Reinheit deiner Seele. Wer ein Talent in sich birgt, der mu\u00df an Seele reiner als alle sein. Einem andern wird vieles verziehen, was ihm nicht verziehen wird. Wenn ein Mensch in hellem festlichen Gewande aus dem Hause getreten ist, so gen\u00fcgt schon ein einziger Schmutzspritzer von einem Wagen, damit die Menge ihn umringe, auf ihn mit dem Finger weise und von seiner Unsauberkeit spreche, w\u00e4hrend die gleiche Menge die vielen Schmutzspritzer an anderen Menschen, die ihre Werktagskleider anhaben, nicht sieht; denn auf den Werktagskleidern sind die Flecken nicht sichtbar.\u2039\n\nEr segnete und umarmte mich. Nie im Leben war ich von solcher R\u00fchrung ersch\u00fcttert wie an diesem Tag. And\u00e4chtig, mit einem Gef\u00fchl, das mehr als Sohnesliebe war, fiel ich ihm an die Brust und k\u00fc\u00dfte seine herabflie\u00dfenden silbernen Haare.\n\nTr\u00e4nen gl\u00e4nzten in seinen Augen. \u203aMein Sohn, erf\u00fclle mir meine einzige Bitte,\u2039 sagte er beim Abschied. \u203aVielleicht wird es sich f\u00fcgen, da\u00df du irgendwo das Portr\u00e4t findest, von dem ich sprach \u2013 du wirst es an den ungew\u00f6hnlichen Augen und an ihrem nat\u00fcrlichen Ausdruck erkennen \u2013 so vernichte es um jeden Preis...\u2039\n\nSie k\u00f6nnen selbst urteilen, ob es mir m\u00f6glich war, ihm nicht zu schw\u00f6ren, seine Bitte zu erf\u00fcllen. F\u00fcnfzehn Jahre lang konnte ich nichts finden, was auch entfernt der Beschreibung, die mir mein Vater gab, entsprochen h\u00e4tte. Aber auf dieser Auktion...\u00ab\n\nDer K\u00fcnstler sprach den Satz nicht zu Ende und richtete seinen Blick auf die Wand, um das Portr\u00e4t noch einmal zu sehen. Die gleiche Bewegung machten augenblicklich auch alle Zuh\u00f6rer, und alle Augen suchten das ungew\u00f6hnliche Portr\u00e4t. Zum h\u00f6chsten Erstaunen aller hing es aber nicht mehr an der Wand. Ein unruhiges Gemurmel lief durch die ganze Menge, und gleich darauf lie\u00df sich deutlich das Wort vernehmen: \u00bbGestohlen!\u00ab Jemand hatte sich die Aufmerksamkeit der von der Erz\u00e4hlung hingerissenen Zuh\u00f6rer zunutze gemacht und das Bild entwendet. Lange noch blieben die Anwesenden best\u00fcrzt, und niemand wu\u00dfte, ob man die ungew\u00f6hnlichen Augen tats\u00e4chlich gesehen hatte, oder ob es nur ein Traum war, der ihren durch das lange Betrachten alter Bilder erm\u00fcdeten Augen vorgeschwebt.\n\n## DER MANTEL\n\nAn einer Ministerialabteilung... ich will die Ministerialabteilung nicht genauer bezeichnen. Es gibt nichts Unangenehmeres, als mit Angeh\u00f6rigen einer Ministerialabteilung, eines Regiments, einer Kanzlei, kurz, mit irgendeiner Amtsperson zu tun zu haben. Jeder Privatmensch glaubt heutzutage, man wolle in seiner Person die ganze Korporation beleidigen.\n\nMan erz\u00e4hlt, vor kurzem sei eine Beschwerde eines Kapit\u00e4n-Isprawniks, ich wei\u00df nicht mehr genau von welcher Stadt, eingelaufen, in der er beweist, da\u00df alle staatlichen Institutionen zugrunde gehen, und da\u00df sogar sein geheiligter Name mi\u00dfbraucht werde: als Beleg f\u00fcgte er seiner Beschwerdeschrift einen sehr dicken Band eines Romans bei, in dem mindestens alle zehn Seiten ein Kapit\u00e4n-Isprawnik auftritt, stellenweise sogar in vollst\u00e4ndig betrunkenem Zustand.\n\nZur Vermeidung etwaiger Unannehmlichkeiten ziehe ich es vor, die Ministerialabteilung, von der die Rede ist, \u00bbeine Ministerialabteilung\u00ab zu nennen.\n\nAn \u00bbeiner Ministerialabteilung\u00ab war also \u00bbein Beamter\u00ab angestellt. Man kann nicht behaupten, da\u00df es ein irgendwie bemerkenswerter Beamter war: er war klein, etwas pockennarbig, etwas rothaarig und anscheinend auch etwas kurzsichtig, er hatte eine kleine Glatze, runzlige Wangen und eine sogenannte h\u00e4morrhoidale Gesichtsfarbe... Da ist schon einmal das Petersburger Klima daran schuld. Was seinen Beamtenrang betrifft, so war er das, was man einen ewigen Titularrat nennt, einer jener Ungl\u00fccklichen, \u00fcber die schon verschiedene Schriftsteller, welche den lobenswerten Grundsatz haben, nur Wehrlose anzugreifen \u2013 ihre Witze gerissen haben. Sein Name war Baschmatschkin. Dieser Name* stammt offenbar von einem Schuh ab; der Zusammenhang l\u00e4\u00dft sich aber nicht mehr genau feststellen. Sein Vater und sein Gro\u00dfvater, sogar sein Schwager \u2013 kurz, alle Baschmatschkins trugen nur Stiefel, die sie dreimal im Jahre besohlen lie\u00dfen.\n\nMit dem Vor- und Vatersnamen hie\u00df er Akakij Akakijewitsch. Mancher Leser wird diesen Namen sonderbar und gesucht finden, ich kann aber versichern, da\u00df man ihn durchaus nicht gesucht hatte: die Umst\u00e4nde hatten sich so gef\u00fcgt, da\u00df es unm\u00f6glich ein anderer Name sein konnte. Dies geschah so: Akakij Akakijewitsch kam zur Welt, wenn mich mein Ged\u00e4chtnis nicht t\u00e4uscht, in der Nacht zum 23. M\u00e4rz. Seine selige Mutter, eine brave Beamtenfrau, wollte, wie sich's geh\u00f6rt, den Taufnamen w\u00e4hlen. Ihr Bett stand der T\u00fcre gegen\u00fcber, rechts von ihr sa\u00df der Pate \u2013 der Senatsbeamte Iwan Iwanowitsch Jeroschkin, ein trefflicher Mensch, links die Patin \u2013 Arina Ssemjonowna Bjelobrjuschkowa, Polizeioffiziersgattin, eine Dame von hervorragenden Tugenden. Der W\u00f6chnerin wurden drei Namen vorgeschlagen: Mokius, Sossius und Chosdasates. \u00bbNein,\u00ab meinte die selige Mutter, \u00bbdie Namen sind etwas bunt.\u00ab Man tat ihr den Gefallen und schlug den Kalender an einer andern Stelle auf, da fand man wieder drei Namen: Trifilius, Dula und Barachasius.\n\n\u00bbSo ein Pech!\u00ab sagte die Alte, \u00bbschon wieder solche Namen. Ich habe noch nie solche nennen h\u00f6ren. Wenn es noch Baradates oder Baruch w\u00e4re, aber mein Gott: Trifilius und Barachasius!\u00ab\n\nMan bl\u00e4tterte weiter und kam auf die Namen Pausikachius und Bachtisius. \u00bbNun, ich seh' schon,\u00ab sagte die Alte, \u00bbda\u00df es ihm so bestimmt ist. Dann soll er schon lieber wie sein Vater hei\u00dfen. Sein Vater hie\u00df Akakij, so wollen wir ihn auch Akakij taufen.\u00ab So kam der Name Akakij Akakijewitsch zustande.\n\nW\u00e4hrend der Taufzeremonien machte das Kind eine sehr saure Miene, als ob es schon w\u00fc\u00dfte, da\u00df es nur bis zum Titularrat kommen w\u00fcrde. So ging alles zu, und ich habe es absichtlich mit dieser Ausf\u00fchrlichkeit geschildert, damit der Leser selbst einsieht, da\u00df unser Held keinen andern Namen tragen konnte.\n\nEs l\u00e4\u00dft sich nicht mehr feststellen, wann Akakij Akakijewitsch in die Kanzlei eintrat und durch wessen Vermittlung er diesen Posten erhielt. Viele Kanzleivorst\u00e4nde hatten einander abgel\u00f6st, er sa\u00df aber immer auf dem gleichen Platz und bekleidete immer das gleiche Amt eines Kopisten; man mu\u00dfte glauben, da\u00df er schon ganz fertig mit der Glatze und mit der Beamtenuniform zur Welt gekommen sei. Von seinen Kollegen wurde er mit wenig R\u00fccksicht behandelt, und selbst die Bureaudiener erhoben sich nicht von ihren Pl\u00e4tzen, wenn er vorbeiging; sie schenkten ihm so viel Beachtung, wie einer gew\u00f6hnlichen Fliege, die durchs Wartezimmer fliegt. Die Vorgesetzten behandelten ihn k\u00fchl und despotisch. So ein Gehilfe des Amtsvorstandes schob ihm die Papiere einfach vor die Nase, ohne die Worte: \u00bbMachen Sie eine Abschrift davon,\u00ab oder: \u00bbDa ist eine interessante, nette Akte,\u00ab oder sonst eine angenehme Bemerkung, wie sie in vornehmen \u00c4mtern \u00fcblich sind. Er nahm die Akten, ohne hinzusehen, wer ihm den Auftrag gab, und ob der betreffende \u00fcberhaupt dazu berechtigt war, und machte sich gleich an die Arbeit.\n\nDie j\u00fcngeren Beamten machten ihn zur Zielscheibe ihrer Witze und Streiche, soweit ihr Witz eben reichte. Sie erz\u00e4hlten in seiner Gegenwart unglaubliche Geschichten, in denen er als Held auftrat; sie behaupteten, da\u00df er von seiner Wirtin, einer siebzigj\u00e4hrigen Alten, geschlagen w\u00fcrde, und fragten ihn, wann er sie endlich heiraten wolle; sie sch\u00fctteten ihm auch Papierschnitzel auf den Kopf und nannten dies Schnee. Akakij Akakijewitsch sagte aber zu all dem kein Wort, als ob sie alle f\u00fcr ihn Luft w\u00e4ren, sogar die G\u00fcte seiner Abschriften wurde dadurch nicht beeintr\u00e4chtigt, und trotz aller Ablenkungen und Bel\u00e4stigungen sah man nie einen Schreibfehler in seinen Arbeiten. Wenn es schon gar zu arg wurde, wenn man ihn am Arm zupfte oder sonstwie am Schreiben hinderte, sagte er: \u00bbLassen Sie mich doch! Warum qu\u00e4len Sie mich?\u00ab Diese Worte klangen so r\u00fchrend und mitleiderregend, da\u00df ein junger Beamter, der dem Beispiel der andern folgend, ihn einmal verh\u00f6hnen wollte, unter dem Eindruck dieser Worte wie vom Blitze getroffen innehielt und seit diesem Vorfalle pl\u00f6tzlich alles in einem andern Licht zu sehen begann. Eine seltsame Macht trennte ihn von allen seinen Kollegen, die er fr\u00fcher f\u00fcr anst\u00e4ndige und wohlerzogene Menschen gehalten hatte. Und noch lange nachher, selbst in den fr\u00f6hlichsten Stunden, tauchte vor ihm oft das Bild des kleinen kahlk\u00f6pfigen Beamten auf mit den r\u00fchrenden Worten: \u00bbLassen Sie mich doch! Warum qu\u00e4len Sie mich?\u00ab In diesen Worten klang aber der Ausruf: \u00bbIch bin ja dein Bruder.\u00ab Und der arme junge Beamte bedeckte sein Gesicht mit den H\u00e4nden und zuckte zusammen, wenn er sah, wie unmenschlich oft ein Mensch ist, wie roh und grausam die gebildetsten und erzogensten Menschen sein k\u00f6nnen, ja, selbst solche, die allgemein f\u00fcr edel und gut gelten...\n\nMan findet wohl kaum einen Beamten, der so sehr seinem Dienste zugetan ist, wie es Akakij Akakijewitsch war. Er versah seinen Dienst nicht nur mit Eifer \u2013 auch mit Liebe. In der ewigen Anfertigung von Abschriften sah er eine abwechselungsreiche und pr\u00e4chtige Welt vor sich. Manchmal strahlte sein Gesicht; unter den Buchstaben hatte er einzelne Lieblinge, und wenn solche vorkamen, war er ganz au\u00dfer sich vor Freude, er l\u00e4chelte ihnen freundlich zu, und man konnte in seinem Gesicht wirklich lesen, welchen Buchstaben er gerade schrieb. Wenn die Bef\u00f6rderungen nur vom Eifer der Beamten abhingen, so w\u00e4re er zu seinem eigenen Erstaunen wohl l\u00e4ngst Staatsrat geworden; alles, was er erreichte, war aber, wie sich seine Kollegen ausdr\u00fcckten, ein Ehrenzeichen f\u00fcr langj\u00e4hrige treue Dienste nebst den dazu geh\u00f6renden H\u00e4morrhoiden.\n\nMan kann \u00fcbrigens nicht sagen, da\u00df ihn niemand zu w\u00fcrdigen verstand. Ein Amtsvorstand, der ihn in seiner Herzensg\u00fcte f\u00fcr die langen Dienstjahre belohnen wollte, lie\u00df ihm einmal eine Arbeit anvertrauen, die wichtiger war, als das gew\u00f6hnliche Abschreiben: er sollte n\u00e4mlich aus einem fertig vorliegenden Bericht einen neuen f\u00fcr eine andere Beh\u00f6rde machen. Die Arbeit bestand nur in der Ab\u00e4nderung der \u00dcberschrift und in der Transponierung der Zeitw\u00f6rter aus der ersten in die dritte Person. Diese Arbeit strengte ihn so sehr an, da\u00df der Schwei\u00df nur so herunterlief; endlich sagte er:\n\n\u00bbNein, geben Sie mir lieber etwas zum Abschreiben.\u00ab\n\nVon nun an lie\u00df man ihn nur Abschriften machen. Au\u00dfer dieser Arbeit hatte er f\u00fcr nichts in der Welt Interesse. Er sah auch nie auf seine Kleidung: sein Rock hatte l\u00e4ngst die vorschriftsm\u00e4\u00dfige gr\u00fcne Farbe verloren und war nun mehligbraun. Er trug einen engen, ganz niedrigen Kragen, und sein Hals, der eigentlich gar nicht \u00fcberm\u00e4\u00dfig lang war, erschien aus diesem Grunde so lang wie bei den Gipskatzen mit den nickenden K\u00f6pfen, die von russischen \u00bbItalienern\u00ab dutzendweise auf den K\u00f6pfen herumgetragen werden. An seinem Rock blieb immer etwas kleben oder h\u00e4ngen, bald ein Endchen Faden, bald ein Heuhalm. Er hatte ferner die ungew\u00f6hnliche F\u00e4higkeit, an einem Fenster just in dem Augenblick vorbeizugehen, wenn aus ihm gerade irgendwelcher Unrat auf die Stra\u00dfe gesch\u00fcttet wurde, und so trug er auf seinem Hut Melonenrinden und \u00e4hnliche Abf\u00e4lle davon. Dem Leben auf der Stra\u00dfe schenkte er nie Beachtung und stach in dieser Beziehung von den j\u00fcngeren Beamten ab, die sich freilich etwas zu viel f\u00fcr die Vorg\u00e4nge auf der Stra\u00dfe interessierten und oft sogar schmunzelnd feststellen, da\u00df bei einem Herrn, der auf der anderen Stra\u00dfenseite geht, eine Hosenstrippe sich losgemacht hat und baumelt.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch sah \u00fcberall die gleichm\u00e4\u00dfig geschriebenen Zeilen vor sich und nur wenn \u00fcber seiner Schulter pl\u00f6tzlich ein Pferdekopf auftauchte und ihn mit hei\u00dfem Atem anpustete, bemerkte er, da\u00df er sich nicht mitten in einer Zeile, sondern mitten auf der Stra\u00dfe befand. Zu Hause angelangt, setzte er sich sofort zu Tisch und verschlang seine Kohlsuppe und sein Zwiebelfleisch, ohne auf den Geschmack dieser Speisen zu achten; er a\u00df sie mit den Fliegen und sonstigen Beilagen, die Gott gerade spendete. Sobald er sich ges\u00e4ttigt hatte, zog er ein Tintenfa\u00df hervor und begann Abschriften von mitgebrachten Akten anzufertigen. Wenn f\u00fcrs Amt gerade nichts zu tun war, machte er Abschriften zu seinem eigenen Vergn\u00fcgen, mit besonderer Vorliebe von solchen Aktenst\u00fccken, die an eine hochstehende oder eine neu ernannte Pers\u00f6nlichkeit gerichtet waren; auf die sch\u00f6ne Fassung und auf den Inhalt sah er weniger.\n\nSelbst in jenen Stunden, wo der graue Petersburger Himmel dunkel wird und das ganze Beamtenvolk seinen Hunger je nach seinem Gehalt und nach seinen Neigungen gestillt hat; wenn alle ausgeruht haben vom Federgekritzel in den Kanzleien, vom Herumrennen in eigenen und fremden Gesch\u00e4ften und von aller M\u00fche, die der Mensch sich freiwillig und oft mehr als gut ist auferlegt; wenn die Beamten zu Vergn\u00fcgungen eilen, mit denen sie den Rest des Tages ausf\u00fcllen; der eine rennt ins Theater, der andere geht einfach auf die Stra\u00dfe, um den Damen unter die H\u00fcte zu schauen, mancher sucht eine Abendgesellschaft auf, um einem jungen M\u00e4dchen \u2013 einem Stern des engen Beamtenhimmels \u2013 die Cour zu schneiden; die meisten begeben sich zu einem Kollegen, der irgendwo im vierten oder dritten Stock in einer Mahnung von zwei bescheidenen Zimmern nebst K\u00fcche oder Vorzimmer haust, die mit einigem modernen Komfort ausgestattet ist \u2013 einer Lampe oder einem anderen Luxusgegenstand, der manche Entbehrung gekostet hat; mit einem Wort, selbst in jenen Stunden, wenn die Beamten Whist spielen, Tee trinken, billigen Zwieback knuspern, ihre langen Pfeifen rauchen und in den Spielpausen irgendeinen Klatsch aus der besseren Gesellschaft, f\u00fcr die der Russe in allen Lebenslagen Interesse hat, er\u00f6rtern, oder aus Ermangelung eines anderen Gespr\u00e4chsstoffes die alte Anekdote vom Kommandanten, dem gemeldet wurde, jemand habe dem Denkmal Peters des Gro\u00dfen den Schwanz abgehackt, wiedererz\u00e4hlen; kurz, wenn alle Zerstreuung suchen, machte Akakij Akakijewitsch eine Ausnahme. Nie sah man ihn in einer Gesellschaft. Nachdem er sich satt geschrieben, ging er zu Bett und l\u00e4chelte selig beim Gedanken: was werde ich wohl morgen zum Abschreiben bekommen.\n\nSo flo\u00df das friedliche Leben dieses Menschen dahin, der bei vierhundert Rubeln Jahresgehalt mit seinem Los zufrieden war; es h\u00e4tte vielleicht bis ins hohe Alter hinein so flie\u00dfen k\u00f6nnen, wenn es nicht verschiedene Mi\u00dfgeschicke g\u00e4be, mit denen nicht nur der Lebensweg eines Titularrats bes\u00e4t ist, sondern auch der eines Geheimen, eines Wirklichen Geheimen, eines Hofrats wie \u00fcberhaupt eines jeden Rats, und selbst solcher Leute, die niemand Rat erteilen und niemand um Rat fragen.\n\nIn Petersburg haben alle diejenigen, die an die vierhundert Rubel Jahresgehalt bekommen, einen grimmigen Feind: es ist unser nordischer Frost, von dem \u00fcbrigens behauptet wird, er sei der Gesundheit zutr\u00e4glich. Um neun Uhr morgens, gerade um die Stunde, wenn die Ministerialbeamten ins Amt gehen, verteilt er an alle, ohne Ansehung der Person, so heftige Nasenst\u00fcber, da\u00df die armen Menschen gar nicht wissen, wo sie ihre Nasen hintun sollen. Und wenn der Frost selbst den h\u00f6chststehenden Beamten so zusetzt, da\u00df sie Kopfschmerzen bekommen und da\u00df ihre Augen tr\u00e4nen, dann sind die armen Titularr\u00e4te ganz schutzlos. Sie rennen, in ihre d\u00fcnnen M\u00e4ntel geh\u00fcllt, was sie rennen k\u00f6nnen die f\u00fcnf, sechs Stra\u00dfen bis zum Amt und trampeln dann im Portierzimmer so lange mit den Beinen, bis sie sich erw\u00e4rmen und die eingefrorene Begabung zur amtlichen T\u00e4tigkeit wieder auftaut.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch sp\u00fcrte seit einiger Zeit heftiges Stechen im R\u00fccken und in der einen Schulter, obwohl er den festgesetzten Weg von der Wohnung in die Kanzlei immer im schnellsten Tempo zur\u00fccklegte. Und da fiel es ihm ein, sein Mantel m\u00fcsse nicht ganz in Ordnung sein. Er unterzog ihn gleich einer eingehenden Untersuchung und stellte fest, da\u00df der Stoff an einigen Stellen, und zwar gerade im R\u00fccken und auf der Schulter so d\u00fcnn wie Kanevas geworden war: das Tuch war ganz durchgewetzt und auch das Futter war arg zerrissen. Es mu\u00df hier erw\u00e4hnt werden, da\u00df dieser Mantel von den Kollegen arg bekrittelt wurde; sie w\u00fcrdigten ihn nicht einmal der Bezeichnung \u00bbMantel\u00ab und nannten ihn ver\u00e4chtlich Morgenrock. Der Mantel hatte auch wirklich ein ganz eigent\u00fcmliches Aussehen: der Kragen wurde von Jahr zu Jahr kleiner, denn er mu\u00dfte zum Flikken anderer schadhafter Stellen herhalten. Diese Ausbesserungen zeugten von einer nicht allzu gro\u00dfen Kunstfertigkeit des Schneiders und nahmen sich wenig sch\u00f6n aus.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch kam zum Entschlu\u00df, den Mantel dem Schneider Petrowitsch in Behandlung zu geben. Dieser wohnte irgendwo im vierten Stock eines Hinterhauses und befa\u00dfte sich, trotz seines schielenden Auges und seines pockennarbigen Gesichts, mit ziemlichem Erfolg mit dem Ausbessern von Hosen und Fr\u00e4cken der Beamten und auch anderer Menschen: nat\u00fcrlich, wenn er nicht gerade betrunken war oder andere Gedanken im Kopfe hatte. Dieser Schneider verdient eigentlich gar nicht, da\u00df ich von ihm viel spreche; da es aber einmal Sitte ist, alle handelnden Personen einer Erz\u00e4hlung genau zu beschreiben, so mu\u00df ich auch diesen Petrowitsch vorf\u00fchren. Vor Jahren, als er noch Leibeigener war, hie\u00df er einfach Grigorij; den Namen Petrowitsch legte er sich erst dann zu, als er frei wurde und an den Feiertagen \u2013 zun\u00e4chst nur an den gro\u00dfen, sp\u00e4ter aber an allen Tagen, die im Kalender mit einem Kreuz bezeichnet sind \u2013 zu trinken begann. In dieser Beziehung war er den Sitten seiner V\u00e4ter treu, und wenn er dar\u00fcber mit seiner Frau polemisierte, schalt er sie eine weltliche Person und eine Deutsche. Da schon einmal von der Frau die Rede ist, so m\u00fc\u00dfte ich auch ihr einige Worte widmen; das einzige, was ich sagen kann, ist aber nur das: Petrowitsch hatte eine Frau, sie trug statt eines Kopftuches ein H\u00e4ubchen und war anscheinend nicht sonderlich sch\u00f6n: wenn sie durch die Stra\u00dfe ging, schenkten ihr h\u00f6chstens Gardesoldaten einige Beachtung, und selbst diese drehten den Schnurrbart und gaben einen eigent\u00fcmlichen Laut von sich, sobald sie ihr unter die Haube geschaut hatten.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch ging also zu Petrowitsch hinauf; die Treppe war schmutzig und feucht und von einem Schnapsduft erf\u00fcllt, der allen Petersburger Hintertreppen eigen ist. Unterwegs \u00fcberlegte er sich, wieviel wohl Petrowitsch f\u00fcr die Arbeit verlangen w\u00fcrde; er war entschlossen, keineswegs mehr als zwei Rubel zu zahlen. Die Wohnungst\u00fcr stand offen, denn Frau Petrowitsch bereitete gerade irgendein Fischgericht, und die K\u00fcche war so voller Rauch, da\u00df man selbst die Schaben nicht unterscheiden konnte. Akakij Akakijewitsch passierte die K\u00fcche, ohne von der Frau gesehen zu werden, und kam in einen Raum, wo Petrowitsch selbst auf einem einfachen Tisch, mit untergeschlagenen Beinen wie ein t\u00fcrkischer Pascha thronte, und zwar, wie alle Schneider bei der Arbeit, mit nackten F\u00fc\u00dfen; das erste, was Akakij Akakijewitsch in die Augen sprang, war die gro\u00dfe Zehe, deren verst\u00fcmmelter Nagel an eine Schildkr\u00f6tenschale gemahnte. Er hatte mehrere Fitzen Zwirn und N\u00e4hseide um den Hals h\u00e4ngen und arbeitete gerade an einem au\u00dferordentlich zerlumpten Kleidungsst\u00fcck. Seit drei Minuten m\u00fchte er sich mit einem Faden ab, der durchaus nicht in das Nadel\u00f6hr gehen wollte; er schimpfte auf die Dunkelheit und auf den Faden: \u00bbEr will nicht, der Hund! Der Halunke bringt mich noch ins Grab!\u00ab\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch tat es leid, da\u00df er Petrowitsch in so schlechter Laune antraf: er liebte es, seine Auftr\u00e4ge ihm dann zu erteilen, wenn der Schneider etwas angeheitert, oder, wie seine Frau sich ausdr\u00fcckte, \u00bbstinkbesoffen wie ein Teufel\u00ab war. In diesem Zustande war er sehr entgegenkommend und nachgiebig, er machte sogar h\u00f6fliche Verbeugungen und dankte f\u00fcr den Auftrag. Allerdings kam dann sp\u00e4ter die Frau mit der Behauptung, er sei betrunken gewesen und habe nur daher diesen billigen Preis gemacht: mit einem Zehnkopekenst\u00fcck war aber auch sie zu bes\u00e4nftigen. Jetzt schien Petrowitsch n\u00fcchtern, und in solchen Augenblicken war er stets hart und eigensinnig und machte ganz wahnsinnige Preise. Akakij Akakijewitsch \u00fcberblickte gleich die Situation und wollte eigentlich abziehen; es war aber zu sp\u00e4t. Petrowitsch sah ihn mit seinem einzigen Auge durchdringend an, und Akakij Akakijewitsch murmelte verlegen:\n\n\u00bbGuten Tag, Petrowitsch!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbRecht guten Tag, Herr...\u00ab erwiderte Petrowitsch und schielte auf die H\u00e4nde des Gastes, um zu sehen, was er mitgebracht habe.\n\n\u00bbIch komme, Petrowitsch, um... das hei\u00dft...\u00ab\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch gebrauchte mit besonderer Vorliebe Pr\u00e4positionen, Adverbien, und ganz bedeutungslose Partikel. War die Sache aber irgendwie schwierig, so pflegte er seinen Satz nicht zu Ende zu sprechen; er begann oft seine Rede mit den Worten: \u00bbDies ist wirklich ganz, sozusagen...\u00ab und blieb dann stehen, in der Meinung, er habe seine Gedanken klar ausgedr\u00fcckt.\n\n\u00bbWas gibt's denn?\u00ab fragte Petrowitsch und musterte dabei mit seinem einzigen Auge die ganze Kleidung Akakij Akakijewitschs vom Kragen bis zu den \u00c4rmeln, Rocksch\u00f6\u00dfen und Knopfl\u00f6chern; dies alles war ihm wohlbekannt, denn es war seine eigene Arbeit; die Schneider sind einmal so, da\u00df sie immer zuerst die Kleidung betrachten.\n\n\u00bbIch komme also, Petrowitsch... wei\u00dft du, dieser Mantel da... das hei\u00dft, das Tuch ist ja ganz gut; es ist nur etwas verstaubt und sieht daher alt aus, es ist aber ganz neu; aber da, an einer Stelle, im R\u00fccken, und auch hier in der Schulter, ist es etwas abgerieben, und auch auf der anderen Schulter, siehst du? Das w\u00e4re alles. Die Arbeit ist ja nicht gro\u00df...\u00ab\n\nPetrowitsch nahm den Morgenrock in die Hand, breitete ihn auf dem Tische aus und griff nach seiner runden Tabaksdose, deren Deckel mit dem Bildnis eines Generals geschm\u00fcckt war; wer der dargestellte General war, lie\u00df sich nicht mehr feststellen, denn gerade auf der Stelle des Gesichts hatte der Deckel ein von einem Finger herr\u00fchrendes Loch, das nun mit einem viereckigen St\u00fcck Papier \u00fcberklebt war. Petrowitsch nahm eine Prise, betrachtete den Morgenrock von neuem, hielt ihn gegen das Licht und sch\u00fcttelte den Kopf. Darauf wandte er seine Aufmerksamkeit dem Futter zu und sch\u00fcttelte abermals den Kopf; dann \u00f6ffnete er wieder die Dose mit dem \u00fcberklebten Generalskopf, nahm eine t\u00fcchtige Prise, stellte die Dose weg und sagte endlich:\n\n\u00bbNein, da ist nichts zu machen. Der Mantel taugt nichts.\u00ab\n\nBei diesen Worten bekam Akakij Akakijewitsch Herzklopfen.\n\n\u00bbWarum denn, Petrowitsch?\u00ab fragte er mit flehender, kindlicher Stimme. \u00bbEr ist ja nur an den Schultern etwas abgerieben; du wirst doch schon einen passenden Fleck finden, um es auszubessern...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbJa, ein Fleck l\u00e4\u00dft sich wohl finden,\u00ab sagte Petrowitsch, \u00bbaber wie soll ich ihn ann\u00e4hen? Das Tuch ist ja schon ganz faul, wenn man es mit der Nadel anr\u00fchrt, f\u00e4llt es auseinander.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNun, wo's auseinanderf\u00e4llt, da setzt du gleich einen Fleck hin.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWorauf soll ich denn den Fleck befestigen? Der Stoff ist zu sehr abgetragen. Sie k\u00f6nnen es meinetwegen Tuch nennen, das Zeug fliegt aber beim ersten Windsto\u00df in Fetzen auseinander.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbVersuchs einmal. Wie w\u00e4re es denn sonst wirklich...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein!\u00ab sagte Petrowitsch sehr entschieden. \u00bbDa kann ich nichts machen, die Sache ist hoffnungslos. Machen Sie sich lieber Fu\u00dflappen daraus f\u00fcr den Winter; denn Str\u00fcmpfe halten ja nicht gen\u00fcgend warm, die Deutschen haben sie erfunden, um mehr Geld zu verdienen. (Petrowitsch liebte von Zeit zu Zeit Ausf\u00e4lle gegen die Deutschen zu machen.) Was aber den Mantel betrifft, so m\u00fcssen Sie sich halt einen neuen machen lassen.\u00ab\n\nBeim Worte \u00bbneu\u00ab wurde es Akakij Akakijewitsch ganz schwindelig, das ganze Zimmer drehte sich um ihn; das einzige, was er noch deutlich sah, war der mit Papier \u00fcberklebte General auf Petrowitschs Tabaksdose.\n\n\u00bbEinen neuen?\u00ab sagte er wie im Traume. \u00bbIch habe ja kein Geld.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbJawohl, einen neuen Mantel,\u00ab best\u00e4tigte Petrowitsch mit grausamer Gelassenheit.\n\n\u00bbNun, und wenn es unbedingt ein neuer sein mu\u00df, wie w\u00e4re es dann...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSie meinen, was er kosten w\u00fcrde?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbJa.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbJa, da m\u00fc\u00dften Sie schon hundertf\u00fcnfzig Rubel anlegen,\u00ab sagte Petrowitsch und kniff dabei seine Lippen bedeutungsvoll zusammen. Er liebte \u00fcberhaupt starke Effekte und setzte gern einen in Verlegenheit, um dann den Gesichtsausdruck des so \u00dcberrumpelten zu beobachten.\n\n\u00bbWas! Hundertf\u00fcnfzig Rubel f\u00fcr einen Mantel!\u00ab schrie der arme Akakij Akakijewitsch auf; er schrie wohl \u00fcberhaupt zum ersten Mal in seinem Leben, denn er zeichnete sich sonst durch seinen ruhigen stillen Ton aus.\n\n\u00bbJawohl,\u00ab sagte Petrowitsch, \u00bbund dann kommt es noch auf die G\u00fcte des Mantels an. Wenn wir einen Marderkragen nehmen und die Kapuze mit Seide f\u00fcttern, so k\u00f6nnen es auch zweihundert werden.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbPetrowitsch, ich bitte dich,\u00ab flehte Akakij Akakijewitsch, die auf einen Effekt berechneten Ausf\u00fchrungen Petrowitsch ignorierend, \u00bbVersuchs doch mit einer Reparatur; vielleicht kann mir der Mantel doch noch eine kurze Zeit dienen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein, es w\u00e4re schade um die Arbeit und auch ums Geld,\u00ab sagte Petrowitsch.\n\nDiese Antwort wirkte auf den Armen ganz niederschmetternd, und er ging fort. Petrowitsch blieb noch eine Zeitlang in der gleichen Haltung mit zusammengekniffenen Lippen m\u00fc\u00dfig sitzen; er freute sich, da\u00df er nicht nachgegeben und auch das ehrsame Schneiderhandwerk nicht herabgew\u00fcrdigt hatte.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch ging durch die Stra\u00dfe wie ein Nachtwandler. \u00bbSo stehen die Sachen,\u00ab sprach er zu sich selbst, \u00bbich h\u00e4tte wirklich nicht erwartet, da\u00df sie so stehen...\u00ab Nach einer Pause f\u00fcgte er noch hinzu: \u00bbAlso, so ist's! So weit ist es gekommen! Ich h\u00e4tte es wirklich nicht erwartet.\u00ab Nach einer weiteren Pause sagte er noch: \u00bbSo, so! Ganz unerwartet kommt es... Es ist schon so eine Sache...\u00ab Er wollte eigentlich nach Hause, ging aber in einer ganz verkehrten Richtung. Unterwegs streifte ein Kaminkehrer seine Schulter, die nun ganz schwarz wurde; von einem Neubau fiel ihm eine ganze Ladung M\u00f6rtel auf den Kopf. Er sah und h\u00f6rte nichts und kam erst dann einigerma\u00dfen zur Besinnung, als er gegen einen Polizeisoldaten anprallte, der seine Hellebarde zur Seite gestellt hatte und gerade im Begriff war, eine Prise Schnupftabak zu nehmen.\n\n\u00bbWas rennst du einem in die Schnauze hinein?\u00ab schrie ihn dieser an. \u00bbKannst du denn nicht auf dem Trottoir gehen?\u00ab\n\nDiese Bemerkung r\u00fcttelte ihn auf; er kehrte um und war bald zu Hause. Hier sammelte er seine Gedanken und \u00fcberblickte mit klarem Auge die Lage; er setzte sein Selbstgespr\u00e4ch fort, aber nicht mehr in abrupten Ausrufen, wie vorhin, sondern in vern\u00fcnftigen S\u00e4tzen, wie man mit einem klugen Freunde \u00fcber eine intime Angelegenheit spricht:\n\n\u00bbMit dem Petrowitsch kann man ja jetzt gar nicht reden; er ist wohl etwas... Seine Frau hat ihn offenbar vorhin gepr\u00fcgelt. Ich will ihn lieber noch einmal, und zwar Sonntag fr\u00fch, aufsuchen: da wird er noch vom Samstag abend etwas verkatert sein und sich st\u00e4rken wollen; die Frau wird ihm aber kein Geld hergeben; wenn ich ihm da ein Zehnkopekenst\u00fcck in die Hand dr\u00fccke, wird er mit sich schon reden lassen und dann...\u00ab\n\nAm n\u00e4chsten Sonntag machte er sich wirklich auf den Weg; er sah Frau Petrowitsch gerade das Haus verlassen und st\u00fcrzte sofort die vier Treppen hinauf. Petrowitsch sah wirklich so aus, wie Akakij Akakijewitsch erwartet hatte: er war ganz verschlafen und konnte kaum den Kopf halten. Als er aber erfuhr, um was es sich handelte, wurde er wieder ganz wild.\n\n\u00bbNein, daraus wird nichts. Sie m\u00fcssen schon einen neuen bestellen.\u00ab\n\nNun dr\u00fcckte ihm Akakij Akakijewitsch die zehn Kopeken in die Hand.\n\n\u00bbIch danke ergebenst,\u00ab sagte der Schneider. \u00bbIch werde f\u00fcr Ihr Wohl etwas zu mir nehmen; was aber den Mantel betrifft, so k\u00f6nnen Sie ganz beruhigt sein: mit ihm ist nichts anzufangen. Daf\u00fcr will ich Ihnen einen ganz vorz\u00fcglichen neuen machen.\u00ab\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch machte noch einen sch\u00fcchternen Versuch, \u00fcber die Instandsetzung des alten zu sprechen. Petrowitsch lie\u00df ihn aber gar nicht ausreden:\n\n\u00bbEinen neuen will ich Ihnen gern machen und werde mir die gr\u00f6\u00dfte M\u00fche geben, Sie zufrieden zu stellen. Man k\u00f6nnte ihn auch nach der ganz neuen Mode machen: mit versilberten Haken am Kragen.\u00ab\n\nJetzt erst sah Akakij Akakijewitsch ein, da\u00df er unbedingt einen neuen Mantel brauche, und diese Einsicht betr\u00fcbte ihn au\u00dferordentlich. Wo sollte er denn das Geld hernehmen? Zu Weihnachten w\u00fcrde es allerdings eine Gratifikation geben, \u00fcber diese Summe hatte er aber schon l\u00e4ngst verf\u00fcgt: er brauchte neue Beinkleider, schuldete dem Schuster f\u00fcr das Ansetzen eines neuen Oberleders zu alten Stiefeln und wollte sich noch drei Hemden und zwei jener W\u00e4schest\u00fccke, die man in einem Buche nicht gut nennen kann, machen lassen. Kurz, die ganze Gratifikation hatte bereits ihre feste Bestimmung; selbst wenn der Direktor ihm statt der \u00fcblichen vierzig Rubel, f\u00fcnfundvierzig oder gar f\u00fcnfzig bewilligte, so w\u00fcrde auch das im Vergleich zu der n\u00f6tigen Summe ein Tropfen im Meere sein.\n\nPetrowitsch pflegte allerdings oft einen so horrenden Preis zu fordern, da\u00df selbst seine Frau dagegen protestierte: \u00bbBist du denn verr\u00fcckt? Manchmal arbeitest du ganz umsonst und jetzt verlangst du einen Preis, den du selbst nicht wert bist!\u00ab\n\nEs war also zu erwarten, da\u00df Petrowitsch seine Forderung auf achtzig Rubel herabsetzte; wo aber die achtzig Rubel hernehmen? Die H\u00e4lfte davon w\u00e4re noch aufzutreiben gewesen, sogar etwas mehr als die H\u00e4lfte; wo aber die andere H\u00e4lfte hernehmen? \u2013 Hier mu\u00df der Leser erfahren, wo Akakij Akakijewitsch die erste H\u00e4lfte hernehmen wollte. Von jedem ausgegebenen Rubel pflegte er n\u00e4mlich eine halbe Kopeke in eine Sparb\u00fcchse zu tun. Am Ende eines jeden Semesters nahm er die Kupferm\u00fcnzen heraus und wechselte sie gegen Silber um. So machte er es seit vielen Jahren, und die ersparte Summe betrug nun etwas \u00fcber vierzig Rubel. Die H\u00e4lfte war also vorhanden. Es fehlten aber noch immer vierzig Rubel. Akakij Akakijewitsch dachte lange nach und entschlo\u00df sich endlich, ein Jahr lang seine t\u00e4glichen Ausgaben aufs m\u00f6glichste herabzusetzen, also abends keinen Tee zu trinken und kein Licht zu machen, die Schreibarbeiten aber im Zimmer der Wirtin zu verrichten; bei den G\u00e4ngen in der Stadt die F\u00fc\u00dfe recht vorsichtig zu setzen und so die Schuhe zu schonen; schlie\u00dflich zu Hause als einzige Bekleidung seinen alten baumwollenen Schlafrock, der so ehrw\u00fcrdig alt war, da\u00df ihn selbst der Zahn der Zeit verschonte, zu tragen und m\u00f6glichst wenig W\u00e4sche zum Waschen zu geben.\n\nDiese Entbehrungen kamen ihn anfangs schwer an; er gew\u00f6hnte sich aber allm\u00e4hlich an diese Lebensweise und kam schlie\u00dflich ganz gut auch ohne Abendessen aus; daf\u00fcr aber hatte er geistige Nahrung in den ewigen Gedanken an den neuen Mantel. Sein Leben wurde reicher und inhaltsvoller, als ob er pl\u00f6tzlich geheiratet h\u00e4tte und seinen Lebensweg nicht mehr allein ginge: ein neuer Lebensgef\u00e4hrte begleitete ihn auf allen Wegen, und dies war ein gut wattierter, dauerhafter, neuer Mantel. Er wurde viel lebhafter, und sein Charakter festigte sich, denn nun hatte er ein Lebensziel. Seine Sch\u00fcchternheit, Unentschlossenheit und Unbeholfenheit waren ganz verschwunden. Seine Augen leuchteten, und durch seinen Kopf zogen ganz verwegene Gedanken: \u00bbsoll ich mir vielleicht doch einen Marderkragen machen lassen?\u00ab\n\nAlle diese Gedanken lenkten ihn so sehr ab, da\u00df er einmal beim Abschreiben beinahe einen Fehler gemacht h\u00e4tte. Er kam aber noch rechtzeitig zu sich, seufzte auf und bekreuzigte sich. Mindestens einmal im Monat suchte er Petrowitsch auf, um mit ihm \u00fcber den Mantel zu konferieren: es wurde er\u00f6rtert, wo man das Tuch am vorteilhaftesten kaufen und wieviel man daf\u00fcr zahlen solle. Er ging dann immer etwas besorgt, aber befriedigt heim und tr\u00e4umte von dem Tag, an dem er endlich den Mantel bekommen w\u00fcrde.\n\nDie Sache ging viel schneller, als er erwartete. Die Gratifikation betrug zu seiner gro\u00dfen \u00dcberraschung weder vierzig, noch f\u00fcnfundvierzig, sondern sechzig Rubel. Vielleicht ahnte der Direktor, da\u00df Akakij Akakijewitsch einen Mantel brauchte, oder war es nur ein reiner Zufall? Jedenfalls wurde dadurch die Sache sehr beschleunigt: er brauchte nur noch zwei bis drei Monate zu hungern, um die achtzig Rubel beisammen zu haben. Sein sonst so ruhiges Herz pochte lebhaft. Als die achtzig Rubel endlich da waren, ging er sofort mit Petrowitsch in einen Tuchladen.\n\nSie kauften ganz vorz\u00fcglich ein; \u2013 das fiel ihnen nicht schwer, denn sie hatten seit einem halben Jahr s\u00e4mtliche Tuchl\u00e4den abgesucht und alle Preise erfragt; Petrowitsch behauptete, es g\u00e4be gar kein besseres Tuch als dieses. Zum Futter nahmen sie Baumwollzeug, aber von der allerbesten Sorte; Petrowitsch meinte, es sei viel besser und sogar eleganter als Seide. Auf den Marderkragen mu\u00dften sie verzichten, denn der Preis war wirklich zu hoch; sie nahmen daf\u00fcr Katzenfell, ebenfalls von der besten Sorte; man konnte es aus einiger Entfernung f\u00fcr Marder halten.\n\nPetrowitsch brauchte zur Anfertigung des Mantels zwei Wochen; es war n\u00e4mlich viel Stepparbeit dabei, sonst w\u00e4re der Mantel fr\u00fcher fertig gewesen. Die Arbeit sollte zw\u00f6lf Rubel kosten; dies war auch das Aller\u00e4u\u00dferste, denn alles war mit Seide gen\u00e4ht, und jede Naht wurde von Petrowitsch mit den Z\u00e4hnen gegl\u00e4ttet, die im Tuch verschiedene eingepre\u00dfte Ornamente zur\u00fccklie\u00dfen.\n\nEs war an einem... ich wei\u00df nicht mehr, welcher Wochentag es war, jedenfalls war es aber der feierlichste Tag in Akakijs Leben, als er seinen Mantel bekam. Petrowitsch brachte ihn fr\u00fch morgens gerade um die Stunde, als Akakij Akakijewitsch ins Amt gehen wollte. Es war die passendste Zeit, denn die K\u00e4lte war schon recht empfindlich und wurde von Tag zu Tag strenger. Petrowitsch kam mit dem Mantel so feierlich an, wie es einem t\u00fcchtigen Schneider ziemt. Sein Gesicht hatte einen so ernsten und bedeutungsvollen Ausdruck, wie es Akakij Akakijewitsch bei ihm noch nie gesehen hatte. Er war sich der Wichtigkeit seines Werkes wohl bewu\u00dft und schien den Abgrund zu messen, der einen Flickschneider von einem solchen trennt, der neue Sachen anfertigt. Der Mantel war in ein reines Taschentuch geh\u00fcllt, das soeben von der Waschfrau gekommen war; erst, nachdem der Mantel ausgepackt war, steckte Petrowitsch das Tuch zum weiteren Gebrauch in die Tasche. Er nahm den Mantel mit beiden H\u00e4nden und warf ihn sehr elegant Akakij Akakijewitsch auf die Schultern, dann zog er ihn mit einer geschickten Bewegung hinten zurecht; hierauf drapierte er ihn etwas legerer. Akakij Akakijewitsch wollte den Mantel auch richtig, wie es einem \u00e4lteren Herrn ziemt, mit den \u00c4rmeln anprobieren; auch die \u00c4rmel sa\u00dfen vorz\u00fcglich. Mit einem Worte: der Mantel pa\u00dfte wunderbar. Petrowitsch lie\u00df sich nicht die Gelegenheit zu der Bemerkung entgehen, er habe den billigen Preis nur darum gemacht, weil er ohne Firmenschild in einer Nebengasse wohne und weil er Akakij Akakijewitsch so gut kenne; auf dem Newskij-Prospekt h\u00e4tte die Arbeit allein mindestens f\u00fcnfundsiebzig Rubel gekostet.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch wollte aber jede Diskussion \u00fcber diesen Gegenstand vermeiden, auch machten ihm die hohen Ziffern, mit denen Petrowitsch nur so herumwarf, ordentlich angst. Er bezahlte, dankte und ging sofort, mit dem neuen Mantel angetan, ins Amt. Petrowitsch begleitete ihn hinunter und blieb dann auf der Stra\u00dfe stehen, um den Mantel aus einiger Entfernung zu betrachten, dann rannte er durch ein Seiteng\u00e4\u00dfchen vor, so da\u00df er Akakij Akakijewitsch \u00fcberholte, um den Mantel wieder von einer anderen Seite in Augenschein zu nehmen.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch ging seinen Weg zum Amt in der rosigsten Laune. Bei jedem Schritt f\u00fchlte er den neuen Mantel auf seinen Schultern sitzen und l\u00e4chelte still in sich hinein. Zwei Vorteile sprangen ihm besonders in die Augen: erstens war der Mantel warm, zweitens war er sch\u00f6n.\n\nMit diesem Gedanken besch\u00e4ftigt kam er in die Kanzlei, legte den Mantel im Vorzimmer ab, betrachtete ihn noch einmal von allen Seiten und \u00fcbergab ihn endlich dem Portier mit der Weisung, auf ihn ganz besonders acht zu geben. Die Nachricht, da\u00df Akakij Akakijewitsch einen neuen Mantel habe, und da\u00df der Morgenrock nicht mehr existiere, verbreitete sich unter den Beamten wie ein Lauffeuer. Alle begaben sich ins Portierzimmer, um den Mantel zu begutachten. Akakij Akakijewitsch mu\u00dfte von allen Seiten Gratulationen entgegennehmen; anfangs strahlte er dabei, wurde aber dann verlegen. Man best\u00fcrmte ihn, er m\u00fcsse doch unbedingt die Neuanschaffung, wie es sich geh\u00f6rt, einweihen und ein Fest veranstalten; da wurde er ganz verlegen und wu\u00dfte nicht, wie er dem entrinnen sollte. Er war ganz rot und machte den Versuch, den Kollegen einzureden, der Mantel sei gar nicht neu, es sei vielmehr der alte Mantel.\n\nEiner der Vorgesetzten, der offenbar zeigen wollte, da\u00df er es nicht verschm\u00e4he, mit seinen Untergebenen zu verkehren, nahm sich seiner an und sagte:\n\n\u00bbIch will statt Akakij Akakijewitsch ein kleines Fest veranstalten und lade Sie hiermit f\u00fcr heute abend zum Tee ein; au\u00dferdem ist heute zuf\u00e4llig mein Namenstag.\u00ab\n\nDie Beamten gratulierten nun auch dem Vorgesetzten und nahmen die Einladung mit Dank an. Akakij Akakijewitsch wollte anfangs ablehnen, als man ihm aber bewies, da\u00df es sich nicht schicke, willigte er ein. Der Gedanke, da\u00df er nun die Gelegenheit haben werde, auch abends den neuen Mantel zu tragen, machte ihm sogar gro\u00dfe Freude. Dieser ganze Tag war f\u00fcr ihn ein Festtag. Auch nach Hause zur\u00fcckgekehrt, bewahrte er die gleiche rosige Stimmung. Er h\u00e4ngte den Mantel sorgf\u00e4ltig auf einen Wandhaken, betrachtete noch einmal das sch\u00f6ne Tuch und das Futter und nahm dann noch seinen alten, g\u00e4nzlich unbrauchbaren Mantel vor, um Vergleiche anzustellen. Der Unterschied war wirklich so gro\u00df, da\u00df er lachen mu\u00dfte. Und auch w\u00e4hrend seiner Mahlzeit l\u00e4chelte er beim Gedanken an den desperaten Zustand seines alten Morgenrocks. Er a\u00df mit gutem Appetit. Nach beendeter Mahlzeit lie\u00df er f\u00fcr diesmal seine gewohnte Abschreibearbeit ruhen und rekelte sich selig auf seinem Bett, bis der Abend anbrach. Dann kleidete er sich rasch um, zog seinen Mantel an und machte sich auf den Weg.\n\nWo der Vorgesetzte wohnte, der die Beamten zu sich eingeladen hatte, kann ich leider nicht angeben. Mein Ged\u00e4chtnis hat sich etwas getr\u00fcbt, und alle Stra\u00dfen und Gassen Petersburgs sind in meinem Kopf durcheinandergeraten. Eines steht fest: der Beamte wohnte in einem besseren Stadtteil, folglich in ziemlich gro\u00dfer Entfernung von der Wohnung des Akakij Akakijewitsch. Er ging anfangs durch ganz leere und sp\u00e4rlich beleuchtete Stra\u00dfen; je mehr er sich aber dem Ziele n\u00e4herte, um so belebter und vornehmer wurde die Gegend. Es begegneten ihm immer mehr Passanten, darunter auch solche mit teuren Biberkragen auf ihren M\u00e4nteln, auch viele elegante Damen sah er auf seinem Weg; die einfachen messingbeschlagenen Vorstadtschlitten wurden immer seltener, dagegen tauchten viele elegant lackierte Schlitten mit B\u00e4renfelldecken auf, die von Kutschern mit roten Samtm\u00fctzen gelenkt wurden. Alles kam unserm Akakij Akakijewitsch ganz neu vor; er war seit vielen Jahren wieder zum erstenmal abends auf der Stra\u00dfe. Er blieb neugierig vor der Auslage einer Bilderhandlung stehen und versenkte sich in die Betrachtung eines Bildes, auf dem eine sch\u00f6ne Dame dargestellt war, die sich gerade einen Schuh auszog und dabei ihr wirklich sch\u00f6nes F\u00fc\u00dfchen zeigte, w\u00e4hrend ein Herr mit Backenbart sie durch eine hinter ihrem R\u00fccken befindliche T\u00fcre beobachtete.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch sch\u00fcttelte den Kopf und ging l\u00e4chelnd weiter. Warum l\u00e4chelte er? Weil er in eine Welt hineingeschaut hatte, die ihm zwar fremd war, f\u00fcr die aber doch ein jeder etwas Interesse hat, oder weil ihm der \u00fcbliche Gedanke durch den Kopf ging: \u00bbNein, diese Franzosen! Wenn die schon etwas machen, so ist es sozusagen...\u00ab Vielleicht dachte er auch gar nicht daran; ich konnte ihm ja nicht ins Herz sehen und seine Gedanken lesen.\n\nEndlich erreichte er die Wohnung seines Vorgesetzten. Dieser lebte auf einem gro\u00dfen Fu\u00df: die Wohnung befand sich im zweiten Stock, und die Stiege war sogar beleuchtet. Im Vorzimmer stand bereits eine lange Reihe Galoschen, daneben dampfte und summte ein Samowar. An der Wand hingen viele Mantel und Paletots, darunter auch solche mit Biberkragen und Samtaufschlagen. Aus dem Nebenzimmer drangen Stimmen und Ger\u00e4usche, die ganz deutlich wurden, als sich die T\u00fcr \u00f6ffnete und ein Diener herauskam, der ein Tablett mit leeren Tassen, einem Milchtopf und einem Zwiebackkorb trug. Die Beamten waren wohl vollz\u00e4hlig versammelt und hatten anscheinend die erste Tasse Tee geleert.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch h\u00e4ngte nun seinen Mantel eigenh\u00e4ndig an die Wand und trat ein; er sah Kerzen, Beamte, Kartentische und Pfeifen vor sich und h\u00f6rte den L\u00e4rm vieler Stimmen und umherger\u00fcckter St\u00fchle. Er blieb verlegen mitten im Zimmer stehen und wu\u00dfte nicht, was er nun anfangen sollte. Man hatte ihn aber bereits bemerkt; die Kollegen begr\u00fc\u00dften ihn st\u00fcrmisch und gingen dann alle ins Vorzimmer hinaus, um den Mantel noch einmal in Augenschein zu nehmen. Akakij Akakijewitsch wurde ganz rot vor Verlegenheit, doch freute es ihn aufrichtig, da\u00df der Mantel allen so gut gefiel. Die Kollegen lie\u00dfen nat\u00fcrlich sehr bald ihn und seinen Mantel in Ruhe und wandten sich dem Whist zu. Der L\u00e4rm, das Stimmengewirr und die vielen Leute, kurz all das Ungewohnte wirkte auf den sch\u00fcchternen Akakij direkt bet\u00e4ubend; er wu\u00dfte nicht, wie er sich zu benehmen hatte und wo er seine H\u00e4nde und seine ganze Gestalt hintun sollte. Endlich lie\u00df er sich an einem der Spieltische nieder und begann den Spielern in die Karten zu schauen. Dies langweilte ihn auf die Dauer, und bald begann er zu g\u00e4hnen, denn die Stunde, um die er gew\u00f6hnlich zu Bett ging, war l\u00e4ngst vor\u00fcber. Er wollte sich verabschieden, man hielt ihn aber mit Gewalt zur\u00fcck: er m\u00fcsse noch unbedingt zur Feier des Tages Champagner trinken.\n\nBald kam das Abendessen, das aus einem Fleischsalat, kaltem Kalbsbraten, einer Pastete, Kuchen und Champagner bestand. Akakij Akakijewitsch mu\u00dfte zwei Glas davon trinken; dies heiterte ihn etwas auf, doch verga\u00df er f\u00fcr keinen Augenblick, da\u00df es schon zw\u00f6lf Uhr war und da\u00df er eigentlich l\u00e4ngst im Bett sein sollte. Er f\u00fcrchtete, wieder mit Gewalt zur\u00fcckgehalten zu werden und schlich sich unbemerkt ins Vorzimmer. Er fand da seinen Mantel auf dem Boden liegen, was ihn sehr betr\u00fcbte. Er hob ihn auf, putzte ihn sorgf\u00e4ltig und war bald auf der Stra\u00dfe.\n\nAuf der Stra\u00dfe herrschte noch immer reges Leben. Viele Gemischtwarenl\u00e4den \u2013 diese Versammlungslokale der Dienerschaft und auch anderer Menschen \u2013 waren noch ge\u00f6ffnet; andere L\u00e4den waren geschlossen, doch verriet der durch die T\u00fcrspalten dringende Lichtschein, da\u00df inwendig noch Leben herrschte und da\u00df manches Dienstm\u00e4dchen ihren Klatsch noch nicht beendet hatte. Akakij Akakijewitsch ging seinen Weg in der besten Gem\u00fctsverfassung und lie\u00df sich sogar hinrei\u00dfen, eine Zeitlang einer Dame zu folgen, bei der jeder K\u00f6rperteil ungew\u00f6hnliche Beweglichkeit verriet; sie verschwand aber wie ein Blitz aus seinem Gesichtskreis. Er wunderte sich selbst \u00fcber seine Unternehmungslust und ging zu seiner fr\u00fcheren gem\u00e4chlichen Gangart \u00fcber. Er kam allm\u00e4hlich in die stilleren entlegeneren Stra\u00dfen, die auch bei Tageslicht wenig anheimelnd sind, um so weniger aber nachts. Die Laternen wurden immer seltener, und ihr Licht wurde tr\u00fcber, denn in der Vorstadt sparte man offenbar mit dem \u00d6l. Endlose Bretterz\u00e4une zogen sich hin, und weit und breit war kein Mensch zu sehen. Man sah nur noch glitzernden Schnee und die kleinen H\u00e4uschen, in denen alles schlief. Er n\u00e4herte sich der Stelle, wo die lange Stra\u00dfe auf einen ungeheuer weiten Platz m\u00fcndete. Der Platz war so weit, da\u00df man die H\u00e4user auf der anderen Seite kaum sehen konnte.\n\nIrgendwo in der Ferne flackerte die Laterne eines Schilderh\u00e4uschens, das am Ende der Welt zu stehen schien. Die Stimmung Akakij Akakijewitschs schlug etwas um. Eine seltsame Angst bem\u00e4chtigte sich seiner, als er diesen weiten Platz betrat, und sein Herz empfand etwas wie drohendes Unheil. Er blickte nach allen Seiten und f\u00fchlte sich pl\u00f6tzlich wie auf dem Meere. Er beschlo\u00df, lieber gar nicht hinzuschauen und ging mit geschlossenen Augen weiter. Als er sie \u00f6ffnete, um festzustellen, wie weit es noch bis zum Ende des Platzes sei, erblickte er vor seiner Nase mehrere M\u00e4nner mit langen Schnurrb\u00e4rten. Es wurde ihm dunkel vor den Augen, und sein Herz begann zu zittern.\n\n\u00bbDer Mantel geh\u00f6rt mir!\u00ab schrie ihn einer der Unbekannten an, ihn am Kragen packend.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch wollte um Hilfe schreien, ein Mann hielt ihm aber seine Faust in der Gr\u00f6\u00dfe eines Beamtenkopfes vor die Nase und sagte:\n\n\u00bbVersuch nur zu schreien!\u00ab\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch f\u00fchlte noch, wie ihm der Mantel vom Leibe gerissen wurde und wie man ihm einen t\u00fcchtigen Fu\u00dftritt versetzte. Dann taumelte er, fiel in den Schnee und verlor das Bewu\u00dftsein. Als er nach einigen Minuten zu sich kam, war er wieder allein. Es war kalt, und der Mantel war fort. Er begann zu schreien; seine Stimme konnte aber nicht bis ans Ende des Platzes dringen. Er lief verzweifelt und schreiend auf das Schilderh\u00e4uschen zu. Der Wachsoldat erwartete ihn, auf seine Hellebarde gest\u00fctzt, voller Neugier; es interessierte ihn, warum dieser Mensch so rannte und schrie. Akakij Akakijewitsch fragte ihn mit keuchender Stimme, warum er auf seinem Posten schlafe und gem\u00fctlich zuschaue, wie ein Mensch ausgeraubt werde.\n\nDer Wachsoldat erkl\u00e4rte, nichts gesehen zu haben; er habe wohl gesehen, wie Akakij Akakijewitsch mitten auf dem Platze von zwei M\u00e4nnern gestellt worden sei, doch glaubte er, es seien seine Freunde gewesen; was aber den Mantel betr\u00e4fe, so m\u00f6chte er, statt zu schreien, sich lieber morgen zum Revieraufseher bem\u00fchen, dieser werde den Mantel und die Diebe schon ausfindig machen.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch erreichte endlich seine Wohnung in einem schrecklichen Zustand: die wenigen Haare, die er noch an den Schl\u00e4fen und im Nacken hatte, waren zerzaust, und seine ganze Kleidung war mit Schnee bedeckt. Die alte Wirtin eilte auf sein heftiges Pochen zur T\u00fcre, mit nur einem Schuh bekleidet und das Hemd vorne versch\u00e4mt mit der Hand zusammenhaltend. Sie sah Akakij Akakijewitschs Zustand und taumelte erschrocken zur\u00fcck. Als er ihr den Sachverhalt erkl\u00e4rt hatte, schlug sie die H\u00e4nde zusammen und meinte, er m\u00fcsse sich an den Polizeiinspektor wenden; der Revieraufseher w\u00fcrde ihn nur mit leeren Versprechungen abspeisen; mit dem Polizeiinspektor sei sie dagegen bekannt, denn ihre fr\u00fchere K\u00f6chin, die Finnin Anna, sei jetzt bei ihm als Kinderm\u00e4dchen angestellt; sie s\u00e4he ihn fast t\u00e4glich auf der Stra\u00dfe und jeden Sonntag in der Kirche \u2013 er sei also offenbar ein guter und ordentlicher Mensch. Akakij Akakijewitsch ging traurig zu Bett, und jedermann, der sich in eine fremde Lage versetzen kann, wird wohl begreifen, wie er diese Nacht zubrachte.\n\nAm n\u00e4chsten Morgen ging er ganz fr\u00fch zum Polizeiinspektor; man sagte ihm, dieser schlafe noch. Er kam um zehn wieder \u2013 der Polizeiinspektor schlief noch immer. Als er um elf kam \u2013 war der Inspektor ausgegangen. Schlie\u00dflich kam er um die Mittagszeit; die Schreiber wollten ihn nicht vorlassen und verlangten zu wissen, in welcher Angelegenheit er k\u00e4me. Akakij Akakijewitsch zeigte nun zum erstenmal in seinem Leben, da\u00df auch er energisch sein konnte, und erkl\u00e4rte, er m\u00fcsse den Polizeiinspektor unbedingt pers\u00f6nlich sprechen; es handle sich um eine wichtige amtliche Angelegenheit, und wenn sie ihn nicht vorlie\u00dfen, wolle er sich beschweren. Die Schreiber mu\u00dften nachgeben, und einer von ihnen holte den Polizeiinspektor. Dieser nahm die Erz\u00e4hlung Akakij Akakijewitschs h\u00f6chst sonderbar auf. Er zeigte wenig Interesse f\u00fcr seinen Mantel, begann ihn dagegen auszufragen, was er denn \u00fcberhaupt in der sp\u00e4ten Stunde auf der Stra\u00dfe zu suchen gehabt h\u00e4tte, und ob er nicht gar in einem verd\u00e4chtigen Hause gewesen sei. Diese Fragen machten ihn err\u00f6ten und er ging heim, ohne erfahren zu haben, ob der Polizeiinspektor in der Sache etwas zu unternehmen gedenke.\n\nAn diesem Tage ging er nicht ins Amt, was ihm zum erstenmal im Leben passierte. Am n\u00e4chsten Tag ging er aber doch hin, und zwar wieder in seinem alten Morgenrock, der noch trauriger aussah, als je. Einzelne Beamte rissen selbst bei dieser traurigen Geschichte ihre Witze; die meisten waren aber so ger\u00fchrt, da\u00df sie sogar eine Kollekte f\u00fcr einen neuen Mantel veranstalteten. Da die Beamtenschaft kurze Zeit vorher durch zwei andere Kollekten \u2013 f\u00fcr ein Bildnis des Direktors und f\u00fcr die Subskription auf ein Werk, das ein Freund des Direktors verfa\u00dft hatte, ausgepl\u00fcndert worden war, ergab diese Kollekte ein \u00fcberaus trauriges Resultat. Ein Kollege gab aber Akakij Akakijewitsch den Rat, er m\u00f6chte sich doch nicht an den Revieraufseher wenden: dieser w\u00fcrde das Gestohlene vielleicht wieder finden, um den Vorgesetzten seine T\u00fcchtigkeit zu beweisen, doch werde der Mantel in den H\u00e4nden der Polizei bleiben, es habe ja keiner einen gesetzlichen Beweis, da\u00df der Mantel ihm geh\u00f6re. Er m\u00f6chte sich doch an \u00bbeinen gewissen W\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab wenden, der bei seinen guten Beziehungen die Sache erfolgreicher durchf\u00fchren k\u00f6nne.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch entschlo\u00df sich also, jenen \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab aufzusuchen. Welches Amt diese Person bekleidete, ist auch heute noch nicht aufgekl\u00e4rt. Es mu\u00df bemerkt werden, da\u00df der \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab seine W\u00fcrde erst seit kurzem erhalten hatte; vorher hatte er gar keine. Das Amt, das diese Pers\u00f6nlichkeit bekleidete, war \u00fcbrigens gar nicht so hervorragend, denn es gibt noch viel h\u00f6here \u00c4mter. Manche Leute sind aber stets geneigt, auch das minder Bedeutende f\u00fcr sehr bedeutend zu halten. Der betreffende Beamte gab sich auch die gr\u00f6\u00dfte M\u00fche, den Anschein einer sehr bedeutenden Pers\u00f6nlichkeit zu erwecken; so hatte er verf\u00fcgt, da\u00df ihn die Untergebenen jeden Morgen unten an der Treppe erwarteten, und da\u00df niemand ohne Anmeldung vorgelassen werde. \u00dcberall mu\u00dfte die strengste Ordnung herrschen: der Kollegienregistrator hatte jedes Gesuch dem Gouvernementssekret\u00e4r vorzulegen, dieser meldete es dem Titularrat und so kam die Sache schlie\u00dflich auch in seine Hand. Es ist schon einmal so in unserem heiligen Ru\u00dfland, da\u00df jeder Beamte bestrebt ist, es seinen Vorgesetzten gleich zu tun. So hat einmal ein Titularrat, der zum Vorstand einer kleinen Kanzlei ernannt wurde, in seinem Amtslokal ein eigenes kleines K\u00e4mmerchen als \u00bbSitzungssaal\u00ab eingerichtet; an der T\u00fcr dieses Zimmers standen zwei gallonierte Diener mit roten Aufschl\u00e4gen, die wie Logenschlie\u00dfer aussahen und jeden Besucher zu melden hatten, obwohl der \u00bbSitzungssaal\u00ab so klein war, da\u00df in ihm ein gew\u00f6hnlicher Schreibtisch kaum Platz hatte.\n\nDer \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab waltete seines Amtes mit gro\u00dfer W\u00fcrde und Wichtigkeit. Das System beruhte in erster Linie auf Strenge. \u00bbStrenge, Strenge und \u2013 Strenge,\u00ab so pflegte er seinen Untergebenen immer einzusch\u00e4rfen; dies war aber ganz \u00fcberfl\u00fcssig, denn die wenigen Beamten, die er unter sich hatte, waren auch so gen\u00fcgend eingesch\u00fcchtert. Wenn er durch die Kanzlei ging, lie\u00dfen alle die Arbeit ruhen und sprangen ehrerbietig auf. Im Verkehr mit den Untergebenen gebrauchte er eigentlich nur folgende drei Redewendungen: \u00bbWie unterstehen Sie sich? Wissen Sie auch, mit wem Sie sprechen? Denken Sie daran, vor wem Sie stehen?\u00ab Im Grunde genommen war er sehr gutm\u00fctig, freundlich und liebensw\u00fcrdig, der Geheimratstitel hatte ihm aber ganz den Kopf verdreht. Wenn er mit Gleichgestellten verkehrte, gab er sich sehr einfach und nat\u00fcrlich und machte den Eindruck eines anst\u00e4ndigen und gescheiten Menschen. Kaum sah er aber einen Menschen vor sich, der im Dienstrange etwas unter ihm stand, so wurde er schweigsam und verschlossen und machte einen recht j\u00e4mmerlichen Eindruck. Er hatte oft Lust, an einem interessanten Gespr\u00e4ch teilzunehmen, aber gleich kam ihm der Gedanke: wird es meine W\u00fcrde nicht beeintr\u00e4chtigen, wenn ich mich so famili\u00e4r und herablassend zeige? Und so schwieg er meistens und galt daher f\u00fcr sehr langweilig.\n\nZu diesem \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab kam nun Akakij Akakijewitsch mit seinem Anliegen, und zwar in einem Augenblick, der f\u00fcr ihn h\u00f6chst ung\u00fcnstig war; dem W\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger kam der Besuch aber sehr gelegen. Er unterhielt sich gerade mit einem zugereisten Jugendfreund, den er seit Jahren nicht gesehen hatte, als ihm der Besuch eines gewissen Baschmatschkin gemeldet wurde.\n\n\u00bbWer ist's?\u00ab fragte er kurz.\n\n\u00bbEin Beamter.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSo! Der kann warten, ich habe jetzt keine Zeit.\u00ab\n\nIch mu\u00df bemerken, da\u00df der W\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger log, denn er hatte Zeit im \u00dcberflu\u00df. In der Unterhaltung mit dem Jugendfreund waren alle Gespr\u00e4chsstoffe l\u00e4ngst ersch\u00f6pft, und sie bestand nun darin, da\u00df sie sich abwechselnd auf die Schultern klopften und dazu sagten: \u00bbSo ist's, Iwan Abramowitsch\u00ab \u2013 \u00bbJa, ja, Stepan Warlamowitsch!\u00ab Er lie\u00df aber den Besuch warten, um den Freund, der seit Jahren auf dem Lande lebte und alle Herrlichkeiten des Staatsdienstes vergessen hatte, zu zeigen, wie die Beamten bei ihm antichambrieren m\u00fcssen. Endlich war diese Unterhaltung beendet, beide sa\u00dfen rauchend in h\u00f6chst bequemen Lehnsesseln, als dem Geheimrat pl\u00f6tzlich der vorhin gemeldete Besuch einfiel. Er sagte dem Sekret\u00e4r, der ihm Papiere zur Unterschrift gebracht hatte und in ehrerbietiger Haltung an der T\u00fcre stand:\n\n\u00bbIch glaube, dort wartet irgendein Beamter. Sagen Sie ihm, er m\u00f6chte eintreten.\u00ab\n\nAls der W\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger die kl\u00e4gliche Gestalt und die sch\u00e4bige Uniform des Akakij Akakijewitsch erblickte, herrschte er ihn br\u00fcsk an:\n\n\u00bbSie w\u00fcnschen?\u00ab\n\nDiesen br\u00fcsken Ton hatte er noch acht Tage vor seiner Ernennung zum Geheimrat vor einem Spiegel einge\u00fcbt.\n\nAkakij Akakijewitsch, der auch ohnehin ganz versch\u00fcchtert war, verlor nun ganz die Fassung. Er erz\u00e4hlte, so gut er konnte, seine gewohnten Partikel \u00f6fter als sonst gebrauchend, er h\u00e4tte einen ganz neuen Mantel gehabt, der nun gestohlen worden sei, und darum wende er sich an seine Exzellenz mit der Bitte, dem Polizeipr\u00e4sidenten \u00fcber die Sache zu schreiben und so bei der Suche nach dem Mantel behilflich zu sein. Diese Zumutung kam dem Geheimrat etwas bunt vor.\n\n\u00bbKennen Sie denn die Vorschriften nicht? Wo stehen Sie jetzt? Wissen Sie denn nicht, da\u00df die Gesuche an die Kanzlei zu richten sind, wo sie vom Kanzleivorstand entgegengenommen werden, der sie dem Abteilungsvorstand vorlegt, und dann erst vom Sekret\u00e4r mir \u00fcberbracht werden?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbEw. Exzellenz,\u00ab stotterte Akakij Akakijewitsch mit dem Aufwand seiner ganzen Geistesgegenwart und aus allen Poren schwitzend, \u00bbich wagte es, mich direkt an Ew. Exzellenz zu wenden, weil auf die Sekret\u00e4re \u2013 sozusagen kein Verla\u00df ist...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas?\u00ab schrie der Geheimrat auf. \u00bbWo haben Sie sich mit solchem Geiste angesteckt? Wo haben Sie diese Ideen her? Wie unterstehen Sie sich, als junger Beamter hier solche Reden zu f\u00fchren?\u00ab\n\nDer \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab schien gar nicht zu bemerken, da\u00df Akakij Akakijewitsch hoch in den F\u00fcnfzigern stand und h\u00f6chstens noch im Vergleich zu ihm selbst, der etwa siebzig Jahre alt war, \u00bbjung\u00ab genannt werden konnte.\n\n\u00bbWissen Sie auch, mit wem Sie reden? Begreifen Sie, wen Sie vor sich haben? Begreifen Sie es? Ich frage Sie, ob Sie es begreifen?\u00ab\n\nEr stampfte mit dem Fu\u00dfe und schrie so laut, da\u00df auch jeder andere Mensch an der Stelle des Akakij Akakijewitsch erschrokken w\u00e4re. Auf Akakij Akakijewitsch machte dieser Auftritt aber einen solchen Eindruck, da\u00df er am ganzen Leibe bebte und taumelte; wenn ihn zwei herbeigeeilte Diener nicht gest\u00fctzt h\u00e4tten, w\u00e4re er zu Boden gefallen. Der \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab war mit dem erzielten Effekt, der alle seine Erwartungen \u00fcbertraf, sehr zufrieden; er warf einen Seitenblick auf den Freund, um zu sehen, welchen Eindruck dieser von der gro\u00dfartigen Szene hatte und stellte mit Genugtuung fest, da\u00df auch dieser verdutzt und sogar etwas erschrocken war.\n\nWie Akakij Akakijewitsch die Treppe herunterkam und wie er auf die Stra\u00dfe gelangte \u2013 das konnte er sp\u00e4ter selbst nicht begreifen; eine solche R\u00fcge hatte er noch nie im Leben bekommen, und noch dazu von einem Geheimrat eines fremden Ressorts. Er ging mit offenem Mund und taumelnd durch den Schneesturm, der drau\u00dfen w\u00fctete, ohne auf den Weg zu achten. Der kalte Wind wehte ihn nach Petersburger Art von allen vier Seiten zugleich an. Er bekam auch sofort eine Halsentz\u00fcndung, und als er endlich zu Hause anlangte und sich ins Bett legte, hatte er bereits die Sprache verloren. Solche Wirkungen kann manchmal eine t\u00fcchtige R\u00fcge haben!\n\nAm n\u00e4chsten Tage hatte er hohes Fieber. Mit der gro\u00dfm\u00fctigen Unterst\u00fctzung des Petersburger Klimas entwickelte sich die Krankheit rapider, als man erwarten konnte. Der herbeigerufene Arzt betastete seinen Puls und verschrieb ihm hei\u00dfe Umschl\u00e4ge, damit dem Kranken wenigstens etwas von den Wohltaten der Medizin zuteil werde; zugleich erkl\u00e4rte er ihm, er habe h\u00f6chstens zwei Tage zu leben. Der Wirtin sagte er aber:\n\n\u00bbVerlieren Sie keine Zeit und bestellen Sie gleich einen Fichtensarg; ein Eichensarg wird wohl zu teuer kommen.\u00ab\n\nOb Akakij Akakijewitsch diese Worte geh\u00f6rt hatte, und, wenn er sie geh\u00f6rt hatte, ob sie auf ihn einen Eindruck machten, ob es ihm da um sein armseliges Leben leid tat \u2013 wei\u00df kein Mensch, denn er hatte hohes Fieber und phantasierte. Seltsame Gesichte verfolgten ihn unaufh\u00f6rlich. Er sah den Schneider Petrowitsch, bei dem er einen neuen Mantel mit Fangeisen f\u00fcr die Diebe bestellte; er glaubte sich von Dieben umgeben, und er flehte die Wirtin an, sie m\u00f6chte doch einen Dieb, der sich zu ihm unter die Decke geschlichen h\u00e4tte, herausziehen; er fragte, warum der alte Morgenrock vor ihm h\u00e4nge, da er doch einen neuen Mantel habe; zuweilen kam es ihm vor, als stehe er noch immer vor dem Geheimrat, der ihm eine R\u00fcge erteilte, und da wiederholte er immer: \u00bbIch bitte Ew. Exzellenz um Vergebung!\u00ab Dann schimpfte er wieder in so unfl\u00e4tigen Ausdr\u00fccken, da\u00df die alte Wirtin, die von ihm noch nie derartige Worte vernommen hatte, sich erschrocken bekreuzigte, um so mehr, weil diese Ausdr\u00fccke immer der Anrede \u00bbEw. Exzellenz\u00ab folgten. Dann redete er ganz unsinniges Zeug; das einzige, was man daraus verstehen konnte, war, da\u00df seine Gedanken sich immer um den Mantel drehten. Schlie\u00dflich gab der arme Akakij Akakijewitsch seinen Geist auf.\n\nSein Zimmer wurde nicht versiegelt und von seinem Nachla\u00df wurde keine Inventur aufgenommen: erstens hatte er keine Erben und zweitens bestand der ganze Nachla\u00df aus einem B\u00fcndel G\u00e4nsefedern, einem Buch wei\u00dfen Kanzleipapiers, drei Paar Socken, einigen Hosenkn\u00f6pfen und dem alten Morgenrock, den der Leser schon kennt. Wem diese Gegenst\u00e4nde zufielen, ist unbekannt; ich habe mich daf\u00fcr nicht interessiert. Akakij Akakijewitsch wurde begraben, und Petersburg schien ihn gar nicht zu vermissen. So verschwand ein Wesen, da\u00df ganz schutzlos war, dem niemand eine Tr\u00e4ne nachweinte und f\u00fcr das sich niemand interessierte, selbst die Naturforscher nicht, die auch eine gew\u00f6hnliche Fliege einfangen, um sie mit dem Mikroskop zu betrachten; ein Gesch\u00f6pf, das jeden Spott voller Demut \u00fcber sich ergehen lie\u00df, das so mir nichts dir nichts zugrunde ging, das aber vor seinem Lebensende einen lichten Gast empfangen hatte \u2013 in Gestalt des Mantels, der sein armseliges Leben f\u00fcr einen Augenblick mit hellem Glanz erf\u00fcllte \u2013 und das schlie\u00dflich vom Ungl\u00fcck zermalmt wurde, das auch die M\u00e4chtigen der Erde nicht verschont.\n\nEinige Tage nach seinem Tode kam ein Bureaudiener in seine Wohnung mit dem Befehl, er m\u00f6chte doch sofort ins Amt kommen: der Herr Amtsvorstand brauche ihn. Der Bote kehrte aber unverrichteter Dinge zur\u00fcck und richtete aus, Akakij Akakijewitsch werde nicht mehr kommen. Auf die Frage \u00bbWarum?\u00ab sagte er:\n\n\u00bbEr ist gestorben. Vor vier Tagen war die Beerdigung.\u00ab Auf diese Weise erfuhr man in der Ministerialabteilung von seinem Hinscheiden; am n\u00e4chsten Tage sa\u00df auf seinem Platz ein neuer Beamter, der viel gr\u00f6\u00dfer war als der Verstorbene und der die Buchstaben nicht so steil, sondern viel schr\u00e4ger setzte.\n\nWer h\u00e4tte sich gedacht, da\u00df die Geschichte von Akakij Akakijewitsch noch nicht zu Ende ist, und da\u00df es ihm verg\u00f6nnt war, noch einige Tage nach seinem Tode Aufsehen zu erregen, wohl als Entgelt f\u00fcr sein unbemerkt gebliebenes Leben? So war es in der Tat, und hier nimmt unsere traurige Geschichte eine phantastische Wendung.\n\nIn Petersburg verbreitete sich das Ger\u00fccht, in der Gegend der Kalinkinbr\u00fccke treibe sich jede Nacht ein Gespenst in einer Beamtenuniform herum, das einen ihm gestohlenen Mantel suche und unter diesem Vorwande allen Passanten, ohne Ansehen der Person, die M\u00e4ntel herunterrei\u00dfe: M\u00e4ntel mit Watte, mit Katzen-, Biber-, Fuchs-, B\u00e4ren- und Nerzfell, kurz, mit allen Fellen und H\u00e4uten, mit denen die Menschen die eigene Haut bedekken. Ein Ministerialbeamter hatte das Gespenst mit eigenen Augen gesehen und in ihm den verstorbenen Akakij Akakijewitsch erkannt; er bekam solche Angst, da\u00df er wie verr\u00fcckt davonlief und nur noch sah, wie ihm das Gespenst mit dem Finger drohte. Unausgesetzt liefen Klagen, nicht nur von Titular-, sondern auch von Hofr\u00e4ten ein, das Gespenst habe ihnen den Mantel abgenommen und sie h\u00e4tten sich dadurch bedenkliche Erk\u00e4ltungen zugezogen.\n\nAn die Polizei erging der Befehl, den Toten tot oder lebendig einzufangen und exemplarisch zu bestrafen. Es w\u00e4re ihr auch beinahe gegl\u00fcckt: in der Kirjuschkingasse erwischte ein Wachsoldat den Toten gerade in dem Augenblick, als dieser im Begriff war, einem ausgedienten Musikanten, der vor Jahren Fl\u00f6te geblasen hatte, seinen Friesmantel wegzunehmen. Er hatte das Gespenst am Kragen gepackt und der Obhut zweier herbeigerufener Kameraden \u00fcbergeben; er selbst holte seine Tabaksdose hervor, um seine Nase, die schon sechsmal eingefroren war, mit einer Prise zu beleben. Der Tabak war wohl auch f\u00fcr einen Toten zu stark, denn kaum hatte sich der Wachsoldat ein Quantum Tabak in die Nase gestopft, als das Gespenst so heftig zu niesen begann, da\u00df alle drei die Augen schlie\u00dfen mu\u00dften. W\u00e4hrend sich die Soldaten die Augen rieben, war das Gespenst spurlos verschwunden, und sie zweifelten sp\u00e4ter, ob sie es \u00fcberhaupt in den H\u00e4nden gehabt hatten. Von nun an bekamen alle Wachsoldaten solche Angst vor Toten, da\u00df sie selbst lebende Verbrecher zu verhaften f\u00fcrchteten und ihnen nur von weitem zuriefen: \u00bbNa, du!! Mach, da\u00df du weiterkommst!\u00ab Das Gespenst des toten Beamten wurde infolgedessen ganz frech und zeigte sich zuweilen auch diesseits der Kalinkinbr\u00fccke.\n\nNun wollen wir zu dem \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab zur\u00fcckkehren, der eigentlich den phantastischen Verlauf unserer, \u00fcbrigens h\u00f6chst wahrhaften Geschichte verursacht hatte. Zur Steuer der Wahrheit sei hier festgestellt, da\u00df er bald nach dem Auftritt mit Akakij Akakijewitsch etwas wie Mitleid versp\u00fcrte. Denn Mitgef\u00fchl war diesem Beamten nicht fremd, und nur sein hoher Rang hinderte ihn, seine Herzensregungen zum Durchbruch kommen zu lassen. Sobald der zugereiste Freund gegangen war, fiel ihm wieder der Titularrat ein. Dann verfolgte ihn fast t\u00e4glich das Bild des bleichen Akakij Akakijewitsch, f\u00fcr den die R\u00fcge so traurige Folgen gehabt hatte. Endlich entschlo\u00df er sich, einen seiner Beamten hinzuschicken, um zu erfahren, wie es ihm gehe und ob ihm nicht irgendwie zu helfen w\u00e4re. Als er nun erfuhr, da\u00df Akakij Akakijewitsch ganz pl\u00f6tzlich gestorben war, f\u00fchlte er Gewissensbisse und war auch dann den ganzen Tag schlechter Laune.\n\nUm diese Laune zu vertreiben und sich etwas zu zerstreuen, begab er sich abends zu einem seiner Freunde, wo er eine sehr angenehme Gesellschaft antraf: Lauter Herren des gleichen Dienstranges wie er, so da\u00df er sich ganz ungezwungen benehmen konnte. Dies \u00fcbte auf ihn einen wunderbaren Einflu\u00df: er wurde gespr\u00e4chig und liebensw\u00fcrdig und verbrachte den ganzen Abend in der besten Stimmung. Beim Souper trank er zwei Glas Champagner, der bekanntlich recht g\u00fcnstig auf die Stimmung wirkt. Der Champagner weckte in ihm die Lust zu einigen Extravaganzen: er beschlo\u00df n\u00e4mlich, nach dem Souper nicht gleich nach Hause zur\u00fcckzukehren, sondern eine Dame, mit der er recht intim befreundet war, zu besuchen; sie hie\u00df Karolina Iwanowna und war, wenn ich nicht irre, deutscher Herkunft. Der \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab war \u00fcbrigens nicht mehr jung, und galt als musterhafter Gatte und Familienvater. Zwei S\u00f6hne, von denen der eine bereits im Staatsdienst war, und eine sechzehnj\u00e4hrige Tochter mit einem etwas gebogenen, aber h\u00fcbschen N\u00e4schen k\u00fc\u00dften ihm jeden Morgen die Hand mit dem Gru\u00dfe: _\u00bbBon jour, Papa!\u00ab_ Seine Gattin, eine gut konservierte und stattliche Dame, lie\u00df ihn zuerst ihre Hand k\u00fcssen und k\u00fc\u00dfte dann die seinige.\n\nEr war also in seinem Familienleben recht gl\u00fccklich, und doch pflegte er freundschaftlichen Verkehr mit einer Dame, die in einem andern Stadtteil wohnte und die weder sch\u00f6ner noch j\u00fcnger war als seine Frau; solche R\u00e4tsel kommen alle Tage vor, und wir wollen sie hier nicht n\u00e4her untersuchen.\n\nDer \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab ging die Treppe hinunter, setzte sich in seinen Schlitten und befahl dem Kutscher: \u00bbZu Karolina Iwanowna!\u00ab In seinen warmen Pelzmantel geh\u00fcllt, befand er sich in jenem gl\u00fcckseligen Zustand, den der Russe so sehr liebt: man denkt an nichts, und die angenehmsten Gedanken kommen einem ganz von selbst in den Kopf, so da\u00df man ihnen gar nicht nachzulaufen braucht. Er dachte an den so vergn\u00fcgt verbrachten Abend und an alle guten Witze, die da aufgetischt wurden; er wiederholte sie jetzt leise vor sich hin und fand sie noch immer so gelungen und wirkungsvoll wie vorhin. Zuweilen wurde er durch den h\u00f6chst l\u00e4stigen Wind abgelenkt, der ohne ersichtlichen Grund von irgendwo kam, ihn mit Schnee \u00fcbersch\u00fcttete, schmerzhaft ins Gesicht zwickte und den Pelzkragen wie ein Segel aufbl\u00e4hte, so da\u00df er mit ihm ordentlich zu k\u00e4mpfen hatte.\n\nPl\u00f6tzlich f\u00fchlte sich der \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab am Kragen gepackt. Als er sich umwandte, erblickte er einen \u00e4lteren Beamten, in dem er zu seiner Best\u00fcrzung Akakij Akakijewitsch erkannte. Das Gesicht des Beamten war leichenbla\u00df. Der Schreck des W\u00fcrdentr\u00e4gers steigerte sich aber ins Grenzenlose, als der Tote den Mund, dem der kalte Hauch des Grabes entstr\u00f6mte, \u00f6ffnete und die Worte sprach:\n\n\u00bbDa bist du ja! Endlich hab' ich dich beim Kragen erwischt! Deinen Mantel suche ich ja eben. Du wolltest dich nicht meines Mantels annehmen und hast mir noch obendrein eine R\u00fcge erteilt, jetzt wirst du mir daf\u00fcr den deinigen hergeben!\u00ab\n\nDer arme \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab war halbtot. Er, der in seiner Kanzlei vor seinen Untergebenen so energisch aufzutreten verstand, war jetzt so au\u00dfer sich vor Schreck, da\u00df er einen Ohnmachtsanfall bef\u00fcrchtete; so geht es \u00fcbrigens in ernsten Augenblicken vielen, die sonst ein imposantes Auftreten haben. Er zog sich selbst den Mantel von seinen Schultern und schrie dem Kutscher mit wilder Stimme zu: \u00bbRasch nach Hause!\u00ab Als der Kutscher diesen Ton h\u00f6rte, der gew\u00f6hnlich von noch wirksameren Ausbr\u00fcchen begleitet war, duckte er sich und schlug w\u00fctend auf die Pferde ein. In sechs Minuten hielt der Schlitten vor dem Hause. So kam der \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger\u00ab bleich, erschrocken und seines Mantels beraubt, statt zur Karolina Iwanowna \u2013 nach Hause. Er ging sofort in sein Zimmer, wo er eine ganz schreckliche Nacht verbrachte. Am n\u00e4chsten Morgen sah er so schlecht aus, da\u00df seine Tochter ihm beim Morgengru\u00df sagte:\n\n\u00bbDu bist ja heute ganz bla\u00df, Papa!\u00ab\n\nDer Papa erwiderte aber darauf gar nichts und erz\u00e4hlte auch kein Wort davon, wo er die letzte Nacht gewesen war und was er noch vorgehabt hatte. Dieser Vorfall machte auf ihn einen starken Eindruck. Seine Untergebenen bekamen jetzt viel seltener die Worte: \u00bbWie unterstehen Sie sich? Wissen Sie, mit wem Sie reden?\u00ab zu h\u00f6ren; wenn er diese Worte auch noch zuweilen gebrauchte, so doch erst immer nach Anh\u00f6rung der Sache.\n\nDas Merkw\u00fcrdigste aber war, da\u00df das Gespenst von jenem Tage an sich nicht mehr sehen lie\u00df: der Mantel des \u00bbW\u00fcrdentr\u00e4gers\u00ab schien ihm ausgezeichnet zu passen. Wenigstens h\u00f6rte man nichts mehr von neuen Manteldiebst\u00e4hlen. Viele Leute konnten sich aber noch immer nicht beruhigen und behaupteten, das Gespenst tauche noch immer hier und da in den entlegeneren Stadtbezirken auf. Ein Wachsoldat aus der Kolomnavorstadt hatte das Gespenst des toten Titularrats auch wirklich noch einmal gesehen. Dieser Soldat war von Natur etwas schw\u00e4chlich, so da\u00df ihn einmal ein junges Schwein, das ihm unter die F\u00fc\u00dfe lief, zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Gaudium der Droschkenkutscher zum Fallen brachte; sie mu\u00dften ihm auch sp\u00e4ter daf\u00fcr, da\u00df sie \u00fcber ihn gelacht hatten, je eine halbe Kopeke Entsch\u00e4digung zahlen. Dieser Wachsoldat war also so schwach, da\u00df er sich nicht traute, das Gespenst zu stellen. Er verfolgte es nur schweigend durch die finsteren Stra\u00dfen, bis es sich umwandte und fragte: \u00bbWas willst du denn?\u00ab wobei es ihm eine so m\u00e4chtige Faust zeigte, wie sie auch bei lebenden Menschen nicht oft vorkommt. Der Wachsoldat murmelte: \u00bbGar nichts...\u00ab und machte sofort kehrt. Das Gespenst war aber viel gr\u00f6\u00dfer gewachsen, als es Akakij Akakijewitsch bei Lebzeiten war, und hatte einen m\u00e4chtigen Schnurrbart. Es schlug anscheinend die Richtung zur Obuchowschen Br\u00fccke ein und verschwand in der Nacht.\n\n* Baschmak (russ.) = Schuh\n\n## DER NEWSKIJ-PROSPEKT\n\nEs gibt nichts sch\u00f6neres als den Newskij-Prospekt, wenigstens in Petersburg nicht: f\u00fcr Petersburg bedeutet er alles. Welcher Glanz fehlt noch dieser sch\u00f6nsten Stra\u00dfe unserer Hauptstadt? Ich wei\u00df, da\u00df keiner von den blassen und beamteten Einwohnern Petersburgs diese Stra\u00dfe gegen alle Kostbarkeiten der Welt eintauschen w\u00fcrde. Nicht nur der F\u00fcnfundzwanzigj\u00e4hrige, der einen wundervollen Schnurrbart und einen prachtvoll gen\u00e4hten Rock besitzt, sondern auch der, auf dessen Kinn wei\u00dfe Stoppeln sprie\u00dfen und dessen Kopf so kahl ist, wie ein silbernes Tablett, ist vom Newskij-Prospekt entz\u00fcckt. Und erst die Damen! Oh, den Damen ist der Newskij-Prospekt noch angenehmer! Und wem ist er nicht angenehm? Kaum hat man den Newskij-Prospekt betreten, so atmet man nichts als m\u00fc\u00dfiges Herumschlendern. Wenn man sogar ein wichtiges, unaufschiebbares Gesch\u00e4ft vor hat, so vergi\u00dft man es, sobald man auf dem Newskij ist. Dies ist der einzige Ort, wo die Menschen nicht von irgendeiner Notwendigkeit getrieben erscheinen, nicht vom Gesch\u00e4ftsinteresse, von dem das ganze Petersburg ergriffen ist. Der Mensch, dem man auf dem Newskij-Prospekt begegnet, scheint weniger Egoist zu sein, als einer, den man in der Morskaja-, Sorochowaja-, Litejnaja-, Mjeschtschanskaja- und in jeder anderen Stra\u00dfe trifft, wo Gier und Habsucht auf allen Gesichtern ausgepr\u00e4gt sind, die vorbeigehen und in Equipagen und in Droschken vorbeijagen. Der Newskij-Prospekt ist die wichtigste Verkehrsader von ganz Petersburg. Ein Bewohner des Petersburger oder des Wyborger Stadtteils, der seinen Freund, welcher im Peski-Stadtteil oder am Moskauer Tor wohnt, schon seit mehreren Jahren nicht besucht hat, kann sicher darauf rechnen, da\u00df er ihm auf dem Newskij-Prospekt begegnet. Kein Adre\u00dfbuch und keine Auskunftsstelle k\u00f6nnen so zuverl\u00e4ssige Nachrichten geben wie der Newskij-Prospekt. Der Newskij-Prospekt ist allm\u00e4chtig! Er ist die einzige Zerstreuung f\u00fcr das an Spazierg\u00e4ngen so arme Petersburg! Wie sauber sind seine B\u00fcrgersteige gekehrt, und, mein Gott, wieviel F\u00fc\u00dfe hinterlassen auf ihm ihre Spuren! Der plumpe schmutzige Stiefel des gedienten Soldaten, unter dem selbst das Granitpflaster zu bersten scheint, das winzige, wie Rauch leichte Sch\u00fchchen der jungen Dame, die ihr K\u00f6pfchen den gl\u00e4nzenden Schaufenstern zuwendet, wie die Sonnenblume der Sonne, der rasselnde S\u00e4bel des von Hoffnungen erf\u00fcllten F\u00e4hnrichs, der in ihn eine scharfe Spur kratzt, \u2013 alles l\u00e4\u00dft ihn die Macht der Kraft und die Macht der Schw\u00e4che f\u00fchlen. Wie schnell wechseln hier die phantastischen Bilder im Laufe eines einzigen Tages ab! Wieviel Ver\u00e4nderungen mu\u00df er in vierundzwanzig Stunden erleiden!\n\nFangen wir mit dem fr\u00fchen Morgen an, wo ganz Petersburg nach hei\u00dfen, frischgebackenen Broten riecht und von alten Weibern in zerrissenen Kleidern und M\u00e4nteln wimmelt, die die Kirchen und die mitleidigen Passanten \u00fcberfallen. Um diese Stunde ist der Newskij-Prospekt leer: die dicken Ladenbesitzer und ihre Kommis schlafen noch in ihren holl\u00e4ndischen Hemden, oder seifen sich ihre edlen Wangen ein, oder trinken Kaffee; die Bettler versammeln sich vor den T\u00fcren der Konditorei, wo der verschlafene Ganymed, der gestern mit den Tassen Schokolade wie eine Fliege herumgeflogen ist, ohne Halsbinde, mit einem Besen in der Hand erscheint und ihnen ausgetrocknete Kuchen- und Speisereste hinwirft. Durch die Stra\u00dfen zieht arbeitendes Volk; manchmal sieht man hier auch einfache russische Bauern, die in kalkbeschmierten Stiefeln, die selbst der Katharinenkanal, der wegen seiner Sauberkeit ber\u00fchmt ist, nicht abwaschen k\u00f6nnte, zur Arbeit eilen. Um diese Stunde sollen sich Damen hier lieber nicht zeigen, denn das russische Volk wendet gerne so kr\u00e4ftige Ausdr\u00fccke an, die sie wohl auch nicht im Theater zu h\u00f6ren bekommen. Manchmal sieht man hier auch einen verschlafenen Beamten mit einer Aktentasche unter dem Arm, den der Weg nach seinem Departement zuf\u00e4llig \u00fcber den Newskij f\u00fchrt. Man kann mit Bestimmtheit sagen, da\u00df um diese Tageszeit, d.h. bis zur Mittagsstunde, der Newskij-Prospekt f\u00fcr niemand ein Ziel bildet; er ist f\u00fcr alle nur ein Mittel: er f\u00fcllt sich allm\u00e4hlich mit Menschen, die ihre Besch\u00e4ftigungen, ihre Sorgen und ihren \u00c4rger haben und an ihn gar nicht denken. Der russische Bauer spricht von zehn Kopeken oder von sieben Kupfergroschen, die alten M\u00e4nner und Frauen schwingen die Arme oder sprechen mit sich selbst, manchmal mit recht ausdrucksvollen Geb\u00e4rden, aber niemand h\u00f6rt ihnen zu und niemand lacht \u00fcber sie, h\u00f6chstens einige Jungen in bunten Hausr\u00f6cken, die mit leeren Schnapsflaschen oder fertigen Stiefeln in den H\u00e4nden wie der Blitz \u00fcber den Newskij-Prospekt schie\u00dfen. Um diese Zeit darf man nach Belieben gekleidet sein, \u2013 wenn man sogar statt eines Hutes eine Tellerm\u00fctze auf hat, auch wenn der Kragen zu weit aus der Halsbinde hervorsteht, \u2013 niemand wird es merken.\n\nUm 12 Uhr wird der Newskij-Prospekt von den Hofmeistern aller Rationen mit ihren Z\u00f6glingen in Batistkragen \u00fcberfallen. Die englischen Johns und die franz\u00f6sischen Coqs gehen Arm in Arm mit den ihrer v\u00e4terlichen Obhut anvertrauten Z\u00f6glingen und erkl\u00e4ren ihnen mit geb\u00fchrender W\u00fcrde, da\u00df die Schilder \u00fcber den Kaufl\u00e4den zu dem Zwecke angebracht seien, damit man erfahren k\u00f6nne, was in den Kaufl\u00e4den selbst vorhanden sei. Die Gouvernanten, die blassen Misses und die rosigen Mademoiselles schreiten majest\u00e4tisch hinter den leichtbeschwingten, koketten kleinen M\u00e4dchen einher und befehlen ihnen, die linke Schulter etwas h\u00f6her zu ziehen und sich besser zu halten; kurz, der Newskij-Prospekt ist um diese Stunde ein p\u00e4dagogischer Newskij-Prospekt. Aber gegen 2 Uhr nimmt die Zahl der Gouvernanten, der P\u00e4dagogen und der Kinder ab; sie werden allm\u00e4hlich von den z\u00e4rtlichen V\u00e4tern der letzteren verdr\u00e4ngt, die Arm in Arm mit ihren buntgekleideten, nervenschwachen Lebensgef\u00e4hrtinnen gehen. Allm\u00e4hlich gesellen sich zu ihnen alle, die mit ihren wichtigen h\u00e4uslichen Angelegenheiten fertig geworden sind: sie haben mit ihrem Hausarzt \u00fcber das Wetter und \u00fcber den kleinen Pickel gesprochen, der sich auf der Nase gebildet hat, haben sich nach dem Befinden ihrer Pferde und ihrer Kinder, die \u00fcbrigens gute F\u00e4higkeiten an den Tag legen, erkundigt, haben den Theaterzettel und eine wichtige Meldung in der Zeitung \u00fcber die neueingetroffenen und die abgereisten Personen gelesen und schlie\u00dflich eine Tasse Kaffee oder Tee getrunken; zu ihnen gesellen sich diejenigen, denen das beneidenswerte Los zugefallen ist, den gesegneten Posten eines Beamten f\u00fcr besondere Auftr\u00e4ge zu bekleiden. Zu ihnen gesellen sich auch diejenigen, die im Ausw\u00e4rtigen Amte dienen und sich durch ihre vornehmen Besch\u00e4ftigungen und Angewohnheiten auszeichnen. Mein Gott, was gibt es doch f\u00fcr sch\u00f6ne \u00c4mter und Posten! Wie erheben und erquicken sie das Herz! Ich aber stehe leider nicht im Staatsdienste und bin des Vergn\u00fcgens beraubt, die feine, edle Behandlung durch die Vorgesetzten zu f\u00fchlen. Alles, was Sie auf dem Newskij-Prospekt sehen, ist von Wohlanst\u00e4ndigkeit erf\u00fcllt: Die Herren tragen lange R\u00f6cke und halten die H\u00e4nde in den r\u00fcckw\u00e4rtigen Taschen, die Damen \u2013 rosa, wei\u00dfe und bla\u00dfblaue Atlasm\u00e4ntel und elegante H\u00fcte. Hier k\u00f6nnen Sie Backenb\u00e4rte sehen, die einzigen Backenb\u00e4rte, die mit ungew\u00f6hnlicher und erstaunlicher Kunst hinter die Halsbinden gek\u00e4mmt sind, samtweiche, atlassene Backenb\u00e4rte, schwarz wie Zobel oder wie Kohle, die aber leider nur das Privileg des Ausw\u00e4rtigen Amtes allein bilden. Den Beamten der anderen Departements hat die Vorsehung die schwarzen Backenb\u00e4rte versagt; sie m\u00fcssen zu ihrem gr\u00f6\u00dften \u00c4rger r\u00f6tliche Backenb\u00e4rte tragen. Hier sehen Sie Schnurrb\u00e4rte, so herrlich, wie man sie mit keiner Feder beschreiben, mit keinem Pinsel darstellen kann; Schnurrb\u00e4rte, denen die bessere H\u00e4lfte des Lebens geweiht ist, die den Gegenstand der gr\u00f6\u00dften Sorgfalt bei Tag und bei Nacht bilden; Schnurrb\u00e4rte, mit den herrlichsten Parf\u00fcms begossen, mit den kostbarsten und seltensten Pomaden gesalbt; Schnurrb\u00e4rte, die f\u00fcr die Nacht in das feinste Velinpapier gewikkelt werden; Schnurrb\u00e4rte, die von der r\u00fchrendsten Anh\u00e4nglichkeit ihrer Besitzer betraut werden und auf die alle Vor\u00fcbergehenden neidisch sind. Tausende Sorten von bunten, leichten H\u00fcten, Kleidern, T\u00fcchern, an denen ihre Besitzerinnen zuweilen ganze zwei Tage lang h\u00e4ngen, blenden jeden der durch den Newskij-Prospekt geht. Es ist, als h\u00e4tte sich eine ganze Wolke von Schmetterlingen pl\u00f6tzlich von den Blumenstengeln erhoben und schw\u00e4rme \u00fcber den schwarzen K\u00e4fern des m\u00e4nnlichen Geschlechts. Hier kann man solchen Taillen begegnen, wie man sie nicht mal im Traume gesehen hat: es sind feine, d\u00fcnne Taillen, nicht st\u00e4rker als ein Flaschenhals, \u2013 wenn man ihnen begegnet, tritt man respektvoll auf die Seite, um sie nicht irgendwie unvorsichtig mit dem unh\u00f6flichen Ellenbogen anzusto\u00dfen; Angst und Scheu \u00fcbermannen einen, da\u00df man nicht mit einem unvorsichtigen Atemzug dieses herrliche Produkt der Natur und der Kunst zerbreche. Und was f\u00fcr Damen\u00e4rmeln kann man auf dem Newskij-Prospekt begegnen! Ach, diese Herrlichkeit! Sie haben einige \u00c4hnlichkeit mit zwei Luftballons, so da\u00df die Dame pl\u00f6tzlich in die Luft steigen k\u00f6nnte, wenn der Herr sie nicht festhielte; denn es ist ebenso leicht und angenehm, eine Dame in die H\u00f6he zu heben, wie ein mit Champagner gef\u00fclltes Glas an die Lippen zu f\u00fchren. Nirgends begr\u00fc\u00dft man sich bei einer Begegnung so vornehm und so ungezwungen wie auf dem Newskij-Prospekt. Hier kann man das einzige L\u00e4cheln sehen, das L\u00e4cheln, das der Gipfel der Kunst ist, ein L\u00e4cheln, vor dem man zuweilen vor Vergn\u00fcgen schmelzen kann, vor dem man sich pl\u00f6tzlich so winzig wie ein Grashalm f\u00fchlt und die Augen niederschl\u00e4gt, zuweilen aber auch ein L\u00e4cheln, vor dem man sich h\u00f6her als die Spitze des Admiralit\u00e4tsturmes d\u00fcnkt und den Kopf hebt. Hier begegnet man Menschen, die \u00fcber ein Konzert oder \u00fcber das Wetter mit ungew\u00f6hnlichem Anstand und einem ungew\u00f6hnlichen Gef\u00fchl f\u00fcr eigene W\u00fcrde sprechen. Hier begegnet man Tausenden von unfa\u00dfbaren Charakteren und Erscheinungen. Du lieber Gott, was f\u00fcr seltsame Charaktere trifft man auf dem Newskij-Prospekt! Es gibt hier eine Menge solcher Menschen, die bei einer Begegnung mit Ihnen unbedingt auf Ihre Stiefel schauen, und, wenn Sie vorbeigegangen sind, sich umwenden, um sich Ihre Rockfalten anzusehen. Ich kann bis jetzt nicht begreifen, woher das kommt. Ich hatte anfangs geglaubt, es seien lauter Schuhmacher, aber das entspricht durchaus nicht den Tatsachen: sie sind zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil an allerlei Departements angestellt, viele von ihnen sind imstande, ein amtliches Schreiben von einer Amtsstelle an eine andere bestens abzufassen; oder es sind Menschen, die sich mit Spazierengehen und mit dem Lesen von Zeitungen in Konditoreien besch\u00e4ftigen, \u2013 mit einem Worte, es sind zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil anst\u00e4ndige Menschen. In dieser gesegneten Zeit zwischen 2 und 3 Uhr nachmittags, die man die Zeit der Bewegung der ganzen Hauptstadt nennen kann, findet die Hauptausstellung der besten menschlichen Erzeugnisse statt: der eine zeigt einen eleganten \u00dcberrock mit dem sch\u00f6nsten Biberkragen; der andere eine herrliche griechische Nase; der dritte tr\u00e4gt einen wunderbaren Backenbart zur Schau; die vierte ein Paar sch\u00f6ne Augen und einen wunderbaren Hut; der f\u00fcnfte \u2013 einen Ring mit einem Talisman auf dem gepflegten kleinen Finger; die sechste \u2013 ein F\u00fc\u00dfchen in einem entz\u00fcckenden Schuh; der siebente \u2013 eine staunenswerte Krawatte; der achte \u2013 einen verbl\u00fcffenden Schnurrbart. Aber es schl\u00e4gt drei, die Ausstellung ist zu Ende, die Menge verzieht sich... Um 3 Uhr ist eine neue Ver\u00e4nderung. Auf dem Newskij-Prospekt bricht pl\u00f6tzlich der Fr\u00fchling an: er wimmelt auf einmal ganz von Beamten in gr\u00fcnen Uniformr\u00f6cken. Die hungrigen Titular-, Hof- und sonstigen R\u00e4te bem\u00fchen sich, ihre Schritte zu beschleunigen. Die jungen Kollegien-Registratoren, die Gouvernements- und Kollegien-Sekret\u00e4re beeilen sich, die Zeit auszun\u00fctzen und einmal durch den Newskij-Prospekt mit einer Miene zu gehen, als h\u00e4tten sie beileibe nicht sechs Stunden in der Kanzlei gesessen. Aber die alten Kollegien-Sekret\u00e4re, Titular- und Hofr\u00e4te gehen schnell mit gesenkten K\u00f6pfen: sie haben andere Dinge im Sinn, als die Spazierg\u00e4nger zu mustern; sie haben sich von ihren Sorgen noch nicht ganz losgerissen; in ihren K\u00f6pfen ist ein Wirrwarr, ein ganzes Archiv begonnener und nicht beendeter Amtsgesch\u00e4fte; statt der Ladenschilde sehen sie lange Zeit nur Aktenschachteln oder das runde Gesicht des Kanzleivorstandes vor sich.\n\nVon 4 Uhr ab ist der Newskij-Prospekt leer, und man kann auf ihm kaum noch einem Beamten begegnen. Man sieht h\u00f6chstens eine N\u00e4herin aus dem W\u00e4schegesch\u00e4ft, die mit einem Karton in den H\u00e4nden \u00fcber den Newskij-Prospekt l\u00e4uft; irgendein ungl\u00fcckliches Opfer eines menschenfreundlichen Winkeladvokaten, das nun in seinem Friesmantel betteln gehen kann; irgendeinen zugereisten Sonderling, dem alle Stunden gleich sind; irgendeine lange Engl\u00e4nderin mit einem Strickbeutel und einem Buch in der Hand; einen Gesch\u00e4ftsdiener, einen Russen im baumwollenen Rock, mit hoher Taille und einem d\u00fcnnen B\u00e4rtchen, der immer auf dem Sprung lebt und an dem sich alles bewegt: der R\u00fccken, die Arme, die Beine und der Kopf, wenn er bescheiden \u00fcber das Trottoir geht; manchmal auch einen armen Handwerker... sonst begegnet man um diese Stunde auf dem Newskij-Prospekt niemand.\n\nSobald sich aber die D\u00e4mmerung auf die H\u00e4user und die Stra\u00dfen senkt, wenn der in eine Bastmatte geh\u00fcllte Nachtw\u00e4chter auf die Leiter steigt, um die Laternen anzuz\u00fcnden und in den niederen Ladenfenstern solche Stiche erscheinen, die sich am Tage nicht zu zeigen trauen, \u2013 dann wird der Newskij-Prospekt wieder lebendig und beginnt sich zu regen. Dann bricht jene geheimnisvolle Stunde an, wo die Lampen allen Dingen ein verlockendes, wunderbares Licht verleihen. Man begegnet vielen jungen Leuten, zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil Junggesellen, in warmen R\u00f6cken und M\u00e4nteln. Um diese Zeit l\u00e4\u00dft sich ein gewisses Ziel vermuten, oder, besser gesagt, etwas, was einem Ziele \u00e4hnlich sieht, etwas au\u00dferordentlich Unbewu\u00dftes; alle Schritte werden beschleunigt und werden \u00fcberhaupt ungleichm\u00e4\u00dfig; lange Schatten gleiten \u00fcber die Mauern und das Pflaster und erreichen mit ihren K\u00f6pfen beinahe die Polizeibr\u00fckke. Die jungen Kollegien-Registratoren, Gouvernements- und Kollegiensekret\u00e4re gehen sehr lange auf und ab; aber die alten Kollegien-Registratoren, Titular- und Hofr\u00e4te sitzen zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil zu Hause, denn sie sind verheiratete Leute oder haben bei sich deutsche K\u00f6chinnen, die ihnen die Speisen sehr schmackhaft zubereiten. Jetzt begegnet man hier wieder den ehrenwerten Greisen, die mit solcher W\u00fcrde und so wunderbarem Anstand um zwei Uhr auf dem Newskij-Prospekt spazierengegangen sind. Sie rennen ebenso schnell wie die jungen Kollegien-Registratoren, um einer Dame, die sie schon aus der Ferne bemerkt haben, unter den Hut zu sehen, einer Dame, deren dicke Lippen und dick bemalte Wangen vielen Spazierg\u00e4ngern so sehr gefallen, am meisten aber den Ladenkommis, den Gesch\u00e4ftsdienern und den Kaufleuten, die in deutschen R\u00f6cken in einem ganzen Rudel, gew\u00f6hnlich Arm in Arm, Spazierengehen.\n\n\u00bbHalt!\u00ab rief um diese Zeit der Leutnant Pirogow und zupfte den neben ihm gehenden, mit einem Frack und einem Mantel bekleideten jungen Mann am \u00c4rmel. \u00bbHast du sie gesehen?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch habe sie gesehen: herrlich, ganz wie Peruginos Bianca.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbVon welcher sprichst du?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbVon ihr, von der mit den dunklen Haaren... Was f\u00fcr Augen! Gott, was f\u00fcr Augen! Die ganze Figur, der Umri\u00df, das Oval des Gesichts \u2013 ein wahres Wunder!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbIch spreche aber von der Blondine, die hinter ihr nach jener Seite ging. Warum folgst du dann nicht der Br\u00fcnetten, wenn sie dir so gut gef\u00e4llt?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas denkst du dir!\u00ab rief der junge Mann im Frack err\u00f6tend. \u00bbSie ist doch nicht eine von jenen, die jeden Abend auf dem Newskij-Prospekt herumspazieren; sie mu\u00df eine sehr vornehme Dame sein,\u00ab fuhr er mit einem Seufzer fort: \u00bbder Mantel allein wird seine achtzig Rubel gekostet haben!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbEinfaltspinsel!\u00ab rief Pirogow und stie\u00df ihn gewaltsam nach jener Richtung, wo ihr leuchtender Mantel wehte. \u00bbGeh, du Narr, sonst verpa\u00dft du sie! Ich gehe aber der Blondine nach.\u00ab Die beiden Freunde trennten sich.\n\n\u00bbWir kennen euch alle!\u00ab dachte bei sich Pirogow mit einem selbstgef\u00e4lligen und selbstbewu\u00dften L\u00e4cheln, \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df es keine Sch\u00f6nheit g\u00e4be, die ihm widerstehen k\u00f6nnte.\n\nDer junge Mann im Frack und Mantel ging mit sch\u00fcchternen und bebenden Schritten nach der Seite, wo der bunte Mantel wehte, bald in grellen Farben leuchtend, wenn sie sich einer Laterne n\u00e4herte, bald im Dunkel verschwindend, wenn sie sich von der Laterne entfernte. Sein Herz klopfte, und er beschleunigte unwillk\u00fcrlich seine Schritte. Er wagte nicht einmal daran zu denken, da\u00df er irgendein Recht auf die Aufmerksamkeit der sich entfernenden Sch\u00f6nen erlangen k\u00f6nne, noch viel weniger konnte er den schwarzen Gedanken zulassen, auf den der Leutnant Pirogow angespielt hatte; er wollte nur das Haus sehen, sich merken, wo dieses herrliche Wesen wohnte, das auf den Newskij-Prospekt vom Himmel herabgeflogen schien und das wohl gleich wieder unbekannt wohin entschweben wird. Er lief so schnell, da\u00df er unaufh\u00f6rlich solide Herren mit grauen Bakkenb\u00e4rten vom Trottoir stie\u00df. Dieser junge Mann geh\u00f6rte zu der Klasse, die bei uns eine ziemlich seltene Erscheinung bildet und zu den B\u00fcrgern Petersburgs nur im gleichen Ma\u00dfe z\u00e4hlt, in dem eine uns im Traume erscheinende Person zu der Welt der Wirklichkeit geh\u00f6rt. Dieser exklusive Stand ist sehr ungew\u00f6hnlich in dieser Stadt, wo fast alle Einwohner entweder Beamte, oder Kaufleute, oder deutsche Handwerker sind. Er war K\u00fcnstler. Nicht wahr, eine seltsame Erscheinung \u2013 ein Petersburger K\u00fcnstler? Ein K\u00fcnstler im Lande des Schnees, im Lande der Finnen, wo alles na\u00df, glatt, flach, bleich, grau und neblig ist! Diese K\u00fcnstler gleichen gar nicht den italienischen K\u00fcnstlern, die so stolz und hei\u00dfbl\u00fctig sind wie Italien und sein Himmel; sie sind vielmehr zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil ein gutm\u00fctiges, sanftes V\u00f6lkchen, sch\u00fcchtern und sorglos. So ein K\u00fcnstler h\u00e4ngt mit einer stillen Liebe an seiner Kunst, trinkt in seinem kleinen Zimmer mit zwei Freunden Tee, spricht bescheiden \u00fcber den geliebten Gegenstand und denkt niemals an einen \u00dcberflu\u00df. So ein K\u00fcnstler l\u00e4dt irgendeine alte Bettlerin zu sich ein und zwingt sie geschlagene sechs Stunden zu sitzen, um ihre elende, ausdruckslose Miene auf die Leinwand zu bannen. Er zeichnet die perspektivische Ansicht seines Zimmers, in dem allerhand k\u00fcnstlerisches Ger\u00fcmpel herumliegt: H\u00e4nde und F\u00fc\u00dfe aus Gips, die durch die Zeit und den Staub kaffeebraun geworden sind, zerbrochene Staffeleien, eine umgeworfene Palette; einen Freund, der die Gitarre spielt, mit Farben beschmierte W\u00e4nde und ein offenes Fenster, durch das man die blasse Newa und arme Fischer in roten Hemden sieht. Sie haben fast alle ein graues, tr\u00fcbes Kolorit \u2013 den unausl\u00f6schlichen Stempel des Nordens. Dabei h\u00e4ngen sie mit aufrichtigem Entz\u00fccken an ihrer Arbeit. Sie haben oft ein wahres Talent, das, wenn es nur in die frische Luft Italiens k\u00e4me, sich sicher ebenso frei, gro\u00df und grell entfalten w\u00fcrde wie eine Pflanze, die man aus dem Zimmer endlich in die frische Luft bringt. Sie sind im allgemeinen sch\u00fcchtern: ein Ordensstern und eine dicke Epaulette verwirren sie derma\u00dfen, da\u00df sie unwillk\u00fcrlich den Preis ihrer Werke herabsetzen. Sie tragen sich zuweilen elegant, aber diese Eleganz erscheint bei ihnen zu auffallend und hat einige \u00c4hnlichkeit mit einem Flick auf einem alten Anzug. Man sieht sie manchmal in einem vorz\u00fcglichen Frack und einem schmutzigen Mantel, in einer kostbaren Samtweste und einem mit Farben beschmierten Rock \u2013 so sieht man auch auf ihren unvollendeten Landschaften zuweilen eine mit dem Kopf nach unten gezeichnete Nymphe, die der K\u00fcnstler, mangels eines anderen Platzes, auf den schmierigen Grund eines fr\u00fcheren Werkes hingeworfen, an dem er einst mit solchem Genu\u00df gearbeitet hatte. Er sieht einem niemals gerade in die Augen; tut er es doch, so blickt er tr\u00fcb und nichtssagend; es ist niemals der Habichtblick eines Beobachters oder der Falkenblick eines Kavallerieoffiziers. Das kommt daher, weil er zur gleichen Zeit ihre Z\u00fcge und die Z\u00fcge irgendeines gipsenen Herkules sieht, der in seinem Zimmer steht, oder weil ihm ein Bild vorschwebt, das er zu malen beabsichtigt. Darum beantwortet er die Fragen oft unzusammenh\u00e4ngend, manchmal falsch, und die sich in seinem Kopfe vermischenden Gegenst\u00e4nde vergr\u00f6\u00dfern noch mehr seine Sch\u00fcchternheit. Zu diesem Schlage geh\u00f6rte auch der von uns geschilderte junge Mann, der Maler Piskarjow, ein sch\u00fcchterner und scheuer Mensch, in dessen Seele aber Funken eines Gef\u00fchls glommen, die bei einer g\u00fcnstigen Gelegenheit zu einer Flamme auflodern konnten. Mit heimlichem Beben eilte er dem Gegenstande seiner Bewunderung nach, der ihn so tief ersch\u00fcttert hatte, und er schien selbst \u00fcber seine K\u00fchnheit zu staunen. Das unbekannte Gesch\u00f6pf, das seine Augen, Gedanken und Gef\u00fchle so m\u00e4chtig anzog, wandte pl\u00f6tzlich den Kopf und sah ihn an. Mein Gott, was f\u00fcr g\u00f6ttliche Z\u00fcge! Die blendend wei\u00dfe entz\u00fcckende Stirne war von achatgleichen Haaren beschattet. Sie bildeten wunderbare Locken, fielen zum Teil unter dem Hute hervor und ber\u00fchrten die Wangen, die von der abendlichen K\u00e4lte leicht ger\u00f6tet waren. Die Lippen schienen von einem ganzen Schwarm entz\u00fcckender Tr\u00e4ume versiegelt. Alles, was von den Erinnerungen der Kindheit zur\u00fcckbleibt, was beim Scheine der stillen Lampe Tr\u00e4ume und eine stille Begeisterung weckt \u2013 alles schien in ihren harmonischen Lippen vereinigt, flo\u00df in ihnen zusammen und spiegelte sich in ihnen. Sie blickte Piskarjow an, und unter diesem Blicke erbebte sein Herz; ihr Blick war streng: ihre Z\u00fcge dr\u00fcckten Entr\u00fcstung aus angesichts dieser frechen Verfolgung; aber auf diesem sch\u00f6nen Gesicht war sogar der Zorn ber\u00fcckend. Von Scham und Scheu ergriffen, blieb er stehen und schlug die Augen nieder; wie kann man aber diese Gottheit verlieren, ohne das Heiligtum gefunden zu haben, in dem sie sich niedergelassen hat? Solche Gedanken kamen dem jungen Tr\u00e4umer in den Sinn, und er entschlo\u00df sich, sie weiter zu verfolgen. Damit sie es aber nicht merke, blieb er weit hinter ihr zur\u00fcck, blickte sorglos nach allen Seiten und betrachtete die Ladenschilder, lie\u00df aber dabei keinen Schritt der Unbekannten aus den Augen. Es kamen immer weniger Passanten vorbei, die Stra\u00dfe wurde stiller, die Sch\u00f6ne sah sich um, und es kam ihm vor, als leuchtete ein leichtes L\u00e4cheln auf ihren Lippen. Er erzitterte am ganzen Leibe und traute seinen Augen nicht. Nein, es war das tr\u00fcgerische Laternenlicht, da\u00df auf ihrem Gesicht eine Art L\u00e4cheln hervorgezaubert hatte; es waren seine eigenen Gedanken, die sich \u00fcber ihn lustig machten. Aber ihm stockte der Atem, alles in ihm wurde zu einem einzigen Zittern, alle seine Gef\u00fchle gl\u00fchten, und alles vor ihm war von einem Nebel umfangen; das Trottoir enteilte unter seinen F\u00fc\u00dfen, die Equipagen mit den galoppierenden Pferden schienen unbeweglich, die Br\u00fccke zog sich in die L\u00e4nge und brach in ihrer W\u00f6lbung, das Haus stand auf dem Dache, ein Schilderh\u00e4uschen fiel auf ihn nieder, und die Hellebarde des Schutzmanns schien zugleich mit den goldenen Lettern des Ladenschildes und der gemalten Schere auf der Wimper seines Auges zu gl\u00e4nzen. Dies alles hatte ein einziger Blick, eine einzige Wendung des h\u00fcbschen K\u00f6pfchens bewirkt. Ohne etwas zu h\u00f6ren, zu sehen und zu verstehen, folgte er den leichten Spuren der sch\u00f6nen F\u00fc\u00dfchen und bem\u00fchte sich, die Schnelligkeit seiner Schritte zu hemmen, die sich im gleichen Takte wie sein Herz bewegten. Zuweilen packte ihn ein Zweifel, ob ihr Gesichtsausdruck in der Tat so wohlwollend gewesen sei, und dann blieb er f\u00fcr einen Augenblick stehen; aber das Herzklopfen, eine un\u00fcberwindliche Gewalt und die Aufregung aller seiner Gef\u00fchle trieben ihn vorw\u00e4rts. Er bemerkte sogar nicht, wie vor ihm pl\u00f6tzlich ein vierst\u00f6ckiges Haus auftauchte, wie alle vier erleuchteten Fensterreihen ihn zugleich anblickten und wie das Gel\u00e4nder vor der Einfahrt ihn eisern abwehrte. Er sah wie die Unbekannte die Treppe hinaufflog, wie sie sich umwandte, den Finger auf die Lippen legte und ihm bedeutete, ihr zu folgen. Seine Knie zitterten, seine Gedanken gl\u00fchten; ein Blitz der Freude durchzuckte sein Herz: Nein, es war kein Traum mehr! Gott, wieviel Freude in einem einzigen Augenblick! Ein so herrliches Leben in diesen zwei Minuten!\n\nAber war das alles kein Traum? War denn sie, f\u00fcr deren himmlischen Blick allein er sein ganzes Leben hingeben k\u00f6nnte, in der N\u00e4he deren Wohnung zu sein er schon f\u00fcr eine unsagbare Seligkeit hielt, war sie denn ihm soeben wirklich so wohl gewogen? Er flog die Treppe hinauf. Er empfand keinen einzigen irdischen Gedanken, er war nicht von der Flamme einer irdischen Leidenschaft entz\u00fcndet, \u2013 nein, er war in diesem Augenblick rein und s\u00fcndlos wie ein keuscher J\u00fcngling, der noch das Ungewisse, geistige Bed\u00fcrfnis nach Liebe atmet. Das, was in einem verdorbenen Menschen k\u00fchne W\u00fcnsche geweckt haben w\u00fcrde, das heiligte seine Gedanken noch mehr. Dieses Vertrauen, das ihm dieses schwache, sch\u00f6ne Gesch\u00f6pf entgegenbrachte, dieses Vertrauen hatte ihm das Gebot einer strengen Ritterlichkeit auferlegt, das Gel\u00fcbde, alle ihre Befehle sklavisch zu befolgen. Er wollte nur, da\u00df diese Befehle m\u00f6glichst schwer und unerf\u00fcllbar seien, damit er sie mit einer noch gr\u00f6\u00dferen Anspannung seiner Kr\u00e4fte befolgen k\u00f6nnte. Er zweifelte nicht daran, da\u00df irgend ein geheimes und zugleich wichtiges Ereignis die Unbekannte bewogen hatte, sich ihm anzuvertrauen; da\u00df sie von ihm irgendwelche wichtige Dienste verlangen w\u00fcrde, und er f\u00fchlte schon in sich eine Kraft und eine Entschlossenheit, alles zu wagen.\n\nDie Treppe wand sich hinauf, und zugleich mit ihr wanden sich seine schnellen Gedanken. \u00bbVorsichtiger!\u00ab erklang wie eine Harfe ihre Stimme und erf\u00fcllte alle seine Adern mit einem neuen Beben. In der dunklen H\u00f6he des vierten Stockes klopfte die Unbekannte an die T\u00fcr; die T\u00fcr \u00f6ffnete sich, und sie traten zusammen ein. Eine Frau von gar nicht \u00fcblem Aussehen empfing sie mit der Kerze in der Hand und sah Piskarjow so sonderbar und so frech an, da\u00df er unwillk\u00fcrlich seine Augen niederschlug. Sie traten in ein Zimmer. Drei weibliche Gestalten in drei verschiedenen Ecken boten sich seinen Blicken. Die eine legte Karten; die andere sa\u00df am Pianino und spielte mit zwei Fingern eine Art alte Polon\u00e4se; die dritte sa\u00df vor einem Spiegel, k\u00e4mmte mit einem Kamme ihr langes Haar und dachte gar nicht daran, beim Eintritt eines Unbekannten diese Besch\u00e4ftigung zu unterbrechen. Eine eigent\u00fcmliche, unangenehme Unordnung, wie man sie nur im Zimmer eines gleichg\u00fcltigen Junggesellen trifft, herrschte hier \u00fcberall. Die recht guten M\u00f6belst\u00fccke waren von Staub bedeckt; die Spinne hatte die Stuckverzierungen des Plafonds mit ihrem Gewebe \u00fcberzogen; durch die halbge\u00f6ffnete T\u00fcr sah man im Nebenzimmer einen mit einem Sporn versehenen Stiefel und den roten Vorsto\u00df einer Uniform leuchten; eine laute M\u00e4nnerstimme und weibliches Lachen klangen ganz ungezwungen.\n\nMein Gott, wo war er hingeraten! Anfangs wollte er seinen Wahrnehmungen nicht trauen und musterte aufmerksamer die Gegenst\u00e4nde, die das Zimmer f\u00fcllten; aber die kahlen W\u00e4nde und die Fenster ohne Vorh\u00e4nge wiesen auf das Fehlen einer sorgenden Hausfrau hin; die abgelebten Gesichter dieser elenden Gesch\u00f6pfe, von denen sich das eine dicht vor seiner Nase hinsetzte und ihn ebenso ruhig betrachtete, wie einen Fleck auf einem fremden Kleide, \u2013 dies alles gab ihm die \u00dcberzeugung, da\u00df er in eine ekelhafte Spelunke geraten war, wo das von der oberfl\u00e4chlichen Bildung und der schrecklichen \u00dcberv\u00f6lkerung der Hauptstadt gezeugte elende Laster nistete, in eine Behausung, wo der Mensch alles Reine und Heilige, was das Leben schm\u00fcckt, gottesl\u00e4sterlich erdr\u00fcckt und verspottet hat, wo die Frau, diese Zierde der Welt, diese Krone der Sch\u00f6pfung sich in ein seltsames, doppelsinniges Gesch\u00f6pf verwandelt, wo sie zugleich mit der Reinheit der Seele alles Weibliche eingeb\u00fc\u00dft und sich alle ekelhaften Manieren und die Frechheit des Mannes angeeignet und schon aufgeh\u00f6rt hat, jenes schwache, jenes herrliche, und von uns so verschiedene Wesen zu sein. Piskarjow ma\u00df sie vom Kopf bis zu den F\u00fc\u00dfen mit seinen erstaunten Blikken, als wollte er sich \u00fcberzeugen, ob es dieselbe sei, die ihn auf dem Newskij-Prospekt bezaubert und hingerissen hatte. Aber sie stand vor ihm noch ebenso sch\u00f6n; ebenso sch\u00f6n waren noch ihre Haare und ebenso himmlisch schienen ihre Augen. Sie war noch recht frisch; sie war erst siebzehn Jahre alt; man konnte ihr ansehen, da\u00df sie erst vor kurzer Zeit von dem schrecklichen Laster ergriffen worden war: es wagte noch nicht an ihren Wangen zu r\u00fchren, sie waren noch frisch und leicht ger\u00f6tet; sie war sch\u00f6n.\n\nEr stand unbeweglich vor ihr und war schon bereit, sich ebenso einf\u00e4ltigen Tr\u00e4umereien hinzugeben wie fr\u00fcher. Aber dieses lange Schweigen langweilte die Sch\u00f6ne, und sie l\u00e4chelte vielsagend, ihm gerade in die Augen blickend. Doch dieses L\u00e4cheln war von einer eigenen, elenden Frechheit erf\u00fcllt: es war so seltsam und pa\u00dfte ebenso zu ihrem Gesicht, wie der Ausdruck von Fr\u00f6mmigkeit zu der Fratze eines Wucherers oder ein Kontobuch zu einem Dichter. Er erbebte. Sie \u00f6ffnete ihren h\u00fcbschen Mund und begann etwas zu sprechen, aber es war so dumm, so abgeschmackt... Es war, als ob zugleich mit der Unschuld auch der Verstand den Menschen verlie\u00dfe! Er wollte nichts h\u00f6ren. Er war au\u00dferordentlich komisch und einf\u00e4ltig wie ein Kind. Statt dieses Wohlwollen auszun\u00fctzen, statt sich \u00fcber diesen Zufall zu freuen, wie sich an seiner Stelle wohl jeder andere gefreut haben w\u00fcrde, st\u00fcrzte er wie eine Gazelle aus dem Zimmer und lief auf die Stra\u00dfe.\n\nMit gesenktem Kopf und herabh\u00e4ngenden Armen sa\u00df er in seinem Zimmer wie ein Bettler, der eine kostbare Perle gefunden und sie gleich wieder ins Meer hat fallen lassen. \u00bbEine solche Sch\u00f6nheit, so g\u00f6ttliche Z\u00fcge! Und wo? An welchem Ort?...\u00ab Das war alles, was er sagen konnte.\n\nIn der Tat, nie empfinden wir schmerzvolleres Mitleid als beim Anblick einer Sch\u00f6nheit, die vom verderblichen Odem des Lasters ber\u00fchrt worden ist. Wenn sich zum Laster noch die H\u00e4\u00dflichkeit gesellt; aber die Sch\u00f6nheit, eine zarte Sch\u00f6nheit... Wir k\u00f6nnen sie in unseren Gedanken doch nur mit S\u00fcndlosigkeit und Reinheit verbinden. Die Sch\u00f6ne, die den armen Piskarjow so bezaubert hatte, war in der Tat eine wunderbare, ungew\u00f6hnliche Erscheinung. Ihre Anwesenheit in dieser ver\u00e4chtlichen Gesellschaft schien um so ungew\u00f6hnlicher. Alle ihre Z\u00fcge waren so rein geformt, der ganze Ausdruck des sch\u00f6nen Gesichts war von solchem Adel gezeichnet, da\u00df man sich unm\u00f6glich denken konnte, das Laster h\u00e4tte schon seine schrecklichen Krallen in sie geschlagen. Sie h\u00e4tte f\u00fcr einen leidenschaftlichen Gatten eine kostbare Perle, eine ganze Welt, ein ganzes Paradies, ein ganzer Reichtum sein k\u00f6nnen; sie w\u00e4re ein herrlicher, stiller Stern in einem bescheidenen Familienkreise, wo sie mit einer einzigen Bewegung ihrer herrlichen Lippen s\u00fc\u00dfe Befehle erteilen w\u00fcrde. Sie k\u00f6nnte eine Gottheit in einem \u00fcberf\u00fcllten Saale sein, auf dem strahlenden Parkett, im Scheine der Kerzen, unter der stummen Andacht der zu ihren F\u00fc\u00dfen liegenden Schar von Verehrern. Aber ach! der schreckliche Wille eines H\u00f6llengeistes, der danach strebt, die Harmonie des Lebens zu st\u00f6ren, hatte sie mit Hohngel\u00e4chter in diesen schrecklichen Abgrund geworfen.\n\nVon einem herzzerrei\u00dfenden Mitleid erf\u00fcllt, sa\u00df er vor der heruntergebrannten Kerze. Die Mitternacht war l\u00e4ngst vor\u00fcber, die Turmuhr schlug halb eins, er aber sa\u00df unbeweglich, schlaflos, unt\u00e4tig. Der Schlummer ben\u00fctzte seine Unbeweglichkeit und fing schon an, sich seiner langsam zu bem\u00e4chtigen, das Zimmer fing an zu verschwinden, nur noch die Kerzenflamme allein leuchtete durch die Visionen, als pl\u00f6tzlich ein Klopfen an der T\u00fcre ihn auffahren und zu sich kommen lie\u00df. Die T\u00fcr ging auf, und ein Lakai in reicher Livree trat ein. In sein einsames Zimmer hatte noch niemals eine reiche Livree hineingeblickt, zudem zu einer so ungew\u00f6hnlichen Stunde... Er konnte nichts begreifen und starrte mit Ungeduld und Neugierde den Lakai an.\n\n\u00bbDie Dame,\u00ab sagte der Lakai mit einer h\u00f6flichen Verbeugung, \u00bbbei der Sie vor einigen Stunden gewesen sind, l\u00e4\u00dft Sie zu sich bitten und schickt einen Wagen nach Ihnen.\u00ab\n\nPiskarjow stand in stummem Erstaunen da: Einen Wagen, ein livrierter Lakai!... Nein, es ist wohl ein Mi\u00dfverst\u00e4ndnis...\n\n\u00bbH\u00f6ren Sie einmal, mein Lieber,\u00ab sagte er sch\u00fcchtern, \u00bbSie haben sich wohl in der Adresse geirrt. Die Dame hat Sie zweifellos nach jemand anders geschickt und nicht nach mir.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNein, mein Herr, ich habe mich nicht geirrt. Sie haben doch geruht, die Dame zu Fu\u00df zum Hause in der Litejnaja, ins Zimmer im vierten Stocke zu begleiten?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbJa, ich.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNun, dann kommen Sie bitte schnell mit. Die Gn\u00e4dige will Sie unbedingt sehen und bittet Sie, zu ihr ins Haus zu kommen.\u00ab\n\nPiskarjow lief die Treppe hinunter. Drau\u00dfen wartete wirklich ein Wagen. Er stieg ein, der Schlag wurde zugeklappt, die Pflastersteine dr\u00f6hnten unter den R\u00e4dern und Hufen, und die erleuchtete Perspektive der H\u00e4user mit den Laternen und den Ladenschildern flog an den Wagenfenstern vorbei. Piskarjow dachte w\u00e4hrend der ganzen Fahrt nach und wu\u00dfte nicht, wie sich dieses Abenteuer zu erkl\u00e4ren. Ein eigenes Haus, ein Wagen, ein Lakai in einer reichen Livree... Dies alles reimte sich gar nicht mit dem Zimmer im vierten Stock, mit den staubigen Fenstern und dem verstimmten Pianino zusammen. Die Equipage hielt vor einer hell erleuchteten Einfahrt, und er war ganz erstaunt \u00fcber die Reihe von Equipagen, das Stimmengewirr der vielen Kutscher, die hellerleuchteten Fenster und die T\u00f6ne der Musik. Der Lakai in der reichen Livree half ihm aus dem Wagen und f\u00fchrte ihn respektvoll in einen Flur mit Marmors\u00e4ulen, in dem ein goldstrotzender Portier stand, \u00fcberall M\u00e4ntel und Pelze herumlagen und eine helle Lampe brannte. Eine luftige Treppe mit gl\u00e4nzendem Gel\u00e4nder f\u00fchrte inmitten von Wohlger\u00fcchen hinauf. Schon war er auf der Treppe, schon trat er in den ersten Saal und erschrak und taumelte vor den vielen Leuten zur\u00fcck. Die ungew\u00f6hnliche Buntheit der G\u00e4ste verwirrte ihn; es war ihm, als h\u00e4tte irgendein D\u00e4mon die ganze Welt in eine Menge verschiedener St\u00fccke zerbr\u00f6ckelt und diese St\u00fccke ohne jeden Sinn und Plan vermischt. Strahlende Damenschultern und schwarze Fr\u00e4cke, L\u00fcster, Lampen, luftige, schwebende T\u00fcllgewebe, \u00e4therleichte B\u00e4nder und die dicke Ba\u00dfgeige, die hinter dem Gel\u00e4nder des wundervollen Chors hervorschaute, \u2013 alles blendete ihn. Er sah auf einmal eine solche Menge ehrenwerter Greise und Halbgreise mit Ordenssternen auf den Fr\u00e4kken, von Damen, die so leicht, stolz und grazi\u00f6s \u00fcber das Parkett glitten, oder in Reihen nebeneinander sa\u00dfen; er h\u00f6rte so viele franz\u00f6sische und englische Worte; au\u00dferdem waren die jungen M\u00e4nner in den schwarzen Fr\u00e4cken von einem solchen Anstand erf\u00fcllt, sprachen und schwiegen mit solcher W\u00fcrde, verstanden so ausgezeichnet, nichts \u00dcberfl\u00fcssiges zu sagen, scherzten so majest\u00e4tisch, l\u00e4chelten so ehrfurchtsvoll, trugen so wunderbare Backenb\u00e4rte zur Schau und verstanden so kunstvoll ihre sch\u00f6nen H\u00e4nde zu zeigen, indem sie ihre Halsbinden zurechtzupften; die Damen waren so luftig, so tief in vollkommene Zufriedenheit und Wonne versunken, schlugen so entz\u00fcckend die Augen nieder, \u2013 da\u00df... aber schon das dem\u00fctige Aussehen Piskarjows, der sich \u00e4ngstlich an eine S\u00e4ule lehnte, zeigte, da\u00df er ganz die Fassung verloren hatte. In diesem Augenblick dr\u00e4ngte sich die Menge um eine tanzende Gruppe. Die T\u00e4nzerinnen waren in durchsichtige Sch\u00f6pfungen von Paris geh\u00fcllt, in Kleider, die aus Luft gewebt schienen; fl\u00fcchtig ber\u00fchrten sie mit ihren funkelnden F\u00fc\u00dfchen das Parkett und schienen noch \u00e4therischer, als wenn sie es \u00fcberhaupt nicht ber\u00fchrten. Aber eine von ihnen war sch\u00f6ner als alle, prachtvoller und gl\u00e4nzender als alle gekleidet. Ein unsagbarer feiner Geschmack spiegelte sich in ihrem ganzen Aufputz, und dabei hatte man den Eindruck, als k\u00fcmmerte sie sich gar nicht um ihn, als sei alles ganz von selbst entstanden. Sie sah und sah zugleich auch nicht auf die Zuschauer, die sich um sie dr\u00e4ngten, sie hielt ihre langen Wimpern gleichg\u00fcltig gesenkt, und das blendende Wei\u00df ihres Gesichtes erschien noch blendender, wenn sich bei einer Senkung des Kopfes ein leichter Schatten auf ihre entz\u00fcckende Stirn legte.\n\nPiskarjow wandte alle M\u00fche an, um sich durch die Menge zu schieben und die Sch\u00f6ne n\u00e4her zu sehen; aber irgendein gro\u00dfer Kopf mit dunklem Kraushaar verdeckte sie zu seinem gr\u00f6\u00dften \u00c4rger immer wieder vor ihm; au\u00dferdem hatte ihn die Menge so eingezw\u00e4ngt, da\u00df er weder sich vorw\u00e4rtszudr\u00e4ngen, noch zur\u00fcckzuweichen wagte, aus Furcht, irgendeinen Geheimrat anzusto\u00dfen. Da hat er sich aber doch vorgedr\u00e4ngt und einen Blick auf seine Kleidung geworfen, um sie etwas in Ordnung zu bringen. Du lieber Himmel, was ist denn das?! Er hat ja einen \u00fcber und \u00fcber mit Farben beschmierten Rock an: in der Eile hatte er ganz vergessen, sich vor dem Aufbruch anst\u00e4ndig umzuziehen. Er err\u00f6tete bis \u00fcber die Ohren, senkte den Kopf und wollte in die Erde versinken; aber auch das war ganz unm\u00f6glich: hinter ihm stand eine ganze Mauer von Kammerjunkern in gl\u00e4nzenden Uniformen. Er w\u00fcnschte sich weit fort von der Sch\u00f6nen mit der herrlichen Stirne und den sch\u00f6nen Wimpern. Voller Angst hob er die Augen, um festzustellen, ob sie ihn nicht ansehe. Mein Gott, sie stand ja vor ihm!... Aber was ist das, was ist das? \u00bbDas ist sie!\u00ab rief er pl\u00f6tzlich ganz laut. Es war in der Tat sie, dieselbe, der er auf dem Newskij begegnet war und die er bis zu ihrer Wohnung begleitet hatte.\n\nSie hob indessen ihre Wimpern und sah alle mit ihrem heiteren Blick an. \u00bbAch, wie sch\u00f6n!...\u00ab das war alles, was er mit stokkendem Atem sagen konnte. Sie lie\u00df ihre Blicke im Kreise schweifen, \u2013 ein jeder wollte ihre Aufmerksamkeit auf sich lenken, aber sie wandte mit einer eigent\u00fcmlichen Erm\u00fcdung und Gleichg\u00fcltigkeit die Blicke von allen ab und richtete sie auf Piskarjow. Oh, welch ein Himmel! Welch ein Paradies! Sch\u00f6pfer, gib mir die Kraft, es zu ertragen! Das Leben kann es nicht fassen, dieser Blick mu\u00df es zerst\u00f6ren und die Seele entf\u00fchren! Sie gab ihm ein Zeichen, aber nicht mit der Hand und nicht durch ein Nicken des Kopfes, nein, in ihren alles zermalmenden Augen kam dieses Zeichen so leise, so unmerklich zum Ausdruck, da\u00df niemand es wahrnehmen konnte; er aber sah und verstand es. Der Tanz dauerte lange; die m\u00fcde Musik schien allm\u00e4hlich zu ersterben und zu erl\u00f6schen, schwang sich dann wieder auf, kreischte und dr\u00f6hnte; endlich war der Tanz zu Ende. Sie setzte sich; ihre erm\u00fcdete Brust hob sich unter den zarten T\u00fcllwolken; ihre Hand (Sch\u00f6pfer, was f\u00fcr eine wundervolle Hand!) sank auf ihre Kniee, fiel auf ihr luftiges Gewand, und ihr Kleid schien unter der Last dieser Hand Musik zu atmen, und seine zarte Fliederfarbe unterstrich noch mehr das blendende Wei\u00df dieser herrlichen Hand. Nur einmal diese Hand ber\u00fchren, \u2013 und nichts mehr! Keine anderen W\u00fcnsche, \u2013 alle anderen W\u00fcnsche sind zu k\u00fchn... Er stand hinter ihrem Stuhl und wagte nicht, zu sprechen, wagte nicht zu atmen. \u00bbSie haben sich wohl gelangweilt?\u00ab sagte sie: \u00bbAuch ich habe mich gelangweilt. Ich merke, da\u00df Sie mich hassen...\u00ab f\u00fcgte sie hinzu, indem sie ihre langen Wimpern senkte.\n\n\u00bbSie hassen? Ich?... Ich?...\u00ab wollte der ganz fassungslose Piskarjow sagen; er h\u00e4tte auch gewi\u00df eine Menge unzusammenh\u00e4ngender Worte gesagt, aber in diesem Augenblick nahte ihr ein Kammerherr mit einem sch\u00f6n frisierten Toupet und machte einige witzige und angenehme Bemerkungen. Er zeigte nicht ohne Anmut eine Reihe recht sch\u00f6ner Z\u00e4hne und trieb mit jedem Witz einen spitzen Nagel in Piskarjows Herz. Endlich wandte sich zum Gl\u00fcck jemand an den Kammerherrn mit irgendeiner Frage.\n\n\u00bbWie unertr\u00e4glich!\u00ab sagte sie und richtete auf ihn ihre himmlischen Augen. \u00bbIch werde mich am anderen Ende des Saales hinsetzen: finden Sie sich dort ein!\u00ab Sie glitt durch die Menge und verschwand. Er bahnte sich wie wahnsinnig den Weg durch das Gedr\u00e4nge und stand schon neben ihr.\n\nSie war es wirklich! Sie sa\u00df wie eine K\u00f6nigin, sch\u00f6ner und herrlicher als alle, und suchte ihn mit den Augen.\n\n\u00bbSie sind hier?\u00ab sagte sie leise. \u00bbIch will mit Ihnen aufrichtig sein: die Umst\u00e4nde unserer Begegnung sind Ihnen wohl merkw\u00fcrdig vorgekommen. Glauben Sie denn, da\u00df ich zu den ver\u00e4chtlichen Gesch\u00f6pfen geh\u00f6ren k\u00f6nne, unter denen Sie mich trafen? Ihnen erscheinen meine Handlungen wohl sonderbar, aber ich will Ihnen das Geheimnis enth\u00fcllen. Sind Sie imstande,\u00ab sagte sie, indem sie auf ihn ihre Augen richtete, \u00bbes niemand zu verraten?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbOh, gewi\u00df, gewi\u00df, gewi\u00df!...\u00ab\n\nIn diesem Augenblick trat aber an sie ein \u00e4lterer Herr heran, er begann mit ihr in einer Sprache zu reden, die Piskarjow unverst\u00e4ndlich war, und reichte ihr den Arm. Sie warf einen flehenden Blick auf Piskarjow und bedeutete ihm durch ein Zeichen, auf seinem Platze zu bleiben und auf sie zu warten; aber er war in seiner Ungeduld nicht imstande, irgendwelche Befehle, selbst solche aus ihrem Munde, zu befolgen. Er ging ihr nach, aber die Menge dr\u00e4ngte sich zwischen sie. Er konnte ihr fliederfarbenes Kleid nicht mehr sehen; von Unruhen ergriffen, dr\u00e4ngte er sich von einem Zimmer ins andere und stie\u00df alle unbarmherzig zur Seite; aber in allen Zimmern sa\u00dfen lauter gro\u00dfe Tiere beim Whist, in vollkommenes Schwelgen geh\u00fcllt. In der Ekke eines Zimmers stritten einige \u00e4ltere Herren \u00fcber die Vorz\u00fcge des Milit\u00e4rdienstes gegen\u00fcber dem Zivildienste; in einer anderen Ecke machten einige junge M\u00e4nner in gutsitzenden Fr\u00e4cken fl\u00fcchtige Bemerkungen \u00fcber das mehrb\u00e4ndige Werk eines ernsten Dichters. Piskarjow f\u00fchlte, wie ein \u00e4lterer Herr von respektgebietendem Aussehen ihn am Knopfe seines Fracks festhielt und sein Urteil \u00fcber eine recht treffende Bemerkung, die er gemacht, h\u00f6ren wollte; er stie\u00df ihn aber roh zur Seite und merkte sogar nicht, das jener einen ziemlich hohen Orden am Halse hatte. Er lief in ein anderes Zimmer, \u2013 sie war dort nicht, in ein drittes, \u2013 auch dort war sie nicht. \u00bbWo ist sie denn? Gebt sie mir! Oh, ich kann nicht leben, ohne sie zu sehen! Ich will h\u00f6ren, was sie mir sagen wollte!\u00ab Aber all sein Suchen war vergeblich. Unruhig, erm\u00fcdet dr\u00fcckte er sich in eine Ecke und blickte in die Menge; seine gespannten Augen sahen aber alles getr\u00fcbt. Endlich sah er um sich deutlich die W\u00e4nde seines eigenen Zimmers. Er hob die Augen: vor ihm stand der Leuchter mit fast erloschener Flamme; die ganze Kerze war geschmolzen; der Talg hatte sich auf seinen alten Tisch ergossen...\n\nEr hatte also nur geschlafen! Mein Gott, welch ein herrlicher Traum! Wozu mu\u00dfte er auch erwachen? Warum hatte es nicht noch eine Minute gedauert? Sie w\u00e4re doch sicher wieder erschienen! Das Morgengrauen blickte mit seinem unangenehmen, tr\u00fcben Scheine zu ihm ins Zimmer und \u00e4rgerte ihn. Das Zimmer lag so grau und unordentlich vor ihm... Oh wie absto\u00dfend ist doch die Wirklichkeit! Was ist sie im Vergleich zu einem Traume. Er entkleidete sich schnell, legte sich ins Bett und h\u00fcllte sich in die Decke: er wollte unbedingt das entschwundene Traumbild zur\u00fcckrufen. Ihn \u00fcberkam wieder der Schlaf, er tr\u00e4umte aber von Dingen, die er gar nicht sehen wollte: bald erschien ihm der Leutnant Pirogow mit einer Pfeife, bald ein Diener der Kunstakademie, bald ein wirklicher Staatsrat, bald der Kopf einer Finnin, deren Bildnis er einmal gemalt hatte, und \u00e4hnlicher Unsinn.\n\nEr lag bis zur Mittagstunde im Bett und bem\u00fchte sich, wieder einzuschlafen, sie erschien aber nicht. Wenn sie doch nur f\u00fcr einen Augenblick ihre herrlichen Z\u00fcge zeigen wollte, wenn er doch nur einen Augenblick ihre leichten Schritte h\u00f6ren, ihre blo\u00dfe, wie der Schnee auf den h\u00f6chsten Bergesgipfeln leuchtende Hand sehen k\u00f6nnte!\n\nEr hatte alles von sich geworfen, alles vergessen, und sah mit best\u00fcrzter, hoffnungsloser Miene, nur von dem einen Traumbilde erf\u00fcllt. Er wollte nichts anr\u00fchren; seine Augen blickten teilnahmslos und leblos durchs Fenster auf den Hof, wo ein schmutziger Wasserf\u00fchrer Wasser ausschenkte, das in der Luft einfror, und die Stimme eines Hausierers meckerte: \u00bbAlte Kleider zu verkaufen!\u00ab Alles Allt\u00e4gliche und Wirkliche ber\u00fchrte seltsam sein Ohr. So sa\u00df er bis zum Abend und warf sich dann voller Sehnsucht ins Bett. Lange k\u00e4mpfte er gegen die Schlaflosigkeit, und schlie\u00dflich \u00fcberwand er sie. Wieder hatte er einen Traum, einen gemeinen, h\u00e4\u00dflichen Traum. \u00bbGott, erbarme dich meiner, zeig' sie mir, wenn auch nur f\u00fcr einen Augenblick!\u00ab Er wartete wieder auf den Abend, er schlief wieder ein, und tr\u00e4umte wieder von irgendeinem Beamten, der ein Beamter und zugleich ein Fagott war. Oh, das war unertr\u00e4glich! Endlich erschien sie! Er sah ihren Kopf, ihre Locken... sie sah ihn an... Oh, wie kurz! Und wieder versank alles in einem Nebel und wurde von einem dummen Traumgesicht verdeckt.\n\nEndlich wurden diese Traumgesichte zu seinem eigentlichen Leben, und sein ganzes Leben nahm von nun an eine merkw\u00fcrdige Form an: er schlief, sozusagen, im Wachen und wachte im Schlafen. H\u00e4tte ihn jemand stumm vor seinem leeren Tische sitzen oder durch die Stra\u00dfen gehen sehen, so mu\u00dfte er ihn f\u00fcr einen Nachtwandler halten oder f\u00fcr einen vom Alkohol vergifteten Menschen: so ausdruckslos war sein Blick. Seine angeborene Zerstreutheit entwickelte sich noch mehr und verjagte von seinem Gesicht gewaltsam alle Gef\u00fchle und Regungen. Nur beim Anbruch der Nacht wurde er wieder lebendig.\n\nDieser Zustand zerr\u00fcttete seine Kr\u00e4fte, und seine schrecklichste Qual war, da\u00df der Schlaf anfing, ihn ganz zu fliehen. Um seinen einzigen Reichtum zu erhalten, wandte er alle Mittel an, um den Schlaf wiederzuerlangen. Er hatte geh\u00f6rt, es g\u00e4be wohl ein Mittel, den Schlaf wiederzuerlangen \u2013 man brauche nur Opium einzunehmen. Wo verschafft man sich aber Opium? Er erinnerte sich eines persischen Kaufmanns, der mit Schals handelte und der ihn bei fast jeder Begegnung bat, ihm eine junge Sch\u00f6ne zu malen. Er beschlo\u00df, zu diesem Perser zu gehen, in der Annahme, da\u00df jener wohl sicher Opium habe.\n\nDer Perser empfing ihn, mit untergeschlagenen Beinen auf einem Sofa sitzend. \u00bbWozu brauchst du Opium?\u00ab fragte er ihn.\n\nPiskarjow erz\u00e4hlte ihm von seiner Schlaflosigkeit.\n\n\u00bbGut, ich will dir Opium geben, du mu\u00dft mir aber eine junge Sch\u00f6ne malen. Sie mu\u00df sehr sch\u00f6n sein! Die Brauen schwarz, und die Augen gro\u00df wie Oliven; ich selbst soll aber neben ihr liegen und eine Pfeife rauchen! H\u00f6rst du, sie mu\u00df sch\u00f6n sein, sehr sch\u00f6n!\u00ab\n\nPiskarjow versprach ihm alles. Der Perser ging f\u00fcr einen Augenblick hinaus und brachte ein Glas mit einer dunklen Fl\u00fcssigkeit. Er go\u00df einen Teil davon in ein Fl\u00e4schchen und gab es Piskarjow mit der Weisung, nicht mehr als sieben Tropfen in Wasser zu nehmen. Piskarjow ergriff gierig das kostbare Gl\u00e4schen, das er auch nicht f\u00fcr einen Haufen Goldes wieder hergegeben h\u00e4tte, und st\u00fcrzte nach Hause.\n\nZu Hause angelangt, go\u00df er einige Tropfen in ein Glas Wasser, nahm es ein und warf sich aufs Bett.\n\nGott, diese Freude! Sie! Wieder sie, aber schon in einer ganz anderen Welt! Wie schon sitzt sie am Fenster eines freundlichen Landh\u00e4uschens! Ihre Kleidung atmet solche Schlichtheit, wie sie nur ein Dichter ersinnen kann. Das Haar auf ihrem Kopfe... Gott, wie einfach ist ihre Haartracht und wie gut steht sie zu ihrem Gesicht! Ein knappes T\u00fcchlein liegt ganz lose auf ihrem schlanken Halse; alles an ihr ist so bescheiden, alles von einem geheimnisvollen, unbeschreiblichen Geschmack erf\u00fcllt. Wie lieblich ist ihr grazi\u00f6ser Gang! Wie musikalisch der Tritt ihrer F\u00fc\u00dfe und das Rascheln ihres einfachen Kleides! Wie sch\u00f6n ihre Hand mit dem aus Haaren geflochtenen Armband. Sie spricht zu ihm mit Tr\u00e4nen in den Augen: \u00bbVerachten Sie mich nicht: ich bin gar nicht die, f\u00fcr die sie mich halten. Sehen Sie mich doch aufmerksamer an und sagen Sie mir: bin ich denn dessen f\u00e4hig, was Sie von mir denken?\u00ab \u00bbOh, nein, nein, soll jeder, der solches zu denken wagt...\u00ab\n\nEr erwachte aber ger\u00fchrt, zerqu\u00e4lt, mit Tr\u00e4nen in den Augen. \u00bbEs w\u00e4re besser, wenn du gar nicht existiertest, wenn du in dieser Welt nicht lebtest, sondern nur die Sch\u00f6pfung eines begeisterten K\u00fcnstlers w\u00e4rest! Ich w\u00fcrde dann niemals von der Leinwand weichen, ich w\u00fcrde dich ewig anschauen und dich k\u00fcssen, ich w\u00fcrde nur durch dich leben und atmen wie in einem sch\u00f6nen Traum, und dann w\u00e4re ich gl\u00fccklich; andere W\u00fcnsche h\u00e4tte ich nicht. Ich w\u00fcrde dich vor dem Einschlafen und vor dem Erwachen wie meinen Schutzengel anrufen, ich w\u00fcrde auf dich warten, wenn ich etwas G\u00f6ttliches und Heiliges darzustellen h\u00e4tte. Aber jetzt... welch ein schreckliches Leben! Was n\u00fctzt es mir, da\u00df sie lebt? Ist denn das Leben eines Wahnsinnigen seinen Verwandten und Freunden, die ihn einst geliebt haben, angenehm! Gott, was ist unser Leben! Ein ewiger Kampf zwischen Traum und Wirklichkeit!\u00ab\n\nBeil\u00e4ufig solche Gedanken besch\u00e4ftigten ihn ununterbrochen. Er dachte sonst an nichts, er nahm fast keine Speise zu sich und wartete mit der Ungeduld und der Leidenschaftlichkeit eines Liebhabers auf den Abend und auf das ersehnte Traumgesicht. Die st\u00e4ndige Richtung seiner Gedanken auf ein Ziel erlangte schlie\u00dflich eine solche Gewalt \u00fcber sein ganzes Sein und seine Phantasie, da\u00df das ersehnte Bild ihm fast jeden Tag erschien, und zwar immer in einer, der Wirklichkeit gerade entgegengesetzten Lage, denn seine Gedanken waren vollkommen rein wie die Gedanken eines Kindes. Durch diese Tr\u00e4ume wurde der Gegenstand seiner Sehnsucht selbst gel\u00e4utert und verkl\u00e4rt.\n\nDas Opium erhitzte seine Gedanken noch mehr, und wenn es je einen bis zum h\u00f6chsten Grade des Wahnsinns, ungest\u00fcm, schrecklich, allverzehrend und st\u00fcrmisch Liebenden gegeben hat, so war dieser Ungl\u00fcckliche er.\n\nVon allen seinen Traumgesichten freute ihn eines mehr als alle anderen: er sah sein Atelier vor sich. Er war so heiter und sa\u00df so frohgemut mit der Palette in der Hand! Und auch sie war dabei. Sie war schon seine Frau. Sie sa\u00df auf seiner Seite, den reizenden Ellenbogen auf die Stuhllehne gest\u00fctzt und sah seiner Arbeit zu. In ihren schmachtenden, m\u00fcden Augen lag eine Last von Gl\u00fcck; alles im Zimmer atmete paradiesische Seligkeit; es war so hell, so sch\u00f6n aufger\u00e4umt. Gott, sie lehnte ihr reizendes K\u00f6pfchen an seine Brust... Einen sch\u00f6neren Traum hatte er noch nie gehabt. Er erwachte diesmal irgendwie frischer und weniger zerstreut als sonst. In seinem Kopfe schwirrten seltsame Gedanken. \u00bbVielleicht ist sie durch einen unverschuldeten, schrecklichen Zufall in das Laster hineingezogen,\u00ab dachte er sich: \u00bbVielleicht sehnt sich ihre Seele nach Reue; vielleicht m\u00f6chte sie sich selbst aus ihrem schrecklichen Zustande befreien. Darf ich denn gleichg\u00fcltig ihrem Untergange zusehen, w\u00e4hrend ich ihr doch blo\u00df die Hand zu reichen brauche, um sie vor dem Ertrinken zu retten?\u00ab\n\nSeine Gedanken gingen noch weiter. \u00bbMich kennt niemand,\u00ab sagte er zu sich selbst, \u00bbniemand k\u00fcmmert sich um mich, und auch ich k\u00fcmmere mich um niemand. Wenn sie aufrichtige Reue \u00e4u\u00dfert und ihren Lebenswandel \u00e4ndert, werde ich sie heiraten. Ich mu\u00df sie heiraten und werde sicher viel besser tun, als viele, die ihre Haush\u00e4lterinnen und oft sogar die ver\u00e4chtlichsten Gesch\u00f6pfe, heiraten. Meine Tat wird aber uneigenn\u00fctzig und vielleicht sogar gro\u00df sein; ich werde der Welt ihre sch\u00f6nste Zierde wiedergeben!\u00ab\n\nAls er einen so leichtsinnigen Plan gefa\u00dft, f\u00fchlte er, wie ihm das Blut ins Gesicht scho\u00df; er trat vor den Spiegel und erschrak selbst vor seinen eingefallenen Wangen und seinem blassen Gesicht. Er kleidete sich sorgf\u00e4ltig an, wusch sich, k\u00e4mmte sich das Haar, zog einen neuen Frack und eine elegante Weste an, warf sich den Mantel um und trat auf die Stra\u00dfe. Er atmete die frische Luft und f\u00fchlte sein Herz erfrischt wie ein Genesender, der zum erstenmal nach einer langen Krankheit ins Freie tritt. Sein Herz klopfte, als er sich der Stra\u00dfe n\u00e4herte, die sein Fu\u00df seit jener verh\u00e4ngnisvollen Begegnung nicht mehr betreten hatte.\n\nLange suchte er das Haus; sein Ged\u00e4chtnis schien ihn im Stich zu lassen. Er ging zweimal durch die Stra\u00dfe und wu\u00dfte nicht, vor welchem Hause stehen zu bleiben. Endlich kam ihm eines bekannt vor. Er lief schnell die Treppe hinauf und klopfte an die T\u00fcr; die T\u00fcr ging auf, und wer trat ihm entgegen? Sein Ideal, das geheimnisvolle Bild, das Original seiner Traumgesichte, diejenige, die sein Leben, sein schreckliches, qualvolles, s\u00fc\u00dfes Leben ausgemacht hatte, \u2013 sie, sie selbst stand vor ihm. Er erzitterte; er war von Freude ergriffen und konnte sich vor Schw\u00e4che kaum auf den F\u00fc\u00dfen halten. Sie stand vor ihm noch ebenso sch\u00f6n da, obwohl ihre Augen verschlafen waren, obwohl ihr nicht mehr ganz frisches Gesicht bla\u00df war; aber sie war immer noch herrlich.\n\n\u00bbAch!\u00ab rief sie, als sie Piskarjow erblickte, und rieb sich ihre verschlafenen Augen (es war aber schon zwei Uhr): \u00bbWarum sind Sie damals von uns weggelaufen?\u00ab\n\nEr setzte sich ersch\u00f6pft auf einen Stuhl und sah sie an.\n\n\u00bbIch bin eben aufgewacht; man hat mich erst um sieben Uhr fr\u00fch heimgebracht. Ich war ganz betrunken,\u00ab f\u00fcgte sie mit einem L\u00e4cheln hinzu.\n\nAch, w\u00e4re sie doch lieber stumm und der Sprache beraubt, statt solche Reden zu f\u00fchren! Sie hatte ihm pl\u00f6tzlich wie in einem Panorama ihr ganzes Leben gezeigt. Aber er fa\u00dfte sich dennoch ein Herz und entschlo\u00df sich, zu versuchen, auf sie durch Ermahnungen einzuwirken. Er nahm sich zusammen und hielt ihr mit zitternder und zugleich leidenschaftlicher Stimme das Schreckliche ihrer Lage vor. Sie h\u00f6rte ihm mit aufmerksamem Gesicht und mit jenem Erstaunen zu, das wir bei einem unerwarteten und seltsamen Anblick zeigen. Sie blickte mit einem leisen L\u00e4cheln auf ihre Freundin, die, in einer Ecke sitzend, in ihrer Besch\u00e4ftigung \u2013 sie reinigte einen Kamm \u2013 innehielt und ebenso aufmerksam dem neuen Prediger zuh\u00f6rte.\n\n\u00bbIch bin allerdings arm,\u00ab sagte Piskarjow nach einer langen, belehrenden Ermahnung, \u00bbwir werden aber arbeiten, wir werden uns bem\u00fchen, unser Leben zu verbessern. Es gibt nichts Angenehmeres, als alles nur sich selbst zu verdanken. Ich werde an meinen Bildern arbeiten, du wirst, an meiner Seite sitzend, mich zur Arbeit begeistern und dabei sticken oder irgendeine andere Handarbeit machen \u2013 so werden wir keinen Mangel leiden.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbUnm\u00f6glich!\u00ab unterbrach sie ihn mit einem Ausdruck von Verachtung. \u00bbIch bin keine W\u00e4scherin und keine N\u00e4herin, da\u00df ich arbeiten sollte.\u00ab\n\nGott, in diesen Worten kam ihr ganzes gemeines, ver\u00e4chtliches Wesen zum Ausdruck, das Leben voller Leere und M\u00fc\u00dfiggang, diesen beiden getreuen Begleitern des Lasters.\n\n\u00bbHeiraten Sie doch mich!\u00ab rief mit frecher Miene ihre Freundin, die bisher in der Ecke geschwiegen hatte. \u00bbWenn ich Ihre Frau geworden bin, so werde ich so sitzen!\u00ab Bei diesen Worten verzerrte sie ihr elendes Gesicht zu einer dummen Grimasse, die die Sch\u00f6ne zum Lachen brachte.\n\nAch, das war schon zu viel! Das ging \u00fcber seine Kraft! Er st\u00fcrzte hinaus, als h\u00e4tte er alle Gef\u00fchle und Gedanken verloren. Sein Verstand hatte sich getr\u00fcbt: er irrte den ganzen Tag durch die Stra\u00dfen, ohne Ziel, ohne etwas zu sehen, zu h\u00f6ren oder zu f\u00fchlen. Niemand wu\u00dfte, ob er irgendwo \u00fcbernachtet hatte oder nicht; von einem niedrigen Instinkt getrieben, kam er erst am n\u00e4chsten Tag, bla\u00df, in schrecklichem Zustande, mit zerzaustem Haar und mit dem Ausdruck von Wahnsinn im Gesicht in seine Wohnung zur\u00fcck. Er schlo\u00df sich in sein Zimmer ein, lie\u00df niemand herein und verlangte nichts.\n\nEs vergingen vier Tage, und die T\u00fcre seines Zimmers wurde noch immer nicht ge\u00f6ffnet; schlie\u00dflich war eine ganze Woche vergangen, \u2013 das Zimmer blieb immer noch verschlossen. Man st\u00fcrzte zu seiner T\u00fcre, man rief ihn, er gab aber keine Antwort; endlich brach man die T\u00fcre auf und fand seinen leblosen K\u00f6rper mit durchschnittener Kehle. Ein blutiges Rasiermesser lag auf dem Boden. An den krampfhaft ausgestreckten Armen und dem schrecklich verzerrten Gesichtsausdruck konnte man erkennen, da\u00df seine Hand gezittert und da\u00df er sich noch lange gequ\u00e4lt hatte, ehe seine s\u00fcndige Seele seinen Leib verlassen.\n\nSo ging das Opfer einer wahnsinnigen Leidenschaft, der arme Piskarjow zugrunde, der stille, sch\u00fcchterne, bescheidene, kindlich einf\u00e4ltige Mensch, der in sich einen Funken von Talent trug, das sich vielleicht mit der Zeit zu einer gro\u00dfen und hellen Flamme entwickelt haben w\u00fcrde. Niemand beweinte ihn; niemand zeigte sich bei seiner entseelten Leiche, au\u00dfer der gew\u00f6hnlichen Figur des Revieraufsehers und des gleichg\u00fcltigen Polizeiarztes. Sein Sarg wurde in aller Stille, sogar ohne irgendwelche Riten, auf die Ochta geschafft. Hinter ihm folgend, weinte nur ein einziger Mensch, ein alter Soldat, und das auch nur, weil er ein Glas Branntwein zu viel getrunken hatte. Sogar der Leutnant Pirogow kam nicht, um die Leiche des Ungl\u00fccklichen zu sehen, dem er bei Lebzeiten seine hohe Gunst erwiesen hatte. \u00dcbrigens hatte er ganz andere Dinge im Sinn: ihn besch\u00e4ftigte ein au\u00dferordentliches Erlebnis. Wollen wir uns aber ihm zuwenden.\n\nIch mag keine Leichen, und es ist mir immer unangenehm, wenn ich einem langen Leichenzuge begegne und ein alter, als eine Art Kapuziner verkleideter Soldat sich mit der linken Hand eine Prise nimmt, weil die Rechte die Fackel halten mu\u00df. Ich f\u00fchle immer \u00c4rger, wenn ich einen reichen Katafalk und einen mit Samt \u00fcberzogenen Sarg sehe; aber mein \u00c4rger vermischt sich mit Trauer, wenn ich sehe, wie auf einem Lastfuhrwerke ein gew\u00f6hnlicher, ungestrichener und unbedeckter Sarg eines armen Mannes gef\u00fchrt wird, dem nur irgendein armes Bettelweib, das ihm an einer Wegkreuzung begegnet, folgt, weil sie nichts anderes zu tun hat.\n\nIch glaube, wir haben den Leutnant Pirogow in dem Augenblick verlassen, wo er sich von dem armen Piskarjow trennte und der Blondine vor ihnen nacheilte. Diese Blondine war ein zierliches und recht interessantes kleines Gesch\u00f6pf. Sie blieb vor jedem Laden stehen und betrachtete die ausgestellten G\u00fcrtel, Halst\u00fccher, Ohrringe, Handschuhe und andere Bagatellen, sie drehte sich ununterbrochen hin und her, blickte nach allen Seiten und auch zur\u00fcck. \u203aDu meine Liebe!\u2039 sagte Pirogow, seiner selbst sicher, indem er die Verfolgung fortsetzte und das Gesicht mit dem Mantelkragen verdeckte, um nicht von einem seiner Bekannten gesehen zu werden. Aber es ist wohl nicht \u00fcberfl\u00fcssig, dem Leser zu melden, was f\u00fcr ein Mensch der Leutnant Pirogow war.\n\nBevor wir erkl\u00e4ren, was f\u00fcr ein Mensch der Leutnant Pirogow war, wollen wir einiges \u00fcber die Gesellschaft sagen, zu der Pirogow geh\u00f6rte.\n\nEs gibt Offiziere, die in Petersburg eine eigene, mittlere Gesellschaftsschicht darstellen. Bei einer Abendunterhaltung oder einem Diner im Hause eines Staatsrats oder wirklichen Staatsrats, der diesen Dienstrang nach vierzigj\u00e4hriger M\u00fche erlangt hat, kann man immer einen von ihnen treffen. Einige T\u00f6chter, so bleich und farblos wie Petersburg selbst, von denen einige schon \u00fcberreif sind, ein Teetisch, ein Klavier und eine h\u00e4usliche Tanzunterhaltung sind undenkbar ohne ein leuchtendes Epaulett, das beim Lampenlicht zwischen einer wohlerzogenen Blondine und dem schwarzen Frack eines Bruders oder eines Hausfreundes gl\u00e4nzt. Es ist au\u00dferordentlich schwer, so ein kaltbl\u00fctiges junges M\u00e4dchen in Stimmung und zum Lachen zu bringen; es geh\u00f6rt eine gro\u00dfe Kunst dazu, oder richtiger, gar keine Kunst. Man mu\u00df so sprechen, da\u00df es weder allzu klug, noch allzu komisch sei, und dabei stets an die Bagatellen denken, die die Frauen so lieben. Das mu\u00df man den erw\u00e4hnten Herren lassen: sie haben ein besonderes Talent, diese farblosen Sch\u00f6nen zum Lachen und zum Zuh\u00f6ren zu zwingen. Die vom Lachen erstickten Ausrufe: \u00bbAch, h\u00f6ren Sie auf! Sch\u00e4men Sie sich doch, einen so zum Lachen zu bringen!\u00ab sind oft ihr bester Lohn. In der h\u00f6heren Gesellschaft kommen sie nur selten vor, oder richtiger gesagt, nie. Hier sind sie ganz von den Menschen verdr\u00e4ngt, die man in dieser Gesellschaft Aristokraten nennt. Im \u00fcbrigen gelten sie als gebildete und wohlerzogene Menschen. Sie sprechen gerne \u00fcber die Literatur, loben Bulgarin, Puschkin und Gretsch und fertigen Orlow mit Verachtung und geistreichen Sticheleien ab. Sie vers\u00e4umen keinen einzigen \u00f6ffentlichen Vortrag, und wenn er auch nur von der Buchhaltung oder sogar vom Forstwesen handelt. Im Theater begegnet man ihnen bei jedem St\u00fcck, h\u00f6chstens solche St\u00fccke ausgenommen, die wie \u00bbFilatka\u00ab ihren w\u00e4hlerischen Geschmack verletzen.\n\nIm Theater sind sie immer anwesend. F\u00fcr die Theaterdirektion sind sie die n\u00fctzlichsten Menschen. Sie sch\u00e4tzen in den St\u00fckken haupts\u00e4chlich sch\u00f6ne Verse, und lieben es, die Schauspieler laut vor die Rampe zu rufen; viele von ihnen, die in staatlichen Lehranstalten unterrichten oder junge Leute zum Eintritt in diese Lehranstalten vorbereiten, schaffen sich zuletzt ein Kabriolett und ein Paar Pferde an. Dann wird ihr Wirkungskreis noch weiter; schlie\u00dflich bringen sie es so weit, da\u00df sie eine Kaufmannstochter heiraten, die Klavier zu spielen versteht, an die hunderttausend Rubel mitbekommt und eine Menge b\u00e4rtiger Verwandter hat. Diese Ehre k\u00f6nnen sie jedoch nicht fr\u00fcher erlangen, als bis sie es wenigstens zum Obersten gebracht haben, denn die russischen Kaufleute, deren B\u00e4rte immer noch etwas nach Sauerkohl riechen, wollen ihre T\u00f6chter unbedingt mit Gener\u00e4len oder wenigstens Obersten verheiratet sehen.\n\nDas sind die wichtigsten Charakterz\u00fcge der jungen Leute dieser Art. Der Leutnant Pirogow verf\u00fcgte aber au\u00dferdem noch \u00fcber eine Menge anderer Talente, die nur ihm allein eigen waren. Er deklamierte vorz\u00fcglich Verse aus dem \u00bbDmitrij Donskoi\u00ab und aus \u00bbVerstand schadet\u00ab und verstand ausgezeichnet, Rauchringe aus seiner Pfeife steigen zu lassen, von denen er zuweilen ganze zehn St\u00fcck aufeinanderreihen konnte. Er verstand auch sehr angenehm den bekannten Witz zu erz\u00e4hlen, da\u00df \u00bbdie Kanone ein Ding f\u00fcr sich und auch das Einhorn ein Ding f\u00fcr sich sei\u00ab.\n\nEs ist \u00fcbrigens ziemlich schwer, alle Talente aufzuz\u00e4hlen, mit denen das Schicksal den Leutnant Pirogow ausgestattet hatte. Er liebte es, \u00fcber eine Schauspielerin oder T\u00e4nzerin zu sprechen, dr\u00fcckte sich aber dabei viel weniger scharf aus, als \u00fcber dieses Thema junge F\u00e4hnriche gew\u00f6hnlich zu sprechen pflegen. Er war mit seinem Dienstrang, den er erst vor kurzem bekommen hatte, sehr zufrieden; er pflegte zwar manchmal, wenn er sich aufs Sofa legte, zu sagen: \u00bbAch, ach, ach! Alles ist eitel, was ist denn dabei, da\u00df ich Leutnant bin?\u00ab aber in seinem Inneren schmeichelte ihm doch seine neue W\u00fcrde; beim Gespr\u00e4ch versuchte er oft wie nebenbei darauf anzuspielen, und als er einmal auf der Stra\u00dfe einem Regimentsschreiber begegnete, der ihm nicht h\u00f6flich genug erschien, hielt er ihn sofort an und gab ihm in wenigen, aber eindringlichen Worten zu verstehen, da\u00df er einen Leutnant und nicht etwa einen anderen Offizier vor sich habe. Er bem\u00fchte sich, dies besonders sch\u00f6n auszudr\u00fccken, da in diesem Augenblick gerade zwei gar nicht \u00fcble Damen vorbeigingen. Pirogow hatte \u00fcberhaupt eine Leidenschaft f\u00fcr alles Sch\u00f6ne und erwies dem Maler Piskarjow seine Gunst; dies kam vielleicht auch daher, weil er zu gerne sein m\u00e4nnliches Antlitz auf einem Bilde abkonterfeit gesehen h\u00e4tte. Aber genug von den Eigenschaften Pirogows. Der Mensch ist ein so merkw\u00fcrdiges Gesch\u00f6pf, da\u00df es ganz unm\u00f6glich ist, alle seine Vorz\u00fcge auf einmal darzulegen; je genauer man ihn betrachtet, um so mehr neue Eigenschaften entdeckt man an ihm, so da\u00df man mit der Aufz\u00e4hlung nie zu Ende k\u00e4me. Pirogow verfolgte also unausgesetzt die Unbekannte und unterhielt sie ab und zu mit Fragen, die sie nur selten, kurz und mit unartikulierten Lauten beantwortete. Sie gelangten durch das nasse Kasantor in die Mjeschtschanskaja-Stra\u00dfe \u2013 die Stra\u00dfe der Tabak- und Kraml\u00e4den, der deutschen Handwerker und der finnischen Nymphen. Die Blondine beschleunigte ihre Schritte und schl\u00fcpfte in das Tor eines ziemlich schmierigen Hauses. Pirogow folgte ihr. Sie lief eine enge, dunkle Treppe hinauf und trat in eine T\u00fcr, durch die ihr auch Pirogow k\u00fchn folgte. Er sah sich in einem gro\u00dfen Zimmer mit schwarzen W\u00e4nden und verr\u00e4ucherter Decke. Auf dem Tische lag ein Haufen eiserner Schrauben, Schlosserwerkzeuge, gl\u00e4nzender Kaffeekannen und Leuchter; der Fu\u00dfboden war mit Messing- und Eisensp\u00e4nen bedeckt. Pirogow merkte sofort, da\u00df es die Wohnung eines Handwerkers war. Die Unbekannte flatterte grazi\u00f6s wie ein Vogel in eine Seitent\u00fcre. Pirogow besann sich einen Augenblick, entschlo\u00df sich aber dann, der russischen Regel zu folgen und weiter vorzudringen. Er kam in ein anderes Zimmer, das dem ersten gar nicht glich: es war sauber und ordentlich, was darauf hinwies, da\u00df der Wirt ein Deutscher war. Pirogow sah vor sich ein Bild, das ihn in Erstaunen versetzte. Vor ihm sa\u00df Schiller \u2013 nicht der Schiller, der den \u00bbWilhelm Tell\u00ab und die \u00bbGeschichte des Drei\u00dfigj\u00e4hrigen Krieges\u00ab geschrieben hatte, sondern der bekannte Klempnermeister Schiller aus der Mjeschtschanskaja-Stra\u00dfe. Neben Schiller stand Hoffmann, nicht der Dichter Hoffmann, sondern der recht t\u00fcchtige Schuhmachermeister aus der Offiziersstra\u00dfe, ein gro\u00dfer Freund Schillers. Schiller sa\u00df betrunken auf einem Stuhle, stampfte mit dem Fu\u00df und sprach etwas mit gro\u00dfem Eifer. Dies alles h\u00e4tte Pirogow noch nicht so sehr in Erstaunen gesetzt, wie die au\u00dferordentlich seltsame Stellung dieser beiden Personen. Schiller sa\u00df da mit erhobenem Kopf, die ziemlich dicke Nase vorgestreckt, und Hoffmann hielt diese Nase mit zwei Fingern fest und bewegte die Schneide seines Schuhmachermessers auf der Oberfl\u00e4che der Nase. Die beiden Herren sprachen deutsch, und darum konnte der Leutnant Pirogow, der von der deutschen Sprache nur \u00bbguten Morgen\u00ab verstand, von der ganzen Sache nichts verstehen. Schiller sagte \u00fcbrigens, heftig gestikulierend, folgendes: \u00bbIch will sie nicht, ich brauche die Nase nicht! Die Nase allein kostet mich drei Pfund Tabak im Monat. Ich zahle im schlechten russischen Laden, denn im deutschen Laden gibt es keinen russischen Tabak \u2013, ich zahle im schlechten russischen Laden f\u00fcr jedes Pfund vierzig Kopeken; das macht im Monat einen Rubel und zwanzig Kopeken; zw\u00f6lf mal ein Rubel zwanzig Kopeken macht vierzehn Rubel vierzig Kopeken. H\u00f6rst du, mein Freund Hoffmann? F\u00fcr die Nase allein schnupfe ich aber Rap\u00e9, denn ich will nicht an Feiertagen schlechten russischen Tabak schnupfen. Im Jahre verschnupfe ich zwei Pfund Rap\u00e9, zu zwei Rubel das Pfund. Sechs Rubel und vierzehn Rubel vierzig Kopeken macht zwanzig Rubel vierzig Kopeken f\u00fcr den Tabak allein! Das ist ja Raub am hellichten Tag! Ich frage dich, mein Freund Hoffmann, habe ich nicht recht?\u00ab Hoffmann, der auch selbst betrunken war, antwortete bejahend. \u2013 \u00bbZwanzig Rubel vierzig Kopeken! Ich bin ein Schwabe; ich habe in Deutschland einen K\u00f6nig. Ich will die Nase nicht! Schneide mir die Nase ab! Hier ist meine Nase!\u00ab\n\nWenn nicht das pl\u00f6tzliche Erscheinen des Leutnants Pirogow, so h\u00e4tte Hoffmann seinem Freund Schiller zweifellos so mir nichts, dir nichts die Nase abgeschnitten, denn er hielt das Messer schon so in der Hand, als wollte er eine Sohle zuschneiden.\n\nSchiller \u00e4rgerte sich sehr dar\u00fcber, da\u00df eine unbekannte, ungebetene Person so ungelegen dazwischenkam. Obwohl er sich im angenehmen Zustande des Bier- und Weinrausches befand, f\u00fchlte er doch, da\u00df die Anwesenheit eines fremden Zeugen in dieser Situation und bei dieser Besch\u00e4ftigung etwas unpassend sei. Pirogow machte indessen eine leichte Verbeugung und sagte mit dem ihm eigenen Anstand: \u00bbEntschuldigen Sie bitte...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbMarsch hinaus!\u00ab antwortete Schiller gedehnt.\n\nDies verdutzte den Leutnant Pirogow. Eine solche Behandlung war ihm ganz neu. Das L\u00e4cheln, das auf seinem Gesicht gespielt hatte, war pl\u00f6tzlich verschwunden. Er sagte mit dem Gef\u00fchl gekr\u00e4nkter W\u00fcrde: \u00bbEs kommt mir so merkw\u00fcrdig vor, mein Herr... Sie haben es wohl nicht bemerkt... ich bin Offizier...\u00ab\n\n\u00bbWas ist ein Offizier! Ich bin ein deutscher Schwabe. Ich selbst,\u00ab \u2013 Schiller schlug hierbei mit der Faust auf den Tisch \u2013 \u00bbich selbst werde Offizier sein: anderthalb Jahre Junker, zwei Jahre Leutnant, und ich bin gleich morgen Offizier. Aber ich will nicht dienen! Mit einem Offizier mache ich es so: pfff!\u00ab Schiller hielt sich bei diesen Worten die Hand vor den Mund und blies darauf.\n\nDer Leutnant Pirogow merkte, da\u00df ihm nichts anderes \u00fcbrig blieb, als sich zu entfernen; aber diese Behandlung, die f\u00fcr seinen Dienstgrad so beleidigend war, ber\u00fchrte ihn unangenehm. Er blieb auf der Treppe einige Male stehen, als wollte er Mut fassen und sich \u00fcberlegen, auf welche Weise er Schiller seine Frechheit heimzahlen k\u00f6nnte. Schlie\u00dflich sagte er sich, da\u00df er Schiller entschuldigen k\u00f6nne, da sein Kopf so von Bier- und Weind\u00e4mpfen angef\u00fcllt sei; zudem erinnerte er sich der h\u00fcbschen Blondine, und er entschlo\u00df sich, die Angelegenheit zu vergessen. Am n\u00e4chsten Tage erschien der Leutnant Pirogow fr\u00fch des Morgens in der Klempnerwerkst\u00e4tte Schillers. Im Vorzimmer empfing ihn die h\u00fcbsche Blondine und fragte mit ziemlich strenger Stimme, die zu ihrem Gesichtchen so gut pa\u00dfte: \u00bbWas w\u00fcnschen Sie?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAh, guten Morgen, meine Sch\u00f6ne! Haben Sie mich nicht erkannt? Dieser Schelm, diese h\u00fcbschen \u00c4uglein!\u00ab\n\nBei diesen Worten versuchte Pirogow mit artiger Geb\u00e4rde ihr Kinn zu fassen; aber die Blondine schrie erschrocken auf und fragte ebenso streng: \u00bbWas w\u00fcnschen Sie?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbNur Sie zu sehen, sonst w\u00fcnsche ich nichts,\u00ab sagte der Leutnant Pirogow mit einem recht liebensw\u00fcrdigen L\u00e4cheln und ging auf sie zu; als er aber merkte, da\u00df die scheue Blondine durch die T\u00fcre schl\u00fcpfen wollte, f\u00fcgte er hinzu: \u00bbMeine Liebe, ich mu\u00df mir Sporen machen lassen. K\u00f6nnen Sie mir Sporen anfertigen? Um Sie zu lieben, braucht man \u00fcbrigens keine Sporen, sondern eher einen Zaum. Was f\u00fcr h\u00fcbsche H\u00e4ndchen!\u00ab\n\nDer Leutnant Pirogow war bei Erkl\u00e4rungen dieser Art immer au\u00dfergew\u00f6hnlich liebensw\u00fcrdig.\n\n\u00bbIch will gleich meinen Mann rufen,\u00ab rief die Deutsche und ging hinaus. Nach ewigen Minuten erblickte Pirogow Schiller, der mit verschlafenen Augen vor ihn trat; er schien den gestrigen Rausch noch nicht ganz ausgeschlafen zu haben. Als er den Offizier erblickte, erinnerte er sich an die Vorg\u00e4nge von gestern wie an einen Traum. Seine Erinnerungen entsprachen zwar in keiner Weise der Wirklichkeit, aber er f\u00fchlte, da\u00df er irgendeine Dummheit begangen hatte, und trat daher dem Offizier mit sehr strenger Miene entgegen. \u00bbIch kann f\u00fcr die Sporen nicht weniger als f\u00fcnfzehn Rubel verlangen,\u00ab sagte er, um Pirogow loszuwerden, denn es war ihm, als einem ordentlichen Deutschen sehr unangenehm, einen Menschen vor sich zu haben, der ihn in einer unanst\u00e4ndigen Verfassung gesehen hatte. Schiller liebte es, ganz ohne Zeugen, mit nur zwei oder drei Freunden zu trinken und schlo\u00df sich sogar von seinen Gesellen ab.\n\n\u00bbWarum denn so teuer?\u00ab fragte Pirogow freundlich.\n\n\u00bbEs ist eben deutsche Arbeit,\u00ab versetzte Schiller kaltbl\u00fctig, sich das Kinn streichelnd. \u00bbEin Russe wird es wohl f\u00fcr zwei Rubel machen.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbSch\u00f6n, um Ihnen zu zeigen, da\u00df ich Sie liebe und Ihre Bekanntschaft machen m\u00f6chte, will ich die f\u00fcnfzehn Rubel bezahlen.\u00ab\n\nSchiller sann eine Minute lang nach: als ehrlicher Deutscher hatte er doch Gewissensbisse. Um Pirogow zu bewegen, den Auftrag zur\u00fcckzuziehen, erkl\u00e4rte er, er k\u00f6nne die Sporen nicht fr\u00fcher als in zwei Wochen herstellen. Aber Pirogow erkl\u00e4rte sich ohne Widerspruch damit einverstanden.\n\nDer Deutsche wurde wieder nachdenklich und \u00fcberlegte sich, wie diese Arbeit so auszuf\u00fchren, da\u00df sie wirklich f\u00fcnfzehn Rubel wert sei.\n\nIn diesem Augenblick trat die Blondine in die Werkst\u00e4tte und suchte etwas auf dem Tisch, auf dem die vielen Kaffeekannen standen. Der Leutnant benutzte Schillers Versunkenheit, ging auf sie zu und dr\u00fcckte ihren Arm, der bis zur Schulter entbl\u00f6\u00dft war.\n\nDas gefiel Schiller gar nicht. \u00bbFrau!\u00ab schrie er.\n\n\u00bbWas wollen Sie denn?\u00ab entgegnete die Blondine.\n\n\u00bbGeh in die K\u00fcche!\u00ab Die Blondine entfernte sich.\n\n\u00bbAlso in zwei Wochen?\u00ab sagte Pirogow.\n\n\u00bbJa, in zwei Wochen,\u00ab antwortete Schiller nachdenklich. \u00bbIch habe jetzt sehr viel Arbeit.\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAuf Wiedersehen, ich komme noch vorbei!\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAuf Wiedersehen!\u00ab antwortete Schiller und schlo\u00df hinter ihm die T\u00fcr.\n\nDer Leutnant Pirogow entschlo\u00df sich, seine Bem\u00fchungen nicht aufzugeben, obwohl ihn die Deutsche sehr energisch abwies. Er konnte gar nicht begreifen, da\u00df man ihm widerstehen k\u00f6nnte, um so weniger, als seine Liebensw\u00fcrdigkeit und sein hoher Rang ihm alles Recht auf Aufmerksamkeit verliehen. Es ist allerdings auch zu bemerken, da\u00df Schillers Frau bei ihrer Anmut sehr dumm war. \u00dcbrigens verleiht die Dummheit einer h\u00fcbschen Gattin einen besonderen Reiz. Ich habe jedenfalls viele M\u00e4nner gekannt, die \u00fcber die Dummheit ihrer Frauen entz\u00fcckt waren und in ihr alle Anzeichen kindlicher Unschuld sahen. Die Sch\u00f6nheit wirkt Wunder. Alle inneren M\u00e4ngel einer sch\u00f6nen Frau erscheinen nicht absto\u00dfend, sondern im Gegenteil besonders anziehend; sogar das Laster selbst atmet an ihnen Anmut; ist aber diese Anmut nicht vorhanden, so mu\u00df die Frau zwanzigmal kl\u00fcger sein als der Mann, um, wenn nicht Liebe, so doch wenigstens Achtung zu wecken. Schillers Frau war \u00fcbrigens, trotz ihrer Dummheit, ihrer Pflicht als Gattin treu, und darum fiel es Pirogow ziemlich schwer, bei seinem k\u00fchnen Unternehmen einen Erfolg zu erringen. Die \u00dcberwindung von Hindernissen ist aber immer mit einem eigenen Genu\u00df verbunden, und die Blondine wurde f\u00fcr ihn von Tag zu Tag interessanter: Er erkundigte sich recht oft nach seinen Sporen, und das wurde Schiller auf die Dauer l\u00e4stig. Er wandte alle M\u00fche an, um mit den Sporen fertig zu werden; endlich waren sie fertig.\n\n\u00bbAch, was f\u00fcr eine wunderbare Arbeit!\u00ab rief der Leutnant Pirogow, als er die Sporen sah. \u00bbGott, wie sch\u00f6n sind sie gemacht! Unser General besitzt keine solchen Sporen.\u00ab\n\nEin Gef\u00fchl von Selbstzufriedenheit ergriff Schillers Seele. Seine Augen blickten ziemlich vergn\u00fcgt, und er fing an, sich mit Pirogow innerlich auszus\u00f6hnen. \u2013 Der russische Offizier ist ein kluger Mann! \u2013 dachte er bei sich.\n\n\u00bbNicht wahr, Sie k\u00f6nnten mir auch eine Fassung f\u00fcr einen Dolch oder f\u00fcr einen anderen Gegenstand anfertigen?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbOh ja, gewi\u00df kann ich das!\u00ab antwortete Schiller mit einem L\u00e4cheln.\n\n\u00bbDann machen Sie mir eine Fassung f\u00fcr einen Dolch. Ich werde ihn Ihnen bringen. Ich habe einen guten t\u00fcrkischen Dolch, aber ich m\u00f6chte mir f\u00fcr ihn eine andere Fassung machen lassen.\u00ab\n\nDies wirkte auf Schiller wie eine Bombe. Er runzelte die Stirne. \u2013 Da haben wir es! \u2013 sagte er zu sich und verw\u00fcnschte sich innerlich, weil er diesen Auftrag selbst herausgefordert hatte. Er hielt es f\u00fcr unehrlich, ihn jetzt abzulehnen; au\u00dferdem hatte der russische Offizier seine Arbeit gelobt. \u2013 Er sch\u00fcttelte einigemal den Kopf und erkl\u00e4rte sich einverstanden; aber der Ku\u00df, den Pirogow beim Weggehen ganz frech der h\u00fcbschen Blondine mitten auf den Mund dr\u00fcckte, brachte ihn ganz aus der Fassung.\n\nIch halte es nicht f\u00fcr \u00fcberfl\u00fcssig, den Leser mit Schiller etwas n\u00e4her bekannt zu machen. Schiller war ein echter Deutscher im vollen Sinne des Wortes. Schon als Zwanzigj\u00e4hriger, in jenem gl\u00fccklichen Alter, wo der Russe in den Tag hinein zu leben pflegt, hatte Schiller sein ganzes Leben im voraus eingeteilt und wich dann von dieser Einteilung unter keinen Umst\u00e4nden ab. Er hatte sich vorgenommen, jeden Morgen um sieben Uhr aufzustehen, um zwei Uhr zu Mittag zu essen, in allen Dingen p\u00fcnktlich zu sein und sich jeden Sonntag zu betrinken. Er hatte sich vorgenommen, im Laufe von zehn Jahren ein Kapital von f\u00fcnfzigtausend Rubeln zusammenzusparen, und dieser Vorsatz war ebenso unab\u00e4nderlich wie das Schicksal selbst, denn eher wird der Beamte vergessen, in das Portierzimmer seines Vorgesetzten hineinzublicken, als da\u00df ein Deutscher sich entschlie\u00dft, seinen Vorsatz zu \u00e4ndern. Niemals und unter keinen Umst\u00e4nden \u00fcberschritt er die ein f\u00fcr allemal festgesetzten Auslagen, und wenn der Kartoffelpreis stieg, so gab er keine Kopeke mehr aus, sondern setzte nur das Quantum herab; er blieb dabei zwar etwas hungrig, aber er gew\u00f6hnte sich daran. Seine P\u00fcnktlichkeit ging so weit, da\u00df er sich vorgenommen hatte, seine Frau nicht mehr als zweimal im Laufe von vierundzwanzig Stunden zu k\u00fcssen; um diese Zahl einzuhalten, und ihr ja keinen \u00fcberz\u00e4hligen Ku\u00df zu geben, tat er nie mehr als einen Teel\u00f6ffel Pfeffer in seine Suppe; an Sonntagen wurde diese Regel \u00fcbrigens nicht so streng befolgt, denn Schiller trank an diesem Tage zwei Flaschen Bier und eine Flasche K\u00fcmmel, auf den er \u00fcbrigens immer schimpfte. Er trank ganz anders als ein Engl\u00e4nder, der gleich nach dem Mittagessen seine T\u00fcre zuriegelt und sich ganz allein betrinkt. Als Deutscher trank er vielmehr immer mit Begeisterung und in Gesellschaft des Schuhmachermeisters Hoffmann oder des Tischlermeisters Kunz, der ebenfalls ein Deutscher und ein gro\u00dfer S\u00e4ufer war. So war der Charakter des edlen Schiller, der schlie\u00dflich in eine \u00e4u\u00dferst schwierige Lage geraten war. Er war zwar Phlegmatiker und ein Deutscher, aber die Handlungsweise Pirogows erregte in ihm zuletzt etwas wie Eifersucht. Er zerbrach sich den Kopf und konnte doch nichts ausdenken, auf welche Weise er sich von diesem russischen Offizier befreien konnte. Pirogow rauchte indessen im Kreise seiner Kameraden die Pfeife \u2013 die Vorsehung selbst hat es schon einmal so eingerichtet, da\u00df Offiziere und Pfeife unzertrennlich sind \u2013 er rauchte also im Kreise seiner Kameraden die Pfeife und spielte mit bedeutungsvoller Miene und einem angenehmen L\u00e4cheln auf das Techtelmechtel mit einer h\u00fcbschen Deutschen an, mit der er schon sehr intim zu sein behauptete, w\u00e4hrend er in Wirklichkeit fast jede Hoffnung aufgegeben hatte, sie jemals zu erobern.\n\nEines Tages spazierte er durch die Mjeschtschanskaja und blickte immer wieder auf das Haus, an dem das Schild Schillers mit den Kaffeekannen und den Samowars prangte; zu seiner gr\u00f6\u00dften Freude erblickte er das K\u00f6pfchen der Blondine, die sich aus einem Fenster beugte und die Vor\u00fcbergehenden musterte. Er blieb stehen, warf einen Handku\u00df hinauf und rief: \u00bbGuten Morgen!\u00ab Die Blondine nickte ihm wie einem Bekannten zu.\n\n\u00bbIst Ihr Mann eigentlich zu Hause?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbEr ist zu Hause,\u00ab antwortete die Blondine.\n\n\u00bbUnd wann ist er nicht zu Hause?\u00ab\n\n\u00bbAn Sonntagen pflegt er nicht zu Hause zu sein,\u00ab antwortete die einf\u00e4ltige Blondine.\n\n\u2013 Das ist nicht schlecht \u2013 dachte Pirogow bei sich \u2013 diesen Umstand m\u00fc\u00dfte man ausn\u00fctzen. \u2013 Am folgenden Sonntag schneite er zu der Blondine ins Haus hinein. Schiller war tats\u00e4chlich nicht zu Hause. Die h\u00fcbsche Hausfrau erschrak; aber Pirogow ging diesmal sehr vorsichtig vor. Er behandelte sie mit dem gr\u00f6\u00dften Respekt und zeigte, indem er sich verbeugte, die ganze Sch\u00f6nheit seiner biegsamen, enggeschn\u00fcrten Taille. Er scherzte sehr nett und h\u00f6flich, aber die dumme Deutsche antwortete ihm auf alles sehr einsilbig. Nachdem er alles M\u00f6gliche versucht und eingesehen hatte, da\u00df er sie f\u00fcr nichts zu interessieren vermochte, machte er ihr schlie\u00dflich den Vorschlag, etwas zu tanzen. Die Deutsche erkl\u00e4rte sich damit augenblicklich einverstanden, denn alle deutschen Frauen und M\u00e4dchen tanzen \u00fcberaus gern. Pirogow gr\u00fcndete darauf viele Hoffnungen: erstens machte ihr das Vergn\u00fcgen; zweitens konnte er dabei seine ganze Gewandtheit und Geschicklichkeit zeigen; drittens kann man beim Tanzen leicht intim werden: man kann die h\u00fcbsche Deutsche umarmen und damit den Anfang machen; kurz, er hoffte auf einen vollst\u00e4ndigen Erfolg. Er fing an, eine Gavotte zu tr\u00e4llern, denn er wu\u00dfte, da\u00df man bei deutschen Frauen und M\u00e4dchen ganz allm\u00e4hlich vorgehen m\u00fcsse. Die h\u00fcbsche Deutsche trat in die Mitte des Zimmers und hob das sch\u00f6ne F\u00fc\u00dfchen. Diese Stellung entz\u00fcckte Pirogow derma\u00dfen, da\u00df er \u00fcber sie herfiel, um sie zu k\u00fcssen; die Deutsche fing zu schreien an und erh\u00f6hte dadurch ihren Reiz in den Augen Pirogows. Er \u00fcbersch\u00fcttete sie mit K\u00fcssen, als pl\u00f6tzlich die T\u00fcr aufging, und Schiller in Begleitung Hoffmanns und des Tischlermeisters Kunz ins Zimmer trat. Diese ehrw\u00fcrdigen Handwerker waren alle so betrunken wie die Schuster.\n\nAber... ich \u00fcberlasse es den Lesern selbst, sich den Zorn und die Entr\u00fcstung Schillers auszumalen.\n\n\u00bbRohling!\u00ab schrie er in h\u00f6chster Emp\u00f6rung: \u00bbWie wagst du es, meine Frau zu k\u00fcssen? Du bist ein Schuft und kein russischer Offizier. Hol mich der Teufel! Nicht wahr, mein Freund Hoffmann? Ich bin ein Deutscher und kein russisches Schwein.\u00ab (Hoffmann antwortete bejahend.) \u00bbOh, ich will keine H\u00f6rner tragen! Mein Freund Hoffmann, pack ihn am Kragen; ich will nicht!\u00ab fuhr er fort, heftig mit den H\u00e4nden fuchtelnd, wobei sein Gesicht dem roten Tuche seiner Weste \u00e4hnlich wurde. \u00bbIch lebe seit acht Jahren in Petersburg, ich habe in Schwaben eine Mutter und in N\u00fcrnberg einen Onkel; ich bin ein Deutscher und kein geh\u00f6rntes Rindvieh! Zieh ihm alles aus, mein Freund Hoffmann! Halt ihn an Armen und Beinen fest, mein Kamerad Kunz!\u00ab\n\nUnd die Deutschen packten Pirogow an Armen und Beinen.\n\nVergeblich versuchte er sich freizumachen; diese drei Handwerker waren die kr\u00e4ftigsten unter allen Petersburger Deutschen und behandelten ihn so roh und unh\u00f6flich, da\u00df ich, offen gestanden, gar keine Worte finde, um dieses beklagenswerte Ereignis zu schildern.\n\nIch bin \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df Schiller am n\u00e4chsten Tag von einem heftigen Fieber gesch\u00fcttelt wurde und wie ein Espenblatt zitterte, indem er jeden Augenblick das Erscheinen der Polizei erwartete, und da\u00df er Gott wei\u00df was alles daf\u00fcr gegeben h\u00e4tte, wenn das gestrige Erlebnis nur ein Traum gewesen w\u00e4re. Nun lie\u00df sich aber nichts mehr \u00e4ndern. Nichts l\u00e4\u00dft sich mit dem Zorn und der Emp\u00f6rung Pirogows vergleichen. Schon der blo\u00dfe Gedanke an die f\u00fcrchterliche Beschimpfung brachte ihn in Raserei. Sibirien und Knute hielt er f\u00fcr die geringste Strafe, die Schiller verdiente. Er eilte nach Hause, um sich umzuziehen und dann direkt zum General zu gehen und diesem in den grellsten Farben den von den deutschen Handwerkern ver\u00fcbten groben Unfug zu schildern. Zugleich wollte er auch eine schriftliche Anzeige beim Generalstab machen; und wenn die zudiktierte Strafe ungen\u00fcgend ausfiele, wollte er sich an noch h\u00f6here Instanzen wenden.\n\nAber die Sache endete doch sonderbar: auf dem Heimwege kehrte er in einer Konditorei ein, a\u00df zwei Bl\u00e4tterteigkuchen, las einiges in der \u00bbNordischen Biene\u00ab und verlie\u00df das Lokal mit weniger Zorn. Au\u00dferdem verf\u00fchrte ihn der recht angenehme k\u00fchle Abend, ein wenig durch den Newskij-Prospekt zu spazieren; um neun Uhr hatte er sich schon beruhigt und war zur Einsicht gekommen, da\u00df es nicht gut gehe, den General an einem Sonntag zu bel\u00e4stigen. Au\u00dferdem sei dieser zweifellos irgendwohin abberufen worden. Darum begab er sich zu einem Gesellschaftsabend bei einem Vorsitzenden einer Kontrollkommission, wo er eine recht angenehme Gesellschaft von vielen Beamten und Offizieren seines Regiments antraf. Dort verbrachte er vergn\u00fcgt den Abend und zeichnete sich bei der Mazurka so aus, da\u00df nicht nur die Damen, sondern auch die Herren entz\u00fcckt waren.\n\n\u2013 Wie wunderbar ist doch unsere Welt eingerichtet! \u2013 dachte ich mir, als ich vorgestern durch den Newskij-Prospekt schlenderte und mich dieser beiden Ereignisse erinnerte. \u2013 Wie seltsam, wie unfa\u00dfbar spielt doch unser Schicksal mit uns! Erlangen wir je das, was wir uns w\u00fcnschen? Erreichen wir das, wozu uns unsere Kr\u00e4fte zu bef\u00e4higen scheinen? Alles kommt immer anders. Dem einen hat das Schicksal die herrlichsten Pferde geschenkt, und er f\u00e4hrt mit ihnen gleichg\u00fcltig spazieren, ohne auf ihre Sch\u00f6nheit zu achten, w\u00e4hrend ein anderer, dessen Herz von Leidenschaft f\u00fcr Pferde gl\u00fcht, zu Fu\u00df gehen mu\u00df und sich damit begn\u00fcgt, da\u00df er mit der Zunge schnalzt, wenn an ihm ein sch\u00f6ner Traber vorbeigef\u00fchrt wird. Der eine hat einen vorz\u00fcglichen Koch, aber leider einen so kleinen Mund, da\u00df er nicht mehr als zwei St\u00fcckchen verzehren kann; der andere hat einen Mund in der Gr\u00f6\u00dfe des Schwibbogens am Generalstabsgeb\u00e4ude und mu\u00df sich leider mit einem deutschen Mittagessen aus Kartoffeln begn\u00fcgen. Wie seltsam spielt doch das Schicksal mit uns! \u2013 Am seltsamsten sind aber die Ereignisse, die sich auf dem Newskij-Prospekt abspielen. Oh, traut diesem Newskij-Prospekt nicht! Ich h\u00fclle mich immer in meinen Mantel, wenn ich \u00fcber ihn gehe, und bem\u00fche mich, die Gegenst\u00e4nde, denen ich begegne, gar nicht anzusehen. Alles ist Trug, alles ist Traum, alles ist ganz anders, als es erscheint! Ihr glaubt wohl, dieser Herr, der in dem vorz\u00fcglich gen\u00e4hten Rock spazieren geht, sei sehr reich? \u2013 keine Spur: er besteht nur aus seinem Rock. Ihr denkt wohl, da\u00df diese beiden dicken Herren, die vor der im Bau befindlichen Kirche stehengeblieben sind, \u00fcber ihre Architektur sprechen? \u2013 durchaus nicht: sie sprechen davon, wie merkw\u00fcrdig die beiden Kr\u00e4hen einander gegen\u00fcbersitzen. Ihr meint, dieser Enthusiast, der mit den H\u00e4nden fuchtelt, spr\u00e4che dar\u00fcber, da\u00df seine Frau aus dem Fenster mit einem Papierball auf einen ihm g\u00e4nzlich unbekannten Offizier geworfen habe? \u2013 durchaus nicht: er spricht \u00fcber Lafayette. Ihr glaubt, da\u00df diese Damen... aber den Damen soll man am allerwenigsten trauen. Schaut m\u00f6glichst wenig in die Schaufenster hinein: die Bagatellen, die da ausgestellt sind, sind wohl sch\u00f6n, schmecken aber nach einer furchtbaren Menge von Banknoten. Gott beh\u00fcte euch davor, den Damen unter die H\u00fcte zu blicken. Wie anziehend auch in der Ferne der Mantel einer Sch\u00f6nen des Abends weht, niemals werde ich ihr aus Neugierde folgen. Man gehe um Gotteswillen m\u00f6glichst weit von der Laterne weg! Man gehe an ihr so schnell als m\u00f6glich vor\u00fcber! Es ist noch ein Gl\u00fcck, wenn sie euch euren eleganten Rock mit ihrem stinkenden \u00d6l betropft. Aber auch abgesehen von der Laterne, alles atmet hier Betrug. Er l\u00fcgt zu jeder Stunde, dieser Newskij-Prospekt, am meisten aber dann, wenn die Nacht sich als dichte Masse \u00fcber ihn senkt und die wei\u00dfen und gelben Hausmauern hervortreten l\u00e4\u00dft, wenn die ganze Stadt dr\u00f6hnt und blitzt, wenn Myriaden von Equipagen sich \u00fcber die Br\u00fccken w\u00e4lzen, die Vorreiter schreien und im Sattel h\u00fcpfen, und wenn der D\u00e4mon selbst die Lampen entz\u00fcndet, nur um alles in einem falschen Lichte erscheinen zu lassen.\n\n## AUFZEICHNUNGEN EINES IRREN\n\n3. Oktober.\n\nHeute hat sich etwas Au\u00dfergew\u00f6hnliches ereignet. Ich stand des Morgens ziemlich sp\u00e4t auf, und als Mawra mir meine geputzten Stiefel brachte, fragte ich sie, wie sp\u00e4t es sei. Als ich h\u00f6rte, da\u00df es schon l\u00e4ngst zehn geschlagen habe, beeilte ich mich, mich anzukleiden. Offengestanden, ich w\u00e4re am liebsten gar nicht ins Departement gegangen, da ich schon wu\u00dfte, welch eine saure Miene unser Abteilungschef machen w\u00fcrde. Er pflegt mir schon seit l\u00e4ngerer Zeit zu sagen: \u00bbWas hast du f\u00fcr ein Durcheinander im Kopfe, mein Bester? Manchmal rennst du wie ein Irrsinniger herum, bringst die Akten so durcheinander, da\u00df der Satan selbst sich nicht auskennt, schreibst den Titel mit einem kleinen Anfangsbuchstaben und setzt weder Datum noch Nummer hin.\u00ab So ein verdammter Reiher! Er beneidet mich sicher, weil ich im Kabinett des Direktors sitze und f\u00fcr Seine Exzellenz die Federn zuschneide. Mit einem Worte, ich w\u00e4re gar nicht ins Departement gegangen, wenn nicht die Hoffnung, den Kassierer zu sehen und von diesem Juden wenigstens einen kleinen Vorschu\u00df auf mein Gehalt zu erbetteln. Das ist auch so ein Gesch\u00f6pf! Da\u00df er auch nur einmal das Gehalt f\u00fcr einen Monat vorausbezahlt \u2013 du lieber Gott, eher bricht das J\u00fcngste Gericht herein. Man mag ihn bitten, bis man zerspringt, und wenn man auch in der gr\u00f6\u00dften Klemme sitzt, der alte Teufel gibt keinen Pfennig her. Bei sich daheim l\u00e4\u00dft er sich aber von seiner eigenen K\u00f6chin ohrfeigen; da\u00df wei\u00df die ganze Welt. Ich sehe nicht ein, was es f\u00fcr einen Vorteil haben soll, im Departement zu dienen: man hat ja gar keine Einnahmen dabei. In der Gouvernementsverwaltung, in der Zivilkammer, im Rentamt ist es doch ganz anders: dort sitzt mancher Beamter in sch\u00e4bigem Frack, mit einer Fratze, die man anspucken m\u00f6chte, in seinem Winkelchen und schreibt, aber was sich der Kerl f\u00fcr eine Villa leistet! Mit einer vergoldeten Porzellantasse wage man sich an ihn gar nicht heran: \u00bbDas ist ja ein Geschenk f\u00fcr einen Doktor!\u00ab sagte er; man gebe ihm aber entweder ein Paar Traber, oder einen Wagen, oder einen Biberpelz im Werte von dreihundert Rubeln. Er sieht so bescheiden aus und spricht so zart: \u00bbLeihen Sie mir doch Ihr Messerchen, ich will mir ein Federchen zuschneiden,\u00ab \u2013 dabei rupft er aber den Bittsteller so, da\u00df ihm kein Hemd am Leibe bleibt. Freilich ist unser Dienst edler, alles ist von einer Sauberkeit, wie man sie in einer Gouvernementsverwaltung nie zu Gesicht bekommt, die Tische sind aus Mahagoni, und alle Vorgesetzten sagen zu einem \u00bbSie\u00ab... Ja, ich mu\u00df gestehen, wenn nicht dieser edle Dienst, so h\u00e4tte ich das Departement schon l\u00e4ngst verlassen.\n\nIch zog meinen alten Mantel an und nahm den Schirm, denn es regnete in Str\u00f6men. Auf den Stra\u00dfen war niemand; ich sah nur einige einfache Weiber, die ihre Rocksch\u00f6\u00dfe \u00fcber den Kopf geschlagen hatten, einige altrussische Kaufleute mit Regenschirmen und einige Kanzleidiener. Von besserem Publikum sah ich nur einen Beamten. Ich traf ihn an einer Stra\u00dfenecke. Als ich ihn erblickte, sagte ich mir: \u2013 Aha, mein Lieber, du gehst gar nicht ins Departement; du steigst jener Dame nach, die dort vorne l\u00e4uft, und schaust ihr auf die F\u00fc\u00dfchen. \u2013 Was f\u00fcr eine Bestie ist doch so ein Beamter! Er gibt selbst einem Offizier nichts nach: kaum sieht er so ein Wesen in einem H\u00fctchen, sofort hat er mit ihr angebandelt. Als ich mir dieses dachte, sah ich eine Equipage vor einem Laden halten, an dem ich gerade vor\u00fcberging. Ich erkannte sie sofort: es war die Equipage unseres Direktors. \u2013 Er hat in diesem Laden nichts zu suchen \u2013 dachte ich mir \u2013 es wird wohl seine Tochter sein. \u2013 Ich dr\u00fcckte mich an die Wand. Der Lakai \u00f6ffnete den Wagenschlag, sie h\u00fcpfte heraus wie ein V\u00f6gelchen. Wie bezaubernd blickte sie nach rechts und links und bewegte Brauen und Augen... Du lieber Gott, ich war verloren, ganz verloren!... Was braucht sie bei solchem Regen auszufahren! Nun soll mir einer sagen, da\u00df die Frauen keine Leidenschaft f\u00fcr Tand haben. Sie erkannte mich nicht, und auch ich bem\u00fchte mich, mich in meinen Mantel zu h\u00fcllen, um so mehr als ich einen schmierigen und altmodischen Mantel anhatte. Man tr\u00e4gt jetzt M\u00e4ntel mit einem langen Kragen, ich hatte aber einen mit mehreren kurzen Kr\u00e4gen an; auch ist das Tuch meines Mantels gar nicht dekatiert. Ihr H\u00fcndchen hatte nicht Zeit gehabt, in die Ladent\u00fcre zu schl\u00fcpfen, und blieb auf der Stra\u00dfe zur\u00fcck. Ich kenne dieses H\u00fcndchen. Es hei\u00dft Maggie. Es war noch keine Minute vergangen, als ich ein feines Stimmchen h\u00f6rte: \u00bbGuten Tag Maggie!\u00ab Du lieber Gott, wer spricht denn da? Ich sah mich um und erblickte zwei Damen, die unter einem Regenschirm gingen: eine alte und eine ganz junge; sie waren schon vorbeigegangen, ich h\u00f6rte aber neben mir wieder das Stimmchen: \u00bbDu solltest dich sch\u00e4men, Maggie!\u00ab Teufel nochmal: ich sah, da\u00df Maggie ein H\u00fcndchen beschn\u00fcffelte, das den beiden Damen folgte. \u2013 Aha! \u2013 dachte ich mir: \u2013 Bin ich auch nicht betrunken? Ich glaube aber, das passiert mit mir nur selten. \u2013 \u00bbNein, Fid\u00e8le, du irrst dich,\u00ab \u2013 ich sah mit eigenen Augen, da\u00df Maggie diese Worte sprach: \u00bbIch war, wau, wau, ich war, wau, wau, sehr krank.\u00ab Ach, dieses H\u00fcndchen! Offengestanden, ich war sehr erstaunt, als ich den Hund mit einer Menschenstimme sprechen h\u00f6rte; aber sp\u00e4ter, als ich mir alles \u00fcberdachte, h\u00f6rte ich auf, dar\u00fcber zu staunen. Es hat doch in der Welt tats\u00e4chlich eine Menge \u00e4hnlicher F\u00e4lle gegeben. Man sagt, in England sei ein Fisch ans Ufer geschwommen, der zwei Worte in einer merkw\u00fcrdigen Sprache gesagt habe, die die Gelehrten schon seit drei Jahren zu bestimmen suchen und noch immer nicht bestimmt haben. Ich habe in der Zeitung auch \u00fcber zwei K\u00fche gelesen, die in einen Laden kamen und ein Pfund Tee verlangten. Ich war aber noch viel mehr erstaunt, als Maggie sagte: \u00bbIch habe dir ja geschrieben, Fid\u00e8le; Polkan hat dir wahrscheinlich meinen Brief nicht \u00fcbergeben!\u00ab Teufel nochmal: Ich habe mein Lebtag noch nie geh\u00f6rt, da\u00df ein Hund schreiben kann. Richtig schreiben kann nur ein Edelmann. Allerdings pflegen auch Kaufleute, Ladengehilfen und sogar Leibeigene zu schreiben; aber ihr Schreiben ist meistens mechanisch: man findet darin weder Kommas, noch Punkte, noch einen Stil.\n\nDas setzte mich in Erstaunen. Ich gestehe, seit einiger Zeit h\u00f6re und sehe ich zuweilen solche Dinge, die noch kein Mensch gesehen und geh\u00f6rt hat. \u2013 Ich will mal diesem Hunde nachgehen, \u2013 sagte ich zu mir selbst, \u2013 und erfahren, wer er ist und was er sich denkt. \u2013 Ich machte meinen Schirm auf und folgte den beiden Damen. Wir durchquerten die Gorochowaja, bogen dann in die Mjeschtschanskaja, ein, dann in die Stoljarnaja, kamen zur Kokuschkin-Br\u00fccke und blieben schlie\u00dflich vor einem gro\u00dfen Hause stehen. \u2013 Dieses Haus kenne ich \u2013 sagte ich mir \u2013 es ist Swjerkows Haus. \u2013 So ein Ungeheuer von einem Haus! Was f\u00fcr Leute wohnen nicht alles darin: so viele K\u00f6chinnen, so viele Zugereiste! Von uns Beamten gibt es da aber so viele wie Hunde: der eine sitzt auf dem anderen und treibt den dritten an. Ich habe da auch einen Freund, der sehr gut Trompete spielt. Die Damen stiegen in den f\u00fcnften Stock hinauf. \u2013 Gut \u2013 dachte ich mir \u2013 heute gehe ich noch nicht hinauf, ich will mir nur das Haus merken und bei der n\u00e4chsten Gelegenheit daraus Nutzen ziehen. \u2013\n\n4. Oktober.\n\nHeute ist Mittwoch, und darum war ich bei unserem Direktor im Kabinett. Ich kam absichtlich etwas fr\u00fcher, setzte mich hin und schnitt alle Federn zurecht. Unser Direktor ist wahrscheinlich ein sehr kluger Mann. Sein Kabinett ist voller B\u00fccherschr\u00e4nke. Ich las die Titel einiger von ihnen: solch eine Gelehrsamkeit, da\u00df sich unsereins gar nicht heranwagen darf, alles entweder franz\u00f6sisch oder deutsch. Und wenn man ihm ins Gesicht blickt \u2013 du lieber Gott, was f\u00fcr eine W\u00fcrde leuchtet aus seinen Augen! Ich habe noch nie geh\u00f6rt, da\u00df er ein \u00fcberfl\u00fcssiges Wort gesagt h\u00e4tte. Wenn man zu ihm mit den Papieren kommt, fragt er nur: \u00bbWas f\u00fcr ein Wetter ist heute?\u00ab \u2013 \u00bbEs ist feucht, Euer Exzellenz!\u00ab Ja, er ist doch etwas anderes als unsereins! Ein Staatsmann. \u2013 Ich merke jedoch, da\u00df er mich besonders lieb hat und auch seine Tochter... Ach, verdammt!... Nichts, gar nichts, Schweigen! \u2013 Ich las in der \u00bbNordischen Biene\u00ab. Was f\u00fcr ein dummes Volk sind diese Franzosen! Was wollen sie denn eigentlich? Lieber Gott, ich w\u00fcrde sie alle hernehmen und mit Ruten z\u00fcchtigen! In der gleichen Zeitung las ich auch die Beschreibung eines Balles, die einen Kursker Gutsbesitzer zum Verfasser hat. Kursker Gutsbesitzer schreiben sehr sch\u00f6n. Da merkte ich, da\u00df es schon halb eins schlug, unser Direktor aber noch immer nicht aus seinem Schlafzimmer herausgekommen war. So um halb zwei ereignete sich etwas, was keine Feder zu beschreiben vermag. Die T\u00fcre ging auf, ich dachte, es sei der Direktor, und sprang mit den Papieren vom Stuhle auf; es war aber sie, sie selbst! Alle Heiligen, wie war sie gekleidet! Ihr Kleid war so wei\u00df wie ein Schwan, Gott, wie herrlich! Und als sie mich anblickte, so war es wie die Sonne! Bei Gott, wie die Sonne! Sie nickte mir zu und sagte: \u00bbWar Papa noch nicht hier?\u00ab Ach, ach, ach, diese Stimme! Ein Kanarienvogel, tats\u00e4chlich ein Kanarienvogel! \u00bbEure Exellenz,\u00ab wollte ich ihr sagen, \u00bblassen Sie mich nicht strafen, und wenn Sie mich schon strafen wollen, so strafen Sie mich mit Ihrem eigenen H\u00e4ndchen!\u00ab Aber meine Zunge versagte, und ich sagte nur: \u00bbNein, er war noch nicht hier.\u00ab Sie sah mich an, sah auf die B\u00fccher und lie\u00df ihr Taschentuch fallen. Ich st\u00fcrzte hin, um es aufzuheben, glitt auf dem verdammten Parkett aus und h\u00e4tte mir beinahe die Nase zerschlagen; aber ich hielt mich noch aufrecht und hob das Taschentuch auf. Alle Heiligen, was f\u00fcr ein Taschentuch! Der feinste Batist! Ambra, ganz wie Ambra! Er duftet f\u00f6rmlich nach dem Generalsrang! Sie dankte und l\u00e4chelte leise, so da\u00df ihre zuckers\u00fc\u00dfen Lippen sich fast gar nicht regten, und dann ging sie. Ich blieb noch eine Stunde lang sitzen, als pl\u00f6tzlich der Lakai eintrat und sagte: \u00bbGehen Sie, Aksentij Iwanowitsch, heim, der Herr ist schon aus dem Hause gegangen.\u00ab Ich kann dieses Lakaienvolk nicht ausstehen: Immer r\u00e4keln sie sich im Vorzimmer und geben sich nicht mal die M\u00fche, mit dem Kopf zu nicken. Und noch mehr als das: einer dieser Bestien fiel es einmal ein, mir, ohne vom Platze aufzustehen, eine Prise anzubieten. \u00bbWei\u00dft du denn nicht, du dummer Knecht, da\u00df ich ein Beamter und von adeliger Abstammung bin?\u00ab Ich nahm jedoch meinen Hut, zog selbst meinen Mantel an, denn diese Herren geben sich niemals die M\u00fche, einem in den Mantel zu helfen, und ging. Zu Hause lag ich fast die ganze Zeit auf dem Bett. Dann schrieb ich ein sehr h\u00fcbsches Gedicht ab: \u00bbLiebster Schatz blieb aus ein St\u00fcndchen, doch mir wars, als w\u00e4r's ein Jahr! Immer dacht ich an ihr M\u00fcndchen und ans seidenweiche Haar!\u00ab Das hat wohl Puschkin verfa\u00dft. Gegen Abend h\u00fcllte ich mich in meinen Mantel, ging vors Haus seiner Exzellenz und wartete, ob sie nicht erscheinen w\u00fcrde; aber sie erschien nicht.\n\n6. November.\n\nDer Abteilungschef brachte mich heute ganz aus der Fassung. Als ich ins Departement kam, rief er mich zu sich und sagte zu mir folgendes: \u00bbSag mir, bitte, was tust du eigentlich?\u00ab \u2013 \u00bbWas ich tue? Ich tue gar nichts.\u00ab \u2013 \u00bb\u00dcberlege es dir doch: du bist ja bald vierzig Jahre alt, es ist Zeit, da\u00df du Verstand annimmst. Was denkst du dir eigentlich? Glaubst du vielleicht, da\u00df ich deine Streiche nicht kenne? Du l\u00e4ufst ja der Tochter des Direktors nach. Schau dich selbst an und bedenke, was du bist! Du bist eine Null. Du hast keinen Heller. Betrachte wenigstens dein Gesicht im Spiegel, wie kannst du daran auch nur denken!\u00ab Hol ihn der Teufel! Weil sein Gesicht einige \u00c4hnlichkeit mit einer Apothekerflasche hat, weil er auf dem Kopfe einen gekr\u00e4uselten Haarschopf hat, weil er den Kopf hoch tr\u00e4gt und mit irgendeiner Rosenpomade schmiert, glaubt er, ihm allein sei alles erlaubt. Ich verstehe, warum er so b\u00f6se auf mich ist. Er beneidet mich. Vielleicht hat er schon gemerkt, da\u00df ich bevorzugt werde. Aber ich spucke auf ihn. Auch eine gro\u00dfe Sache \u2013 ein Hofrat! Hat sich eine goldene Uhrkette an den Bauch geh\u00e4ngt, l\u00e4\u00dft sich Stiefel zu drei\u00dfig Rubel das Paar machen \u2013 hol ihn der Teufel! Bin ich vielleicht von niederem Stande, stamme ich von einem Schneider oder von einem Unteroffizier ab? Ich bin ein Edelmann! Ich kann mich noch hinaufdienen. Ich bin nur zweiundvierzig Jahre alt, und in diesem Alter beginnt erst der richtige Dienst. Wart, Freundchen! Auch wir werden noch einmal Oberst sein und, so Gott will, vielleicht noch mehr. Auch wir werden uns eine Wohnung anschaffen, vielleicht eine bessere als die deinige. Was hast du dir in den Kopf gesetzt, da\u00df es au\u00dfer dir keinen anst\u00e4ndigen Menschen gibt. Wenn ich einen feinen Frack nach der neuesten Mode anziehe und mir eine Krawatte umbinde, wie du eine tr\u00e4gst, so reichst du nicht an meine Schuhsohle heran. Ich habe blo\u00df keine Mittel, das ist mein Ungl\u00fcck.\n\n8. November.\n\nIch war im Theater. Man spielte den \u00bbRussischen Narren Filatka\u00ab. Ich habe viel gelacht. Es gab noch eine Posse mit sehr lustigen Versen \u00fcber die Gerichtsschreiber, besonders \u00fcber einen gewissen Kollegien-Registrator; die Verse waren sehr frei, und ich mu\u00dfte mich wundern, da\u00df die Zensur sie hat passieren lassen; von den Kaufleuten hie\u00df es aber ganz offen, da\u00df sie das Volk betr\u00fcgen und da\u00df ihre S\u00f6hne tolle Streiche machen und nach dem Adelsstande streben. Es gab auch ein sehr am\u00fcsantes Couplet \u00fcber die Journalisten: diese schimpfen gerne auf alles, und der Autor bittet das Publikum um Schutz. Die Autoren schreiben heute sehr am\u00fcsante St\u00fccke. Ich besuche gerne das Theater. Wenn ich nur einen Groschen in der Tasche habe, kann ich mich nicht beherrschen und mu\u00df hinein. Unter unseren Beamten gibt es aber solche Schweine, die niemals ins Theater gehen; h\u00f6chstens, wenn man ihnen ein Billett schenkt. Eine Schauspielerin sang sehr sch\u00f6n. Ich mu\u00dfte an sie denken... Ach, verdammt!... Nichts, gar nichts... Schweigen.\n\n9. November.\n\nUm acht Uhr ging ich ins Departement. Der Abteilungschef tat so, als bemerkte er mein Erscheinen gar nicht. Auch ich meinerseits tat so, als w\u00e4re zwischen uns nichts vorgefallen. Ich sah die Akten durch und verglich sie miteinander. Um vier Uhr ging ich fort. Ich kam an der Wohnung des Direktors vorbei, aber es war niemand zu sehen. Nach dem Essen lag ich meistenteils wieder auf dem Bett.\n\n11. November.\n\nHeute sa\u00df ich im Kabinett unseres Direktors und schnitt f\u00fcr ihn dreiundzwanzig Federn und f\u00fcr sie... ei! ei!... f\u00fcr Ihre Exzellenz vier Federn. Er hat es sehr gern, wenn auf dem Tische m\u00f6glichst viel Federn bereitliegen. Gott, das mu\u00df ein Kopf sein! Er schweigt immer, aber im Kopfe, glaube ich, \u00fcberlegt er sich alles. Ich m\u00f6chte so gern wissen, wor\u00fcber er haupts\u00e4chlich denkt und was f\u00fcr Pl\u00e4ne in diesem Kopfe entstehen. Ich m\u00f6chte mir das Leben dieser Herren n\u00e4her ansehen, alle diese Equivoquen und Hofintrigen: wie sie sind und was sie in ihrem Kreise treiben, das m\u00f6chte ich wissen! Ich wollte schon einigemal ein Gespr\u00e4ch mit Seiner Exzellenz beginnen, aber die Zunge, hol sie der Teufel, versagte mir ihren Dienst; ich sagte blo\u00df, da\u00df es drau\u00dfen kalt oder warm sei, sonst konnte ich aber nichts mehr herausbringen. Ich m\u00f6chte so gern in den Salon hineinblicken, dessen T\u00fcre manchmal offen steht, und dann auch noch in ein anderes Zimmer, hinter dem Salon. Ach, diese reiche Einrichtung! Was f\u00fcr Spiegel und Porzellan! Ich m\u00f6chte so gerne auch in die Zimmer hineinblicken, die Ihre Exzellenz bewohnt, \u2013 da m\u00f6chte ich hineinschauen! Ins Boudoir, wo alle die D\u00f6schen, Gl\u00e4schen stehen, so zarte Blumen, da\u00df man gar nicht hinzuhauchen wagt, wo ihr Kleid liegt, das eher an Luft als an ein Kleid erinnert. Ich m\u00f6chte in ihr Schlafzimmer hineinblicken... dort sind wohl solche Wunder, dort ist solch ein Paradies, wie man es nicht einmal im Himmel findet. Ich m\u00f6chte das B\u00e4nkchen sehen, auf das sie, wenn sie vom Bette aufsteht, ihr F\u00fc\u00dfchen setzt, wie sie sich das schneewei\u00dfe Str\u00fcmpfchen anzieht... Ei! ei! ei! nichts, gar nichts... Schweigen.\n\nHeute ging mir pl\u00f6tzlich ein Licht auf: ich erinnerte mich an das Gespr\u00e4ch der beiden H\u00fcndchen, das ich auf dem Newskij-Prospekt geh\u00f6rt hatte. \u2013 Gut, \u2013 sagte ich mir, \u2013 jetzt werde ich alles erfahren. Ich mu\u00df nur die Briefe abfangen, die diese gemeinen Hunde einander schreiben. Aus ihnen werde ich wohl manches erfahren. \u2013 Offen gestanden, rief ich einmal Maggie zu mir heran und sagte ihr: \u00bbH\u00f6r einmal, Maggie, wir sind jetzt allein; wenn du willst, schlie\u00dfe ich auch die T\u00fcre ab, so da\u00df uns niemand sehen wird, \u2013 erz\u00e4hle mir alles, was du \u00fcber dein Fr\u00e4ulein wei\u00dft: was sie treibt und wie sie ist? Ich will dir schw\u00f6ren, da\u00df ich es niemand verraten werde.\u00ab Aber das listige Hundevieh zog den Schweif ein, duckte sich und ging leise aus dem Zimmer, als h\u00e4tte es nichts geh\u00f6rt. Ich habe schon l\u00e4ngst vermutet, da\u00df der Hund viel kl\u00fcger ist als der Mensch; ich bin sogar \u00fcberzeugt, da\u00df er zu sprechen versteht und es nur aus Trotz nicht tut. So ein Hund ist ein hervorragender Politiker: er merkt sich alles, jeden Schritt, den der Mensch tut. Nein; ich gehe morgen unbedingt in Swjerkows Haus, nehme Fid\u00e8le ins Gebet und eigne mir, wenn es geht, alle Briefe an, die Maggie ihr geschrieben.\n\n12. November.\n\nUm zwei Uhr ging ich aus, mit dem festen Vorsatz, Fid\u00e8le zu sehen und zu vernehmen. Ich verabscheue den Kohlgeruch, der aus allen Kramladen in der Mjeschtschanskaja dringt; au\u00dferdem kommt aus dem Torwege eines jeden Hauses ein so h\u00f6llischer Gestank, da\u00df ich mir die Nase zuhielt und, so schnell ich konnte, weiterlief. Auch diese verdammten Handwerker verpesten die Luft mit dem Ru\u00df und Rauch aus ihren Werkst\u00e4tten, so da\u00df ein anst\u00e4ndiger Mensch hier unm\u00f6glich Spazierengehen kann. Als ich in den sechsten Stock hinaufgestiegen war und gel\u00e4utet hatte, kam ein M\u00e4dchen heraus, gar nicht \u00fcbel von Aussehen, mit kleinen Sommersprossen im Gesicht. Ich erkannte sie: es war dieselbe, die damals mit der Alten ging. Sie err\u00f6tete leicht, und ich begriff sofort: Du willst wohl einen Mann, meine Liebe! \u2013 \u00bbWas w\u00fcnschen Sie?\u00ab fragte sie. \u2013 \u00bbIch mu\u00df mit Ihrem H\u00fcndchen sprechen.\u00ab Das M\u00e4del war dumm! Ich merkte sofort, da\u00df sie dumm war! Das H\u00fcndchen kam indessen selbst bellend hereingelaufen; ich wollte es packen, aber das garstige Vieh h\u00e4tte mich beinahe in die Nase gebissen. Ich erblickte jedoch in der Ecke den Korb, in dem der Hund zu schlafen pflegt. Ach, das ist doch alles, was ich brauche! Ich ging auf ihn zu, durchw\u00fchlte das Stroh und holte zu meinem unbeschreiblichen Vergn\u00fcgen ein kleines Papierb\u00fcndel hervor. Als das gemeine Hundevieh es sah, bi\u00df es mich erst in die Wade und begann, als es merkte, da\u00df ich seine Papiere genommen hatte, zu winseln und zu schmeicheln; ich aber sagte: \u00bbNein, mein Schatz, leb wohl!\u00ab und st\u00fcrzte hinaus. Ich glaube, das M\u00e4del hielt mich f\u00fcr verr\u00fcckt, denn es erschrak au\u00dferordentlich. Nach Hause zur\u00fcckgekehrt, wollte ich mich gleich an die Arbeit machen und die Briefe durchsehen, denn bei Kerzenlicht sehe ich nicht gut; der Mawra fiel es aber gerade ein, den Boden zu scheuern. Diese dummen Finnenweiber sind immer zur ungelegenen Zeit reinlich. Darum ging ich aus, um einen kleinen Spaziergang zu machen und mir den Fall zu \u00fcberlegen. Nun werde ich endlich alle Einzelheiten, alle Hintergedanken, alle geheimen Triebfedern kennen lernen und alles ergr\u00fcnden. Diese Briefe werden mir alles enth\u00fcllen. Die Hunde sind ein kluges Volk, sie kennen alle politischen Zusammenh\u00e4nge, und darum werde ich wohl auch alles N\u00e4here \u00fcber unseren Direktor finden: das Portr\u00e4t und alle Taten dieses Mannes. Es wird auch einiges \u00fcber sie darin stehen... nichts, Schweigen! Gegen Abend kam ich nach Hause. Lag die meiste Zeit auf dem Bett.\n\n13. November.\n\nNun, wollen wir mal sehen! Der Brief ist recht leserlich, in der Schrift liegt aber etwas H\u00fcndisches. Lesen wir ihn einmal:\n\n\u00bbLiebe Fid\u00e8le! Ich kann mich noch immer nicht an deinen kleinb\u00fcrgerlichen Namen gew\u00f6hnen. Konnte man dir denn wirklich keinen besseren geben? Fid\u00e8le, Rosa, was f\u00fcr ein banaler Ton! Aber lassen wir das alles beiseite. Ich freue mich sehr, da\u00df es uns eingefallen ist, einander zu schreiben.\u00ab\n\nDer Brief ist ziemlich korrekt geschrieben. Die Interpunktionszeichen und sogar der Buchstabe \u00bbjatj\u00ab stehen immer auf dem richtigen Platz. Ich glaube gar, selbst unser Abteilungsvorstand kann nicht so korrekt schreiben, obwohl er behauptet, irgendwo eine Universit\u00e4t besucht zu haben. Sehen wir mal weiter.\n\n\u00bbMir scheint, es geh\u00f6rt zu den gr\u00f6\u00dften Freuden im Leben, seine Gedanken, Gef\u00fchle und Eindr\u00fccke mit einem anderen teilen zu k\u00f6nnen.\u00ab\n\nHm!... Dieser Gedanke ist einem aus dem Deutschen \u00fcbersetzten Werke entnommen. Auf den Titel kann ich mich nicht besinnen.\n\n\u00bbIch sage das aus Erfahrung, obwohl ich in der Welt nicht weiter als bis vor unser Haustor herumgelaufen bin. Lebe ich nicht in h\u00f6chster Zufriedenheit? Mein Fr\u00e4ulein, das der Papa Sophie nennt, liebt mich bis zur Bewu\u00dftlosigkeit.\u00ab\n\nEi, ei!... nichts, gar nichts! Schweigen!\n\n\u00bbAuch der Papa liebkost mich sehr oft. Ich trinke Tee und Kaffee mit Sahne. Ach, _ma ch\u00e8re_ , ich mu\u00df dir sagen, da\u00df ich gar kein Vergn\u00fcgen an den gro\u00dfen abgenagten Knochen finde, die unser Polkan in der K\u00fcche fri\u00dft. Knochen sind nur gut vom Wild und auch das nur, wenn noch niemand das Mark aus ihnen herausgesogen hat. Es ist sehr gut, mehrere Saucen durcheinanderzumischen, doch nur solche ohne Kapern und ohne Gr\u00fcnzeug; aber ich kenne nichts Schlimmeres als die Angewohnheit, den Hunden aus Brot geknetete K\u00fcgelchen zu geben. Da beginnt irgendein Herr, der bei Tische sitzt und allerlei Zeug in seinen H\u00e4nden gehalten hat, mit diesen selben H\u00e4nden Brot zu kneten; dann ruft er dich heran und schiebt dir so ein K\u00fcgelchen ins Maul. Es nicht annehmen w\u00e4re unh\u00f6flich, \u2013 so fri\u00dft man es, obgleich mit Ekel, aber man fri\u00dft es doch...\u00ab\n\nWei\u00df der Teufel, was das ist! So ein Unsinn! Als ob es keinen besseren Gegenstand g\u00e4be, \u00fcber den man schreiben k\u00f6nnte. Schauen wir mal auf der n\u00e4chsten Seite nach, vielleicht steht dort etwas Vern\u00fcnftigeres.\n\n\u00bb... Ich will dich sehr gerne \u00fcber alle Ereignisse unterrichten, die sich bei uns abspielen. Ich habe dir schon einiges \u00fcber den wichtigsten Herrn erz\u00e4hlt, den Sophie Papa nennt. Er ist ein sehr sonderbarer Mensch...\u00ab\n\nAha, da ist es endlich! Ja, ich habe es gewu\u00dft: sie haben einen politischen Blick f\u00fcr alle Dinge. Sehen wir mal nach, was da \u00fcber den Papa steht.\n\n\u00bb... ein sehr sonderbarer Mensch. Er schweigt meistens und redet nur sehr selten. Aber vor einer Woche sprach er fortw\u00e4hrend mit sich selbst: \u203aWerde ich ihn kriegen oder werde ich ihn nicht kriegen?\u2039 Oder er nimmt in die eine Hand ein St\u00fcck Papier, ballt die andere leer zusammen und fragt: \u203aWerde ich ihn kriegen oder werde ich ihn nicht kriegen?\u2039 Einmal wandte er sich auch an mich mit der Frage: \u203aWie glaubst du, Maggie, werde ich ihn kriegen oder nicht kriegen?\u2039 Ich konnte absolut nichts verstehen! Ich beschn\u00fcffelte nur seinen Stiefel und ging fort. Sp\u00e4ter, _ma ch\u00e8re_ , nach einer Woche kam der Papa hocherfreut heim. Den ganzen Vormittag besuchten ihn Herren in Galauniformen und gratulierten ihm zu etwas. Bei Tisch war er so aufger\u00e4umt, wie ich ihn noch nie gesehen habe, und erz\u00e4hlte immer Witze. Nach Tisch hob er mich aber zu seinem Hals und sagte: \u203aSchau mal, Maggie, was ist denn das?\u2039 Ich sah nur ein B\u00e4ndchen. Ich beschn\u00fcffelte es, konnte aber gar keinen Duft wahrnehmen; schlie\u00dflich leckte ich vorsichtig daran: es schmeckte etwas salzig.\u00ab\n\nHm! Dieses Hundevieh erlaubt sich, scheint mir, etwas zu viel... da\u00df es nur keine Schl\u00e4ge kriegt! Er ist also ehrgeizig! Das mu\u00df ich mir merken.\n\n\u00bb... Leb wohl, _ma ch\u00e8re_! Ich mu\u00df laufen usw. usw.... Morgen schreibe ich den Brief fertig. \u2013 Nun, guten Tag! Ich bin wieder mit dir. Heute war mein Fr\u00e4ulein Sophie...\u00ab\n\nAh! Sehen wir mal, was mit Sophie los war. Diese Gemeinheit! Nichts, gar nichts... fahren wir fort.\n\n\u00bb... war mein Fr\u00e4ulein Sophie in au\u00dferordentlicher Aufregung. Sie r\u00fcstete sich zu einem Ball, und ich freute mich sehr, da\u00df ich dir in ihrer Abwesenheit schreiben kann. Meine Sophie ist immer sehr froh, wenn sie auf einen Ball gehen kann, obwohl sie sich beim Ankleiden fast immer \u00e4rgert. Ich kann nicht verstehen, warum sich die Menschen ankleiden. Warum laufen sie nicht einfach so herum wie z.B. wir? So ist es so gut und bequem. Ich verstehe auch nicht, was das f\u00fcr ein Vergn\u00fcgen ist, auf einen Ball zu gehen, _ma ch\u00e8re_. Sophie kommt von einem Ball immer erst gegen sechs Uhr fr\u00fch heim, und ich erkenne fast immer an ihrem blassen, elenden Aussehen, da\u00df man der \u00c4rmsten nichts zu essen gegeben hat. Ich mu\u00df gestehen, ich k\u00f6nnte so nicht leben. Wenn ich keine Sauce mit Rebhuhn oder keinen gebratenen H\u00fchnerfl\u00fcgel bek\u00e4me, so... so wei\u00df ich wirklich nicht, was mit mir gesch\u00e4he. Auch Sauce mit Gr\u00fctze schmeckt nicht schlecht; aber gelbe oder wei\u00dfe R\u00fcben oder Artischocken werden mir niemals gefallen.\u00ab\n\nEin auffallend ungleichm\u00e4\u00dfiger Stil! Man sieht gleich, da\u00df es kein Mensch geschrieben hat: er f\u00e4ngt an, wie es sich geh\u00f6rt, und schlie\u00dft ganz h\u00fcndisch. Sehen wir uns noch dieses Brieflein an. Es ist etwas lang. Hm! Es steht auch kein Datum dabei.\n\n\u00bbAch, Liebste, wie deutlich l\u00e4\u00dft sich das Nahen des Fr\u00fchlings f\u00fchlen. Mein Herz klopft so, als erwarte es jemand. In meinen Ohren ist ein ewiges Rauschen, so da\u00df ich oft minutenlang mit erhobenem Beinchen lauschend an der T\u00fcr stehe. Ich will dir er\u00f6ffnen, da\u00df ich viele Verehrer habe. Oft sitze ich auf der Fensterbank und betrachte sie. Ach, wenn du w\u00fc\u00dftest, was es f\u00fcr Scheusale unter ihnen gibt! Mancher ungeschlachte K\u00f6ter, dem die Dummheit im Gesicht geschrieben steht, geht wichtig \u00fcber die Stra\u00dfe und bildet sich ein, er sei eine h\u00f6chst vornehme Person und alle m\u00fc\u00dften ihn bewundern. Keine Spur! Ich schenkte ihm nicht die geringste Beachtung und tat so, als h\u00e4tte ich ihn \u00fcberhaupt nicht gesehen. Und was f\u00fcr eine schreckliche Dogge bleibt manchmal vor meinem Fenster stehen! H\u00e4tte sie sich auf die Hinterbeine gestellt, was das rohe Vieh wohl gar nicht kann, so w\u00e4re sie um einen Kopf gr\u00f6\u00dfer als der Papa meiner Sophie, der doch recht gro\u00df gewachsen und auch dick ist. Diese dumme Dogge ist sicher ein furchtbar frecher Kerl. Ich knurrte sie an, aber sie machte sich nichts draus, und verzog keine Miene! Sie streckte nur die Zunge heraus, lie\u00df die m\u00e4chtigen Ohren h\u00e4ngen und blickte in mein Fenster hinauf, \u2013 so ein Bauer! Aber glaubst du denn wirklich, _ma ch\u00e8re_ , da\u00df mein Herz f\u00fcr all dies Werben unempfindlich sei? Ach, nein... H\u00e4ttest du nur einen gewissen Kavalier gesehen, der \u00fcber den Zaun des Nachbarhauses geklettert kommt und Tresor hei\u00dft... Ach, _ma ch\u00e8re_ , was er f\u00fcr ein Schn\u00e4uzchen hat!...\u00ab\n\nPfui, zum Teufel!... Solches Gesudel! Wie kann man nur seine Briefe mit solchen Dummheiten anf\u00fcllen! Man zeige mir einen Menschen! Ich will einen Menschen sehen, mich verlangt nach geistiger R\u00fchrung, die meine Seele speist und erg\u00f6tzt; statt dessen aber dieser Unsinn... Wenden wir die Seite um, vielleicht wird es besser?\n\n\u00bb... Sophie sa\u00df am kleinen Tisch und n\u00e4hte etwas. Ich blickte zum Fenster hinaus, denn ich beobachte gern die Passanten; pl\u00f6tzlich trat der Diener herein und meldete: \u203aHerr Teplow!\u2039 \u2013 \u203aIch lasse bitten!\u2039 rief Sophie und fing an, mich zu umarmen. \u203aAch, Maggie, Maggie! Wenn du nur w\u00fc\u00dftest, wer das ist: er ist br\u00fcnett und Kammerjunker und hat Augen so schwarz wie Achat!\u2039 Und Sophie lief in ihr Zimmer. Einen Augenblick sp\u00e4ter erschien ein junger Kammerjunker mit schwarzem Backenbart; er trat vor den Spiegel, brachte sein Haar in Ordnung und sah sich im Zimmer um. Ich knurrte eine Weile und setzte mich dann auf meinen Platz. Sophie kam bald wieder und beantwortete seinen Kratzfu\u00df mit einem vergn\u00fcgten Nicken; ich tat aber so, als bemerkte ich nichts, und sah ruhig zum Fenster hinaus; aber ich neigte meinen Kopf etwas zur Seite und gab mir M\u00fche zu h\u00f6ren, was sie sprachen. Ach, _ma ch\u00e8re_ , was f\u00fcr dummes Zeug redeten sie zusammen! Sie sprachen davon, da\u00df eine Dame beim Tanz statt der einen Figur eine andere gemacht habe; da\u00df irgendein Herr Bobow in seinem Jabot ganz wie ein Storch ausgesehen h\u00e4tte und beinahe hingeplumpst w\u00e4re! da\u00df irgendeine Frau Lidina sich einbilde, blaue Augen zu haben, w\u00e4hrend sie in Wirklichkeit gr\u00fcne habe, und dergleichen mehr. Wenn man diesen Kammerjunker mit meinem Tresor vergleichen wollte! dachte ich mir. Du lieber Himmel, dieser Unterschied! Erstens hat der Kammerjunker ein vollkommen glattes, breites Gesicht mit einem Backenbart ringsherum, es sieht aus, als h\u00e4tte er sich das Gesicht mit einem schwarzen Tuch umbunden; Tresor hat aber ein feines Schn\u00e4uzchen und eine kleine wei\u00dfe Stelle mitten auf der Stirn. Tresors Taille kann man mit der des Kammerjunkers gar nicht vergleichen. Wie anders sind auch die Augen, die Manieren, das ganze Benehmen. Ach, welch ein Unterschied! Ich wei\u00df nicht, _ma ch\u00e8re_ , was sie an ihrem Teplow gefunden hat. Warum ist sie so entz\u00fcckt von ihm?...\u00ab\n\nAuch mir scheint, da\u00df hier etwas nicht stimmt. Es kann nicht sein, da\u00df Teplow sie so bezaubert hat. Lesen wir weiter:\n\n\u00bbMir scheint, wenn ihr dieser Kammerjunker gef\u00e4llt, so wird ihr auch bald der Beamte gefallen, der beim Papa im Kabinett zu sitzen pflegt. Ach, _ma ch\u00e8re_ , wenn du nur w\u00fc\u00dftest, was das f\u00fcr ein Scheusal ist! Ganz wie eine Schildkr\u00f6te in einem Sack...\u00ab\n\nWas mag das wohl f\u00fcr ein Beamter sein?...\n\n\u00bbSein Familienname klingt sehr merkw\u00fcrdig. Er sitzt immer da und schneidet die Federn zurecht. Das Haar auf seinem Kopfe hat gro\u00dfe \u00c4hnlichkeit mit Heu. Der Papa verwendet ihn manchmal zu Boteng\u00e4ngen...\u00ab\n\nMir scheint, dieses gemeine Hundevieh spielt auf mich an. Aber ist denn mein Haar wie Heu?\n\n\u00bbSophie kann sich gar nicht des Lachens enthalten, wenn sie ihn ansieht.\u00ab\n\nDu l\u00fcgst, verdammtes Hundevieh! So eine b\u00f6se Zunge! Als ob ich nicht w\u00fc\u00dfte, da\u00df es nichts als Neid ist! Als ob ich nicht w\u00fc\u00dfte, wessen Streiche es sind! Es sind Streiche des Abteilungsvorstandes. Hat doch dieser Mensch mir ewigen Ha\u00df geschworen, und so schadet er mir auf Schritt und Tritt. Sehen wir uns indessen noch einen Brief an. Vielleicht kl\u00e4rt sich dann die Sache von selbst.\n\n_\u00bbMa ch\u00e8re_ Fid\u00e8le, entschuldige, da\u00df ich so lange nicht geschrieben habe. Ich war wie in einem Rausch. Wie richtig hat doch ein Dichter gesagt, die Liebe sei ein zweites Leben. Au\u00dferdem gibt es bei uns im Hause gro\u00dfe Ver\u00e4nderungen. Der Kammerjunker sitzt jetzt bei uns jeden Tag. Sophie ist wahnsinnig in ihn verliebt. Papa ist sehr vergn\u00fcgt. Ich h\u00f6rte sogar von unserem Grigorij, der den Boden kehrt und fast immer mit sich selbst spricht, da\u00df die Hochzeit bald stattfinden werde, denn der Papa wolle Sophie durchaus mit einem General oder einem Kammerjunker oder einem Oberst verheiratet sehen...\u00ab\n\nHol's der Teufel! Ich kann nicht weiter lesen... Immer ist's ein Kammerjunker oder ein General. Alles Beste, was es auf der Welt gibt, f\u00e4llt immer den Kammerjunkern oder den Gener\u00e4len zu. Hol's der Teufel! Wie gerne m\u00f6chte auch ich General werden, doch nicht um ihre Hand usw. zu erlangen, \u2013 nein, ich m\u00f6chte nur deshalb General werden, um zu sehen, wie sie vor mir scharwenzeln und alle diese h\u00f6fischen Kunstst\u00fccke und Manieren zeigen werden, und um ihnen dann zu sagen, da\u00df ich auf sie beide spucke. Hol's der Teufel, es ist \u00e4rgerlich! Ich habe die Briefe dieses dummen Hundes in St\u00fccke gerissen.\n\n3. Dezember.\n\nEs kann nicht sein, es ist erlogen! Es wird nie zu einer Hochzeit kommen! Was ist denn dabei, da\u00df er Kammerjunker ist? Das ist ja doch nur ein Titel und keine sichtbare Sache, die man in die Hand nehmen k\u00f6nnte. Weil er Kammerjunker ist, hat er doch kein drittes Auge auf der Stirn. Seine Nase ist doch auch nicht aus Gold gemacht, sondern genau so wie die meine und wie die eines jeden Menschen; er riecht doch und i\u00dft nicht mit ihr, er niest mit ihr und hustet nicht. Ich wollte schon einigemal dahinter kommen, worauf alle diese Unterschiede beruhen. Warum bin ich Titularrat und woraus folgt, da\u00df ich Titularrat bin? Vielleicht bin ich gar kein Titularrat? Vielleicht bin ich ein Graf oder ein General und sehe nur wie ein Titularrat aus. Vielleicht wei\u00df ich selbst noch nicht, wer ich bin. Es gibt doch so viele Beispiele in der Weltgeschichte: ein ganz einfacher Mensch, nicht einmal ein Adliger sondern ein Kleinb\u00fcrger oder sogar Bauer entpuppt sich pl\u00f6tzlich als hoher W\u00fcrdentr\u00e4ger als ein Baron oder wie hei\u00dft es noch... Wenn aus einem Bauern so etwas werden kann, was kann dann alles aus einem Edelmann werden? Da komme ich z.B. in Generalsuniform zu unserm Chef: auf der rechten Schulter habe ich eine Epaulette, auf der linken Schulter eine Epaulette, ein blaues Band \u00fcber die Achsel, \u2013 nun, was wird dann meine Sch\u00f6ne sagen? Was wird ihr Papa, unser Direktor sagen? Oh, er ist doch sehr ehrgeizig! Er ist ein Freimaurer, ganz gewi\u00df ein Freimaurer; er tut zwar so, als w\u00e4re er dies und jenes, aber ich habe es gleich bemerkt, da\u00df er ein Freimaurer ist: wenn er jemand die Hand reicht, so streckt er nur zwei Finger aus. Kann ich denn nicht jetzt gleich in diesem Augenblick zum General-Gouverneur, oder zum Intendanten oder zu etwas \u00c4hnlichem ernannt werden? Ich m\u00f6chte gerne wissen, warum ich Titularrat bin? Warum gerade Titularrat?\n\n5. Dezember.\n\nIch las heute den ganzen Vormittag Zeitungen. Merkw\u00fcrdige Dinge gehen in Spanien vor. Ich kann mich in ihnen so gar nicht ordentlich zurechtfinden. Man schreibt, der Thron sei erledigt, und die St\u00e4nde h\u00e4tten wegen der Wahl eines Thronfolgers Schwierigkeiten; darum g\u00e4be es Aufst\u00e4nde. Dies kommt mir au\u00dferordentlich seltsam vor. Wie kann blo\u00df der Thron erledigt sein? Man sagt, irgendeine Donna werde den Thron besteigen m\u00fcssen. Aber eine Donna kann den Thron nicht besteigen, es ist ganz unm\u00f6glich. Auf dem Throne mu\u00df doch ein K\u00f6nig sitzen. \u00bbAber es gibt keinen K\u00f6nig,\u00ab sagen die Leute. Es kann doch nicht sein, da\u00df es keinen K\u00f6nig gibt. Ein Staat kann nicht ohne einen K\u00f6nig bestehen. Es gibt wohl einen K\u00f6nig, er h\u00e4lt sich aber wohl irgendwo unerkannt auf. Vielleicht befindet er sich sogar dort an Ort und Stelle, aber irgendwelche Familiengr\u00fcnde oder Bef\u00fcrchtungen seitens der Nachbarstaaten wie Frankreich und der anderen zwingen ihn, sich verborgen zu halten, oder es gibt irgendwelche andere Ursachen.\n\n8. Dezember.\n\nIch war schon bereit, ins Departement zu gehen, aber verschiedene Gr\u00fcnde und Erw\u00e4gungen hielten mich davon ab. Die spanischen Angelegenheiten wollten mir nicht aus dem Sinn. Wie kann es nur sein, da\u00df eine Donna K\u00f6nigin wird? Man wird es nicht zulassen. Erstens wird es England nicht gestatten. Dazu auch die politische Lage von ganz Europa, der Kaiser von \u00d6sterreich, unser Kaiser... Ich mu\u00df gestehen, alle diese Ereignisse haben mich derma\u00dfen ersch\u00fcttert, da\u00df ich den ganzen Tag gar nichts tun konnte. Mawra sagte mir, ich sei bei Tisch \u00e4u\u00dferst zerstreut gewesen. Ich glaube, ich habe in meiner Zerstreutheit tats\u00e4chlich zwei Teller auf den Boden geschmissen, die auch zerbrachen. Nach dem Essen ging ich zu der Rutschbahn, konnte aber aus dem Schauspiel nichts Belehrendes sch\u00f6pfen. Die meiste Zeit lag ich zu Bett und dachte \u00fcber die spanischen Angelegenheiten nach.\n\nIm Jahre 2000, d. 43. April.\n\nDer heutige Tag ist ein Tag des gr\u00f6\u00dften Triumphs! Spanien hat einen K\u00f6nig. Er ist pl\u00f6tzlich da. Dieser K\u00f6nig bin ich. Gerade heute habe ich es erfahren. Ich mu\u00df gestehen, es erleuchtete mich wie ein Blitz. Ich verstehe nicht, wie ich mir nur denken und einbilden konnte, da\u00df ich ein Titularrat sei. Wie konnte mir nur dieser verr\u00fcckte, wahnsinnige Gedanke in den Kopf kommen? Es ist noch ein Gl\u00fcck, da\u00df es niemand eingefallen ist, mich ins Irrenhaus zu sperren. Jetzt ist mir alles klar. Jetzt sehe ich alles deutlich vor mir liegen. Und bisher, \u2013 ich verstehe es gar nicht, \u2013 bisher lag vor mir alles wie im Nebel. Ich glaube, das alles kommt daher, weil die Menschen sich einbilden, das menschliche Gehirn befinde sich im Kopfe; dem ist aber gar nicht so: es wird von einem Winde vom Kaspischen Meere hergebracht. Zuerst erkl\u00e4rte ich der Mawra, wer ich bin. Als sie h\u00f6rte, da\u00df vor ihr der K\u00f6nig von Spanien steht, schlug sie die H\u00e4nde zusammen und starb fast vor Schreck; die Dumme hat noch nie einen K\u00f6nig von Spanien gesehen. Ich gab mir jedoch M\u00fche, sie zu beruhigen, und versicherte sie in gn\u00e4digen Worten meines Wohlwollens, indem ich ihr sagte, ich z\u00fcrne ihr gar nicht, weil sie mir zuweilen die Stiefel so schlecht geputzt habe. Das sind doch einfache Leute: man kann zu ihnen nicht von h\u00f6heren Gegenst\u00e4nden sprechen. Sie erschrak, weil sie \u00fcberzeugt war, da\u00df alle spanischen K\u00f6nige Philipp II. gleichen. Ich machte ihr aber klar, da\u00df zwischen mir und Philipp fast nicht die geringste \u00c4hnlichkeit bestehe und da\u00df ich keinen einzigen Kapuziner bei mir habe. Ins Departement ging ich heute nicht. Mag es der Teufel holen! Nein, Freunde, jetzt werdet ihr mich nicht mehr hinlocken: ich werde eure garstigen Akten nicht mehr abschreiben!\n\nden 86. Martember, zwischen Tag und Nacht.\n\nHeute kam unser Exekutor, um mir zu sagen, ich solle ins Departement kommen; ich sei seit mehr als drei Wochen nicht mehr in den Dienst gegangen.\n\nAber die Menschen sind ungerecht: sie rechnen nach Wochen. Das haben die Juden eingef\u00fchrt, weil sich ihr Rabbiner um diese Zeit w\u00e4scht. Zum Spa\u00df ging ich aber doch ins Departement. Der Abteilungsvorstand glaubte, ich werde mich vor ihm verbeugen und mich entschuldigen: ich sah ihn aber nur gleichg\u00fcltig, nicht zu b\u00f6se und auch nicht zu gn\u00e4dig an und setzte mich auf meinen Platz, als bemerkte ich niemand. Ich betrachtete dieses ganze Kanzleigesindel und dachte mir: \u00bbWenn ihr nur w\u00fc\u00dftet, wer hier zwischen euch sitzt!...\u00ab Du lieber Gott, was h\u00e4tten sie f\u00fcr einen L\u00e4rm gemacht! Auch der Abteilungsvorstand selbst w\u00fcrde sich vor mir so tief verbeugen, wie er sich jetzt vor dem Direktor verbeugt. Man legte einige Akten vor mich hin, damit ich einen Exzerpt aus ihnen mache. Ich ber\u00fchrte sie aber mit keinem Finger. Nach einigen Minuten gerieten alle in Unruhe. Es hie\u00df, der Direktor komme. Viele Beamte liefen hinaus, um von ihm bemerkt zu werden, aber ich r\u00fchrte mich nicht von der Stelle. Als er durch unsere Abteilung ging, kn\u00f6pften alle ihre Fr\u00e4cke zu; mir fiel es aber gar nicht ein! Was ist so ein Direktor? Soll ich mich etwa vor ihm erheben? Niemals! Was ist er f\u00fcr ein Direktor? Er ist nur ein St\u00f6psel, und kein Direktor. Ein ganz gew\u00f6hnlicher St\u00f6psel, einer, mit dem man die Flaschen zukorkt, und weiter nichts! Am meisten am\u00fcsierte es mich, als man mir ein Papier vorlegte, damit ich es unterschreibe. Sie glaubten, ich w\u00fcrde ganz unten am Rande des Bogens hinschreiben: Tischvorsteher Soundso \u2013 fiel mir gar nicht ein! Ich schrieb auf die sichtbarste Stelle, wo der Direktor des Departements seine Unterschrift zu setzen pflegt: \u00bbFerdinand VIII.\u00ab Man mu\u00df gesehen haben, was f\u00fcr ein ehrfurchtsvolles Schweigen da eintrat; ich winkte aber nur mit der Hand, sagte: \u00bbIch brauche keine Zeichen der Untert\u00e4nigkeit!\u00ab und verlie\u00df das Zimmer. Aus der Kanzlei begab ich mich direkt in die Wohnung des Direktors. Er selbst war nicht zu Hause. Der Lakai wollte mich nicht einlassen, aber ich sagte ihm so etwas, da\u00df er nur die H\u00e4nde sinken lie\u00df. Ich ging direkt ins Toilettenzimmer. Sie sa\u00df vor dem Spiegel; als sie mich sah, sprang sie auf und wich vor mir zur\u00fcck. Ich erkl\u00e4rte ihr aber, da\u00df ich der K\u00f6nig von Spanien bin. Ich sagte ihr nur, da\u00df ihr ein Gl\u00fcck bevorstehe, wie sie es sich gar nicht vorstellen k\u00f6nne, und da\u00df wir trotz der R\u00e4nke der Feinde Zusammenkommen werden. Ich wollte sonst nichts mehr sagen und ging hinaus. Oh, wie heimt\u00fcckisch ist doch so ein Weib! Ich habe erst jetzt begriffen, was das Weib ist. Bisher hat noch niemand gewu\u00dft, in wen es verliebt ist; erst ich habe es entdeckt. Das Weib ist in den Teufel verliebt. Jawohl, ich meine es ganz ernst. Die Physiker schreiben dummes Zeug, wenn sie behaupten, sie sei dies und jenes; sie liebt aber nur den Teufel. Sehen Sie, wie sie aus der Loge im ersten Rang ihre Lorgnette auf jemand richtet. Sie glauben wohl, sie betrachte diesen dicken Herrn mit den Ordenssternen? Keine Spur: sie blickt auf den Teufel, der hinter dem R\u00fccken des Dicken steht. Da hat er sich in seinen Frack versteckt. Da winkt er ihr von dort aus mit dem Finger! Und sie wird ihn heiraten, sie wird ihn ganz gewi\u00df heiraten. Auch alle diese hohen Herrn, die V\u00e4ter, die sich wie Aale winden und zum Hofe streben, welche sagen, sie seien Patrioten und dies und jenes; diese Patrioten wollen nur staatliche L\u00e4ndereien in Pacht bekommen! Sie sind imstande, Vater und Mutter und selbst Gott zu verkaufen, diese ehrgeizigen Christus-Verk\u00e4ufer! Es ist nichts als Ehrgeiz, und der Ehrgeiz kommt daher, weil sich unter der Zunge ein kleines Bl\u00e4schen befindet und in diesem Bl\u00e4schen ein kleines W\u00fcrmchen, so gro\u00df wie ein Stecknadelkopf, sitzt; und dies alles macht ein gewisser Barbier, der in der Gorochowaja wohnt. Ich kann mich auf seinen Namen nicht besinnen; es ist aber als sicher bekannt, da\u00df er in Gemeinschaft mit einer Hebamme den mohammedanischen Glauben \u00fcber die ganze Welt verbreiten will; man sagt ja, da\u00df sich in Frankreich schon der gr\u00f6\u00dfte Teil der Bev\u00f6lkerung zum Glauben Mohammeds bekennt.\n\nGar kein Datum. Der Tag hatte kein Datum.\n\nIch ging heute auf dem Newski-Prospekt spazieren. Seine Majest\u00e4t der Kaiser fuhr vorbei. Alle Leute zogen die M\u00fctzen, und ich tat es auch; dabei lie\u00df ich mir es jedoch nicht anmerken, da\u00df ich der K\u00f6nig von Spanien bin. Ich hielt es f\u00fcr unpassend, mich hier in Gegenwart aller erkennen zu geben, denn zuerst mu\u00df ich mich doch bei Hofe vorstellen. Mich hielt nur das eine zur\u00fcck, da\u00df ich bisher noch kein spanisches Nationalkost\u00fcm habe. Wenn ich doch wenigstens einen K\u00f6nigsmantel h\u00e4tte. Ich h\u00e4tte ihn mir von einem Schneider machen lassen, aber diese Schneider sind die reinen Esel; au\u00dferdem vernachl\u00e4ssigen sie ihr Handwerk, geben sich mit anderen Aff\u00e4ren ab und pflastern zum gr\u00f6\u00dften Teil die Stra\u00dfen. Ich habe mich entschlossen, mir den K\u00f6nigsmantel aus meinem neuen Uniformfrack zu machen, den ich erst zweimal getragen habe. Damit diese Schurken ihn nicht verderben, beschlo\u00df ich, ihn mir selbst hinter verschlossenen T\u00fcren zu n\u00e4hen, so da\u00df es niemand sieht. Ich zerschnitt den ganzen Frack mit der Schere, denn der Schnitt mu\u00df ein ganz anderer sein.\n\nAuf das Datum besinne ich mich nicht.  \nEinen Monat gab es auch nicht.  \nWei\u00df der Teufel, was es war.\n\nDer Mantel ist vollkommen fertig. Als ich ihn mir umwarf, schrie Mawra auf. Aber ich kann mich noch nicht entschlie\u00dfen, mich bei Hofe vorzustellen: die Deputation aus Spanien ist noch immer nicht da. Ohne die Deputierten geht es nicht: So wird mir jedes Gewicht meiner W\u00fcrde fehlen. Ich erwarte sie von Stunde zu Stunde.\n\nden 1.\n\nIch wundere mich \u00fcber die Saumseligkeit der Deputierten. Was f\u00fcr Gr\u00fcnde m\u00f6gen sie aufgehalten haben? Vielleicht Frankreich? Ja, Frankreich ist wohl die mi\u00dfg\u00fcnstigste Macht. Ich ging auf die Post und erkundigte mich, ob die spanischen Deputierten eingetroffen seien; der Postmeister ist aber furchtbar dumm, er wei\u00df von nichts. \u00bbNein,\u00ab sagte er, \u00bbes gibt hier keine spanischen Deputierten, wenn Sie aber einen Brief schreiben wollen, so nehmen wir ihn nach dem festgesetzten Tarif an.\u00ab Hol's der Teufel, was brauche ich einen Brief? Ein Brief ist Unsinn. Briefe schreiben nur die Apotheker, und auch das nur, nachdem sie sich die Zunge mit Essig befeuchtet haben: sonst k\u00f6nnte man leicht Flechten auf dem ganzen Gesicht kriegen.\n\nMadrid, den 30. Februarius.\n\nSo bin ich nun in Spanien, und es geschah so schnell, da\u00df ich kaum Zeit hatte, zu mir zu kommen. Heute fr\u00fch erschienen bei mir die spanischen Deputierten, und ich stieg mit ihnen in die Equipage. Die ungew\u00f6hnliche Schnelligkeit kam mir befremdend vor. Wir fuhren so schnell, da\u00df wir schon nach einer halben Stunde die Grenze Spaniens erreichten. \u00dcbrigens gibt es jetzt in ganz Europa Eisenbahnen, und auch die Dampfer fahren sehr schnell. Ein sonderbares Land dieses Spanien! Als wir ins erste Zimmer traten, erblickte ich eine Menge Menschen mir rasierten Sch\u00e4deln. Ich erriet jedoch gleich, da\u00df das Granden oder Soldaten sein m\u00fcssen, weil diese sich die K\u00f6pfe rasieren. Sehr merkw\u00fcrdig kam mir das Benehmen des Reichskanzlers vor, der mich an der Hand hereinf\u00fchrte; er stie\u00df mich in ein kleines Zimmer und sagte: \u00bbSitz hier, und wenn du dich K\u00f6nig Ferdinand nennen wirst, so werde ich dir jede Lust dazu austreiben.\u00ab Ich wu\u00dfte aber, da\u00df es nur eine Versuchung war, und antwortete ihm verneinend, worauf mich der Kanzler zweimal mit dem Stock auf den R\u00fccken schlug und zwar so schmerzhaft, da\u00df ich beinahe aufgeschrieen h\u00e4tte; ich beherrschte mich aber, da ich mich erinnerte, da\u00df es ein Ritterbrauch ist, jeden der ein hohes Amt antritt, zu schlagen; in Spanien werden n\u00e4mlich die Rittersitten auch heute noch beobachtet. Als ich allein geblieben war, beschlo\u00df ich, mich den Staatsgesch\u00e4ften zu widmen. Ich machte die Entdeckung, da\u00df China und Spanien das gleiche Land sind und nur aus Unbildung f\u00fcr verschiedene L\u00e4nder gehalten werden. Ich empfehle einem jeden das Wort Spanien auf ein Blatt Papier zu schreiben; es wird n\u00e4mlich China daraus werden. Mich betr\u00fcbte aber au\u00dferordentlich ein Ereignis, das morgen stattfinden soll. Morgen um sieben Uhr wird sich etwas sehr Merkw\u00fcrdiges ereignen: die Erde wird sich auf den Mond setzen. Auch der ber\u00fchmte englische Chemiker Wellington schreibt dar\u00fcber. Offen gestanden, empfand ich eine Unruhe im Herzen, als ich an die au\u00dferordentliche Zartheit und Zerbrechlichkeit des Mondes dachte. Der Mond wird ja gew\u00f6hnlich in Hamburg gemacht und zwar sehr schlecht. Ich wundere mich, da\u00df England nicht darauf aufmerksam geworden ist. Ein lahmer B\u00f6ttcher hat ihn hergestellt, und der dumme Kerl hat offenbar keine Ahnung vom Monde gehabt. Er nahm dazu ein geteertes Seil und einen Teil Baum\u00f6l; darum verbreitet sich \u00fcber die Erde ein solcher Gestank, da\u00df man sich die Nase zuhalten mu\u00df. Darum ist auch der Mond selbst eine so zarte Kugel, da\u00df die Menschen auf ihm unm\u00f6glich leben k\u00f6nnen; es leben dort nur die Nasen allein. Darum k\u00f6nnen wir auch unsere Nasen nicht sehen, weil sie sich alle auf dem Monde befinden. Und als ich mir dachte, da\u00df die Erde eine schwere Materie ist und, wenn sie sich auf den Mond setzt, alle unsere Nasen zu Mehl zermalmen kann, bem\u00e4chtigte sich meiner eine solche Unruhe, da\u00df ich Str\u00fcmpfe und Schuhe anzog und in den Saal des Reichsrats eilte, um der Polizei den Befehl zu geben, es nicht zuzulassen, da\u00df die Erde sich auf den Mond setze. Die rasierten Granden, von denen ich im Saale des Reichsrates eine gro\u00dfe Menge traf, waren sehr kluge Menschen; als ich ihnen sagte: \u00bbMeine Herren, retten wir doch den Mond, denn die Erde will sich auf ihn setzen!\u00ab \u2013 so eilten alle augenblicklich, meinen k\u00f6niglichen Wunsch auszuf\u00fchren, und viele kletterten die Wand hinauf, um den Mond herunterzuholen; in diesem Augenblick trat aber der Reichskanzler herein. Als sie ihn sahen, liefen alle davon. Ich blieb als K\u00f6nig allein zur\u00fcck. Der Kanzler schlug mich aber zu meinem Erstaunen mit dem Stock und jagte mich in mein Zimmer. Eine solche Macht haben in Spanien die Volkssitten!\n\nJanuar desselben Jahres, der auf den Februarius folgt.\n\nIch kann noch immer nicht verstehen, was f\u00fcr ein Land dieses Spanien ist. Die Volkssitten und die Hofetikette sind hier ganz ungew\u00f6hnlich. Ich verstehe nichts, ich verstehe nichts, ich verstehe gar nichts. Heute hat man mir den Sch\u00e4del rasiert, obwohl ich, so laut ich konnte, schrie, ich wolle kein M\u00f6nch werden. Aber ich kann mich nicht mehr erinnern, was mit mir geschah, als man anfing, mir kaltes Wasser auf den Kopf zu gie\u00dfen. Solche H\u00f6llenqualen habe ich noch nie empfunden. Ich war nahe daran, rasend zu werden, so da\u00df man mich nur mit M\u00fche festhalten konnte. Ich kann die Bedeutung dieser sonderbaren Sitte nicht begreifen. Eine dumme, unsinnige Sitte! Mir ist die Unvernunft der K\u00f6nige, die sie bisher noch nicht abgeschafft haben, unverst\u00e4ndlich. Ich glaube, da\u00df ich allem Anscheine nach in die H\u00e4nde der Inquisition gefallen bin und da\u00df der Mann, den ich f\u00fcr den Kanzler gehalten, der Gro\u00dfinquisitor selbst ist. Aber ich kann noch immer nicht verstehen, wie der K\u00f6nig der Inquisition verfallen konnte. Allerdings kann hier Frankreich die Hand im Spiele haben, und insbesondere Polignac. Was f\u00fcr eine Bestie ist doch dieser Polignac! Er hat geschworen, mir bis an mein Lebensende zu schaden. Und so verfolgt er mich unaufh\u00f6rlich; aber ich wei\u00df, Freund, da\u00df dich England anstiftet. Die Engl\u00e4nder sind gro\u00dfe Politiker. Sie haben \u00fcberall ihre Hand im Spiele. Das wei\u00df die ganze Welt: wenn England Tabak schnupft, so mu\u00df Frankreich niesen.\n\nDen 25.\n\nHeute kam der Gro\u00dfinquisitor wieder in mein Zimmer, aber als ich seine Schritte in der Ferne vernahm, verkroch ich mich unter einen Stuhl. Als er mich nicht im Zimmer sah, fing er an, mich zu rufen. Erst schrie er: \u00bbPoprischtschin!\u00ab \u2013 Ich gab keinen Ton von mir. Dann: \u00bbAksentij Iwanowitsch! Titularrat! Edelmann!\u00ab \u2013 Ich schwieg noch immer. \u2013 \u00bbFerdinand VIII., K\u00f6nig von Spanien!\u00ab \u2013 Ich wollte schon den Kopf herausstecken, sagte mir aber: \u00bbNein, Bruder, du f\u00fchrst mich nicht an! Ich kenne dich: du wirst mir wieder kaltes Wasser auf den Kopf gie\u00dfen.\u00ab Aber er entdeckte mich und jagte mich mit dem Stock unter dem Stuhle hervor. Dieser verdammte Stock tut furchtbar weh. Daf\u00fcr hat mich jedoch die Entdeckung, die ich heute machte, entlohnt: ich erfuhr, da\u00df jeder Hahn sein Spanien hat: es befindet sich in seinem Gefieder, in der N\u00e4he des Schwanzes. Der Gro\u00dfinquisitor verlie\u00df mich aber erbost und mir irgendeine Strafe androhend. Ich achte aber nicht auf seine ohnm\u00e4chtige Wut, denn ich wei\u00df, da\u00df er nur wie eine Maschine, als ein Werkzeug Englands handelt.\n\nDa 34tum Mon. Ihra Februar 349.\n\nNein, ich kann es nicht l\u00e4nger ertragen. Gott, was machen sie mit mir! Sie gie\u00dfen mir kaltes Wasser auf den Kopf! Sie sehen nicht auf mich, sie h\u00f6ren nicht auf mich. Was habe ich ihnen getan? Warum qu\u00e4len sie mich so? Was wollen sie von mir Armem? Was kann ich ihnen geben? Ich habe nichts. Ich habe keine Kraft, ich kann alle diese Qualen nicht ertragen, mein Kopf brennt, und alles wirbelt vor meinen Augen. Rettet mich! Nehmt mich von hier fort! Gebt mir ein Dreigespann so schnell wie der Wind! Steig ein, Kutscher, klinge, mein Gl\u00f6ckchen, schwingt euch auf, Pferde, und tragt mich aus dieser Welt fort! Weiter, immer weiter, da\u00df ich nichts mehr sehe. Da ballt sich der Himmel vor mir zu Wolken; ein Sternchen funkelt in der Ferne; der Wald mit den dunklen B\u00e4umen und dem Monde jagt an mir vorbei; blaugrauer Nebel breitet sich zu meinen F\u00fc\u00dfen aus; eine Saite klingt im Nebel; auf der einen Seite liegt das Meer, auf der anderen Italien; da lassen sich auch russische Bauernh\u00e4user erkennen. Ist es nicht mein Haus, das dort in der blauen Ferne sichtbar wird? Sitzt nicht meine Mutter am Fenster? M\u00fctterchen, rette deinen armen Sohn! Lasse eine Tr\u00e4ne auf seinen kranken Kopf fallen! Schau, wie sie ihn qu\u00e4len! Dr\u00fckke den Armen, Verlassenen an deine Brust! Es ist kein Platz f\u00fcr ihn auf dieser Welt! Man hetzt ihn herum! M\u00fctterchen, erbarme dich deines kranken Kindes!... Wi\u00dft ihr \u00fcbrigens, da\u00df der Bey von Algier eine Beule unter der Nase hat?...\n\n## **Weitere lieferbare Literatur im marixverlag**\n\nGilbert Keith Chesterton\n\n**Pater Brown Geschichten**\n\nGebunden mit Schutzumschlag\n\nca. 256 S.; Format: 12,5 x 20 cm\n\nISBN: 978-3-7374-0954-4\n\n**\u00bbEr ist so lustig, da\u00df man fast glauben k\u00f6nnte, er habe Gott erfunden.\u00ab**\n\n_Franz Kafka_\n\nNiemand k\u00e4me wohl auf die Idee Monsieur Dupin oder Sherlock Holmes zu untersch\u00e4tzen. Chestertons Father Brown hingegen ist unscheinbar, sieht sogar etwas einf\u00e4ltig aus \u2013 was ihm immer wieder zum Vorteil gereicht \u2013 und ist dazu noch Priester. Dieser wohl eigenwilligste und interessanteste Held der klassischen Kriminalliteratur schl\u00e4gt seine Widersacher wie alle anderen gro\u00dfen Detektive nat\u00fcrlich vor allem mit genialer List und Intelligenz. Doch dar\u00fcber hinaus hat er einen pers\u00f6nlichen Vorteil, den keiner seiner Detektivkollegen mitbringt und der sich bei der Aufkl\u00e4rung der abenteuerlichen F\u00e4lle immer wieder als unverzichtbar erweist: Als Priester wei\u00df er mehr \u00fcber die S\u00fcnden und Abgr\u00fcnde der Menschen und so ist es ihm ein leichtes, die kriminellen Absichten und Geheimnisse der T\u00e4ter zu durchschauen.\n\nGeorg Trakl\n\n**In den Nachmittag gefl\u00fcstert**\n\nGedichte\n\nGebunden mit Schutzumschlag\n\nca. 256 S.; Format: 12,5 x 20 cm\n\nISBN: 978-3-7374-0953-7\n\n**\u00bbSein Werk, aus reinster Lyrik bestehend, ist von mythischer, magischer Sch\u00f6nheit.\u00ab**\n\n_Otto Basil_\n\nGeorg Trakls lyrisches Werk besticht durch die sinnliche Kraft seiner Bilder und eine \u00bbLyrik in Moll\u00ab. Er wird zu den bedeutendsten Fr\u00fchexpressionisten deutscher Sprache gez\u00e4hlt. Sein hermetisches Schaffen weist jedoch weit dar\u00fcber hinaus. Gebrandmarkt als Vertreter der \u00bbD\u00e9cadence \u00ab, die den Verfall stilisiert anstatt eine soziale Utopie zu entwerfen, tr\u00e4umt er von einem neuen, \u00bbnat\u00fcrlichen\u00ab Menschen, von einer Erneuerung der paradiesischen Unschuld in der Gesellschaft. Charakteristisch f\u00fcr seine Gedichte sind Visionen von d\u00fcsterer Farbenpracht und eine melodisch-rhythmische Sprache. Im vorliegenden Band sind die Gedichte aus den Jahren 1909\u20131914 nebst einer Einf\u00fchrung von Katharina Maier enthalten.\n\nJoachim Ringelnatz\n\n**Wie ich mich auf dich freue!**\n\nLiebesgedichte\n\nGebunden mit Schutzumschlag\n\nca. 160 S.; Format: 12,5 x 20 cm\n\nISBN: 978-3-7374-0955-1\n\n**\u00bbSein eigentliches k\u00fcnstlerisches Element war die Sprachphantastik, das erfinderische Spiel des Wortes, das er mit handwerklichem Sinn f\u00fcr Farbe und Kraft behandelte; das konnte l\u00e4rmende Kaskaden geben.\u00ab**\n\n_Theodor Heuss_\n\nJoachim Ringelnatz ist den meisten Lesern vor allem als Meister der komischen und frechen Lyrik bekannt. Sein poetisches Werk hinterl\u00e4sst aber auch eine Reihe von Liebesgedichten und offenbart eine einf\u00fchlsame, leidenschaftliche aber nicht weniger humorvolle Seite. Nie beliebig, immer eigen und \u00bbringelnatzig\u00ab-originell ist er auch in seinen Liebesgedichten. Dieser Band versammelt die sch\u00f6nsten, heitersten und erotischsten Liebesgedichte aus dem Gesamtwerk des gro\u00dfen deutschen Lyrikers.\n\nFranziska zu Reventlow\n\n**Herrn Dames Aufzeichnungen**\n\nOder Begebenheiten aus einem merkw\u00fcrdigen Stadtteil\n\nGebunden mit Schutzumschlag\n\n224 S.; Format: 12,5 x 20 cm\n\nISBN: 978-3-86539-374-6\n\n**\u00bbIhr Zynismus kannte keine Grenzen, doch immer alles mit Grazie.\u00ab**\n\n_Annette Kolb_\n\nFreie Liebe, das Leben als nie endendes Fest, Dandys, Spinner, Sp\u00e4taufsteher, Esoteriker \u2013 das sind Elemente und Menschen, die die Welt der M\u00fcnchener Boh\u00e8me ausmachen. Und mittendrin: Herr Dame, der in seiner Naivit\u00e4t den M\u00fcnchener Bohemiens das ein oder andere Geheimnis entlockt und die ein oder andere \u00fcberspielte Unwissenheit zu Tage f\u00f6rdert. Auf liebevolle und doch hin und wieder schmunzelnde Art portr\u00e4tiert Fanny zu Reventlow in Herrn Dames Aufzeichnungen das Leben der M\u00fcnchener Boh\u00e8me sowie ausgew\u00e4hlte Personen ihres eigenen Umfelds und schafft so den skurrilen Schl\u00fcsselroman der Schwabinger Boh\u00e8me.\n\nMark Twain\n\n**Der gefeierte Springfrosch von Calaveras County**\n\nZeitlose Kurzgeschichten\n\nGebunden mit Schutzumschlag;\n\n224 S.; Format: 12,5 x 20 cm\n\nISBN: 978-3-7374-0951-3\n\n**\u00bbWenn wir bedenken, dass wir alle verr\u00fcckt sind, ist das Leben erkl\u00e4rt.\u00ab**\n\n_Mark Twain_\n\nIn dieser Auswahl der besten Mark Twain-Kurzgeschichten zeigt der Altmeister immer wieder, dass der Wilde Westen abseits aller Klischees auch eine sehr komische Seite hat. Twain, der als \u00bbVater der amerikanischen Literatur\u00ab bezeichnet wird, erz\u00e4hlt hier \u00fcber Greenhorns und Aufschneider, Leichenbestatter und Kannibalismus. Er erkl\u00e4rt, wie man eine Erk\u00e4ltung kuriert und warum L\u00fcgen eine Kunst ist und f\u00e4llt in seinem ber\u00fchmten Aufsatz ein vernichtendes Urteil \u00fcber die \u203afurchtbare deutsche Sprache\u2039, die sich angeblich jeglichem gesunden Menschverstand widersetzt. Mark Twain besitzt einen scharfen, intelligenten aber auch liebevollen Blick f\u00fcr die Eigent\u00fcmlichkeiten seiner Mitmenschen. Sein trockener Humor und seine s\u00fcffisante Sprache machen die Geschichten so zu dem was sie sind: komisch, kurzweilig, zeitlos.\n\n**Weitere Titel finden Sie auf unserer Homepage: www.verlagshaus-roemerweg.de**\n\n### Kontakt zum Verlag\n\nVerlagshaus R\u00f6merweg GmbH\n\nR\u00f6merweg 10\n\nD-65187 Wiesbaden\n\nTel: +49 (0) 611 98698 12\n\nFax: +49 (0) 611 98698 26\n\ninfo@verlagshausroemerweg.de\n\nwww.verlagshaus-roemerweg.de\n\nhttps:\/\/www.facebook.com\/marixverlag\n\nhttps:\/\/twitter.com\/marixverlag\n\n# INHALT\n\n  1. DIE NASE\n  2. DAS PORTR\u00c4T\n  3. DER MANTEL\n  4. DER NEWSKIJ-PROSPEKT\n  5. AUFZEICHNUNGEN EINES IRREN\n  6. Weitere lieferbare Literatur im marixverlag\n  7. Kontakt zum Verlag\n\n","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}
+{"text":"\n\nThis ebook was transcribed by Les Bowler.\n\n\n\n\n\n                            RAILWAY ADVENTURES\n                              AND ANECDOTES:\n                  EXTENDING OVER MORE THAN FIFTY YEARS.\n\n\n                         EDITED BY RICHARD PIKE.\n\n                              THIRD EDITION.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n    \"The only _bona fide_ Railway Anecdote Book published\n    on either side of the Atlantic.\"--_Liverpool Mercury_.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                     LONDON: HAMILTON, ADAMS, AND CO.\n                          NOTTINGHAM: J. DERRY.\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n                                  1888.\n\n                               NOTTINGHAM:\n             J. DERBY, PRINTER, WHEELER GATE AND HOUNDS GATE.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nAlthough railways are comparatively of recent date we are so accustomed\nto them that it is difficult to realize the condition of the country\nbefore their introduction.  How different are the present day ideas as to\nspeed in travelling to those entertained in the good old times.  The\ncelebrated historian, Niebuhr, who was in England in 1798, thus describes\nthe rapid travelling of that period:--\"Four horses drawing a coach with\nsix persons inside, four on the roof, a sort of conductor besides the\ncoachman, and overladen with luggage, have to get over seven English\nmiles in the hour; and as the coach goes on without ever stopping except\nat the principal stages, it is not surprising that you can traverse the\nwhole extent of the country in so few days.  But for any length of time\nthis rapid motion is quite too unnatural.  You can only get a very\npiece-meal view of the country from the windows, and with the tremendous\nspeed at which you go can keep no object long in sight; you are unable\nalso to stop at any place.\"  Near the same time the late Lord Campbell,\ntravelling for the first time by coach from Scotland to London, was\nseriously advised to stay a day at York, as the rapidity of motion (eight\nmiles per hour) had caused several through-going passengers to die of\napoplexy.\n\nIt is stated in the year 1825, there was in the whole world, only one\nrailway carriage, built to convey passengers.  It was on the first\nrailway between Stockton and Darlington, and bore on its panels the\nmotto--\"Periculum privatum, publica utilitas.\"  At the opening of this\nline the people's ideas of railway speed were scarcely ahead of the canal\nboat.  For we are told, \"Strange to say, a man on horseback carrying a\nflag headed the procession.  It was not thought so dangerous a place\nafter all.  The locomotive was only supposed to go at the rate of from\nfour to six miles an hour; an ordinary horse could easily keep ahead of\nthat.  A great concourse of people stood along the line.  Many of them\ntried to accompany the procession by running, and some gentlemen on\nhorseback galloped across the fields to keep up with the engine.  At a\nfavourable part of the road Stephenson determined to try the speed of the\nengine, and he called upon the horseman with the flag to get out of his\nway!  The speed was at once raised to twelve miles an hour, and soon\nafter to fifteen, causing much excitement among the passengers.\"\n\nGeorge Stephenson was greatly impressed with the vast possibilities\nbelonging to the future of railway travelling.  When battling for the\nlocomotive he seemed to see with true prescience what it was destined to\naccomplish.  \"I will do something in course of time,\" he said, \"which\nwill astonish all England.\"  Years afterwards when asked to what he\nalluded, he replied, \"I meant to make the mail run between London and\nEdinburgh by the locomotive before I died, and I have done it.\"  Thus was\na similar prediction fulfilled, which at the time he uttered it was\ndoubtless considered a very wild prophecy, \"Men shall take supper in\nLondon and breakfast in Edinburgh.\"\n\nFrom a small beginning railways have spread over the four quarters of the\nglobe.  Thousands of millions of pounds have been spent upon their\nconstruction.  Railway contractors such as Peto and Brassey at one time\nemployed armies of workmen, more numerous than the contending hosts\nengaged in many a battle celebrated in history.  Considering the mighty\nrevolutions that have been wrought in social affairs and in the commerce\nof the world by railways, John Bright was not far wrong when he said in\nthe House of Commons \"Who are the greatest men of the present age?  Not\nyour warriors, not your statesmen.  They are your engineers.\"\n\nThe Railway era, although of modern date, has been rich in adventures and\nincidents.  Numerous works have been written upon Railways, also memoirs\nof Railway Engineers, relating their struggles and triumphs, which have\ncharmed multitudes of readers.  Yet no volume has been published\nconsisting exclusively of Railway Adventures and Anecdotes.  Books having\nthe heading of Railway Anecdotes, or similar titles, containing few of\nsuch anecdotes but many of a miscellaneous character, have from time to\ntime appeared.  Anecdotes, racy of the Railway calling and circumstances\nconnected with it are very numerous: they are to be found scattered in\nParliamentary Blue Books, Journals, Biographies, and many out-of-the-way\nchannels.  Many of them are highly instructive, diverting, and\nmirth-provoking, having reference to persons in all conditions.  The\n\"Railway Adventures and Anecdotes,\" illustrating many a quaint and\npicturesque scene of railway life, have been drawn from a great variety\nof sources.  I have for a long time been collecting them, and am willing\nto believe they may prove entertaining and profitable to the railway\ntraveller and the general reader, relieving the tedium of hours when the\nmind is not disposed to grapple with profounder subjects.\n\nThe romance of railways is in the past and not in the future.  How\ndesirable then it is that a well written history of British Railways\nshould speedily be produced, before their traditions, interesting\nassociations, and early workers shall be forgotten.  A work of such\nmagnitude would need to be entrusted to a band of expert writers.  With\nan able man like Mr. Williams, the author of _Our Iron Roads_, and the\n_History of the Midland Railway_, presiding over the enterprise, a\nhistory might be produced which would be interesting to the present and\nto future generations.  The history although somewhat voluminous would be\na necessity to every public and private library.  Many of our railway\ncompanies might do worse than contribute 500 or 1000 pounds each to\nencourage such an important literary undertaking.  It would give an\nimpetus to the study of railway matters and it is not at all unlikely in\nthe course of a short time the companies would be recouped for their\noutlay.\n\nBefore concluding, it is only right I should express my grateful\nacknowledgments to the numerous body of subscribers to this work.  Among\nthem are noblemen of the highest rank and distinction, cabinet ministers,\nmembers of Parliament, magistrates, ministers of all sections of the\nChristian church, merchants, farmers, tradesmen, and artisans.  Through\ntheir helpful kindness my responsibility has been considerably lightened,\nand I trust they will have no reason to regret that their confidence has\nbeen misplaced.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS.\n\nA.B.C. and D.E.F.                                         171\nAccident, Abergele, The                                   220\n,, Beneficial Effect of a Railway                         186\n,, Extraordinary                                          128\n,, ,,                                                     265\n,, Remarkable                                             172\n,, Versailles, The                                         96\nAction, A Novel                                           255\nAdvantages of Railway Tunnels                             126\nAdvertisement, Remarkable                                 124\nAdventure, Remarkable                                     146\nAffrighted Toll Keeper                                     19\nAgent, The Insurance                                      269\nAir-ways, instead of Railways                              83\nAlarmist Views                                             28\nAlmost Dar Now                                            122\nAmerican Patience and Imperturbability                    183\nA'penny a Mile                                            170\nArmy with Banners, An                                     207\nAtmospheric Railroad Anticipated                           14\nBaby Law                                                  216\nBalloonists, Extraordinary Escape of                      275\nBavarian Guards and Bavarian Beer                         198\nBill, Expensive Parliamentary                             102\n,, First Railway                                           16\nBishop, A Disingenuous                                    267\n,, An Industrious                                         248\nBlunder, An Extraordinary                                 254\nBookshops, Growth of Station                              130\nBooking-Clerk and Buckland, The                           248\nBookstalls, Messrs. Smith's                               131\nBrahmin, The Polite                                       260\nBride's Lost Luggage, A                                   142\nBrassey's, Mr., Strict Adherence to his Word              264\nBrougham's, Lord, Speech                                   60\nBox, Shut up in a large                                   273\nBuckland's, Mr. Frank, First Railway Journey              175\nBuckland, Mr. Frank, and his Boots                        261\nBridge, Awful Death on a Railroad                         273\nBully Rightly Served, The                                 190\nBurning the Road Clear                                    179\nBusiness, Railway Facilities for                          118\nCalculation as to Railway Speed                            28\nCapture, Clever                                           105\nCatastrophe                                               165\nCarlist Chief as a Sub-contractor, A                      213\nCarriage, The Duke's                                       60\nCasuality, Curious                                        193\nChase after a Runaway Engine, A                           136\nChild's Idea on Railways, A                               179\nChild, Remarkable Rescue of a                             249\nClaim for goodwill for a Cow killed on the Railway        268\nClergy, Appealing to the                                   83\nClever, Quite too                                         181\nCoach _versus_ Railway Accidents                          198\nCompensation for Land                                     106\n,, A Widow's Claim for                                    242\nCompetition, Early Railway                                 27\n,, For Passengers                                         167\n,, Goods                                                  135\nConductor, A Wide-awake                                   184\nCoincidences, Remarkable                                  291\nCook's Railway Excursions, Origin of                       87\nCool Impudence and Dishonesty                             248\nCoolness, A Little Boy's                                  258\nConstable, The Electric                                    92\nContracts, Expensive                                      263\nContractor, An Accommodating                              113\nContractors and the Blotting Pad, Rival                    99\nContrast, National                                        171\nConversion of the Gauge                                   243\nCounsel, The bothered Queen's                             247\nCourting on a Railway thirty miles an hour                159\nCrimea, The First Railway in the                          156\nCroydon.  It's                                            271\nCurious Classification, A                                 294\nCustom of the Country, The                                234\nCuvier's Description of the Locomotive                     21\nDamages easily adjusted                                   127\nDay.  The Great Railway Mania                             114\nDeath.  Faithful unto                                     153\nDecision.  A Quick                                         95\nDecoy Trunk, The                                          224\nDeodand.  The                                              88\nDifficulties encountered in making Surveys                 31\nDifficulty solved, A                                      181\nDiscovery, A Great                                        144\nDiscussion, An Unfortunate                                 89\nDisguise, Duty in                                         283\nDissatisfied Passengers                                   236\nDoctor and the Officers, The                              246\nDog Ticket                                                 91\nDown Brakes, or Force of Habit                            192\nDrink.  That accursed                                     274\nDrinking from the Wrong Bottle                            262\nDriving a last spike                                      224\nDropping the letter \"L\"                                   267\nDukes and the traveller, The two                          114\nDying Engine Driver, The                                  191\nEarly American Railway Enterprise                          66\nEarly Morning Ride                                        187\nEarly Steam Carriages                                      15\nElevated Sight-seers Wishing to Descend                    59\nEngine Driver, A Brave                                    247\n,, A Mad                                                  278\nEngine Driver's Presence of Mind                          232\n,, Driving                                                230\n,, Fascination                                            166\nEngineer and Scientific Witness                           133\n,, Very Nice to be a Railway                              113\nEntertaining Companion                                    195\nEpigram, Railway                                          124\nEpitaph, An Engine Driver's                                86\n,, on the Victim of a Railway Accident                     85\nEscape, Providential                                      128\nEscapes from being Lynched, Narrow                        153\nEverett's Reply to Wordsworth's Protest                   123\nEvidence of General Salesman                               78\n,, Picture                                                111\nEvil, A Dreaded                                           145\nExcursionists put to the proof                            294\nExtracts from Macready's Diaries                          138\nFares, Cheap                                              188\nFault, At                                                 241\nFemale Fragility                                          250\nFlutter caused by the murder of Mr. Briggs                253\nFog Signals                                               121\nForged Tickets                                            217\nFourth of July Facts                                      244\nFraud on the Great Northern Company, Immense              161\nFrauds, Attempted                                         140\nFreak, Singular                                           170\nFreaks of Concealed Bogs                                  138\nFrightened at a Red Light                                 223\nGirl, A Brave                                             273\nGoat and the Railway, The                                 155\nGood Things of Railway Accidents                          186\nGravedigger's Suggestion, A                               257\nGray, Thomas.  A Railway Projector                         22\nGreenlander's First Railway Ride, A                       255\nGrowing Lad, A                                            217\nHartington, The Marquis of, on George Stephenson          283\nHair-Dresser, The anxious                                  79\nHeroism of a Driver                                       270\nHighlander and a Railway Engine, The                      138\nHoax, Accident                                            167\nHorses _versus_ Railways                                  262\nHow to bear losses                                        214\nImpressions, A Mexican Chief's Railway                    278\nIncident, An amusing                                      258\n,, An Electric Tramway                                    282\nInformation, Obtaining                                    154\nInsulted Woman, An                                        235\nInsured                                                   202\nJudge's feeling against Railways, A County Court          150\nKangaroo Attacking a Train, A                             209\nKemble's Letter, Fanny                                     35\nKid-Gloved Samson, A                                      184\nKiss in the Dark, A                                       256\nLady and her Lap-dog, The                                 242\n,, An Exacting                                            183\nLegislation, Railway                                      100\nLiabilities of Railway Engineers for Errors               127\nLiability of Companies for Delay of Trains                191\nLife upon a Railway, by a Conductor                       148\nLoan Engineering, or Staking out a Railway                172\nLocomotive, A Smuggling                                   234\n,, Dangerous                                              292\nLuggage, Lost                                             112\n,, in Railway Carriages                                   281\n,, What is Passengers'                                    243\nMadman in a Railway Carriage, A                           201\nMarriage, A Railway                                       139\n,, and Railway Dividends                                  228\nMatch, A Runaway                                           93\nMerchant and his Clerk, The                               160\nMistake, A slight                                         263\nMonetary Difficulties in Spain                            212\nMoney.  Lost and Found                                     87\nMonkey Signalman, A                                       294\nNavvy's Reason for not going to Church, A                  80\nNervousness                                               259\nNew Trick.  A                                             203\nNewspaper Wonder, A                                       211\nNewton, Sir Isaac's Prediction of Railway Speed            14\nNotice, Copy of a                                         237\n,, A curious                                              154\n,, A remarkable                                           252\n,, to Defaulting Shareholders, A Novel                     95\nNot to be caught                                          246\nNovel Attack, A                                           197\n,, Obstruction                                            215\nObjections, Sanitary                                       77\nOpposition, A Landowner's                                 110\n,, English and American                                    71\n,, Parliamentary                                           29\n,, to Making Surveys                                       75\nOrders, My                                                280\nParody upon the Railway Mania                             118\nPassengers and other Cattle                               158\n,, Third-class                                            143\nPeto, Sir Morton, and the Balaclava Railway               156\nPeto's, Sir Morton, Railway Mission                       104\nPhillippe and the English Navvies, Louis                  125\nPhotographing an Express Train                            259\nPolite Irishman, The                                      194\nPortmanteau, His                                          130\nPost Office and Railways.  The                            119\nPower of Locomotive Engines, Gigantic                      94\nPractice, Sharp                                            80\nPrejudice against carrying Coals by Railways               84\n,, Removed                                                 81\nPresentiment, Mrs. Blackburne's                            56\nProfitable Damages                                        295\nPrognostications of Failure                                73\nPullman's Carriages                                       295\nRace, A Curious                                           254\nRailway, An Early                                          20\n,, An Early Ride on the Liverpool and Manchester           61\n,, Announcement                                            17\n,, Enterprise                                             296\n,, Travelling, Early                                       63\n,, Destroyers in the Franco-German War                    223\n,, from Merstham to Wandsworth                             16\n,, Liverpool and Manchester                                32\n,, Manners                                                272\n,, Merthyr Tydvil                                          17\n,, A Profitable                                           260\n,, Opening of the Darlington and Stockton                  26\n,, Romance                                                 93\n,, Sleeper, A                                             246\n,, Signals                                                120\n,, Switch Tender and his Child                            199\n,, Train turned into a Man-trap                           185\n,, Up Vesuvius                                            274\nRailways, Elevated                                        214\n,, A Judgment                                             268\n,, Origin of                                               13\nRailroad Incident                                         214\n,, Tracklayer                                             216\nRails, Expansion of                                       158\nRector and his Pig.  The                                  103\nRedstart, The Black                                       199\nRejoinder, A smart                                        158\nReproof for Swearing                                      189\nRequest, A Polite                                         136\nRide from Boston to Providence in 1835, A                  81\nRobinson's, Crabb, First Railway Journey                   65\nRuling Occupation strong on Sunday                        186\nSafety on the Floor                                       147\nSeat, The Safest                                          268\nScotch Lady and her Box                                   272\nScene at a Railway Junction, Extraordinary                134\n,, Before a Sub-Committee on Standing Orders              176\nSecurity for Travelling                                   229\nSell, A                                                   241\nSeizure of a Railway Train for Debt                       208\nShe takes Fits                                            210\nShrewd Observers                                           20\nSignalman, An Amateur                                      97\nSingular Circumstance                                     125\nSleeper, A Heavy                                          276\nSounds, Remarkable Memory for                             266\nSnag's Corners                                            210\nSnake's Heads                                              81\nSnowed up on the Pacific Railway                          237\nSpeed of Railway Engines                                   30\nSteam defined                                             137\n,, Pulling a Tooth by                                     276\nSteel Rails                                               193\nStephenson Centenary, The                                 284\n,, ,, George Robert Stephenson's Address                  286\n,, ,, Rev. T. C. Sarjent's Address at the                 288\n,, ,, Sir William Armstrong's Address at the              284\nStephenson's Wedding Present, George                      194\nStopping a Runaway Couple                                 200\nStumped                                                   293\nSwindling, Ingenious                                      292\nTaken Aback                                               152\nTaking Him Down a Peg                                     252\nTaste, Loss of                                            291\nTay Bridge Accident                                       245\nTelegraph, Extraordinary use of the Electric              111\nTicket, A Lost                                            164\n,, Your                                                   271\nTraffic-Taking                                             86\nTrain Stopped by Caterpillars, A                          204\nTravelling, Effects of Constant Railway                   281\n,, in Russia                                              204\n,, Improvement in Third-Class                             143\nTrent Station                                             192\nTrip, An Unpleasant Trial                                  72\nTunnel, In a Railway                                      137\nVery Cool                                                 199\nWaif, An Extraordinary                                    245\nWard's, Artemus, Suggestion                               197\nWatkin, Sir Edward, on Touting for Business               269\nWay, A Quick                                              138\nWay-Leaves                                                 13\nWedding at a Railway Station                              166\nWhat are you going to do?                                 189\nWhistle, Steam                                             98\nWolves on a Railway                                       197\nWordsworth's Protest                                      122\nYankee Compensation Case, A                               218\n\n\n\nORIGIN OF RAILWAYS\n\n\nThe immediate parent of the railway was the wooden tram-road, which\nexisted at an early period in colliery districts.  Mr. Beaumont, of\nNewcastle, is said to have been the first to lay down wooden rails as\nlong ago as 1630.  More than one hundred and forty years elapsed before\nthe invention was greatly improved.  Mr. John Carr, in 1776 (although not\nthe first to use iron rails), was the first to lay down a cast-iron\nrailway, nailed to wooden sleepers, for the Duke of Newcastle's colliery\nnear Sheffield.  This innovation was regarded with great disfavour by the\nworkpeople as an interference with the vested rights of labour.  Mr.\nCarr's life, as a consequence, was in much jeopardy and for four days he\nhad to conceal himself in a wood to avoid the violence of an indignant\nand vindictive populace.\n\n\n\n\nWAY-LEAVES.\n\n\nRoger North, referring to a visit paid to Newcastle by his brother, the\nLord Keeper Guildford, in 1676, writes:--\"Another remarkable thing is\ntheir _way-leaves_; for when men have pieces of ground between the\ncolliery and the river, they sell the leave to lead coal over the ground,\nand so dear that the owner of a rood of ground will expect 20 pounds per\nannum for this leave.  The manner of the carriage is by laying rails of\ntimber from the colliery down to the river exactly straight and parallel,\nand bulky carts are made with four rowlets fitting these rails, whereby\nthe carriage is so easy that one horse will draw four or five chaldron of\ncoals, and is an immense benefit to the coal merchants.\"\n\n\n\n\nSIR ISAAC NEWTON'S PREDICTION OF RAILWAY SPEED.\n\n\nIn a tract by the Rev. Mr. Craig, Vicar of Leamington, entitled \"Astral\nWonders,\" is to be found the following remarkable passage:--\"Let me\nnarrate to you an anecdote concerning Sir Isaac Newton and Voltaire.  Sir\nIsaac wrote a book on the Prophet Daniel, and another on the Revelations;\nand he said, in order to fulfil certain prophecies before a certain date\nterminated, namely 1260 years, there would be a certain mode of\ntravelling of which the men in his time had no conception; nay, that the\nknowledge of mankind would be so increased that they would be able to\ntravel at the rate of fifty miles an hour.  Voltaire, who did not believe\nin the Holy Scriptures, got hold of this, and said, 'Now look at that\nmighty mind of Newton, who discovered gravity, and told us such marvels\nfor us all to admire, when he became an old man and got into his dotage,\nhe began to study that book called the Bible; and it appears that in\norder to credit its fabulous nonsense, we must believe that mankind's\nknowledge will be so much increased that we shall be able to travel fifty\nmiles an hour.  The poor 'dotard!' exclaimed the philosophic infidel,\nVoltaire, in the complaisancy of his pity.  But who is the dotard now?\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE ATMOSPHERIC RAILROAD ANTICIPATED.\n\n\n                                _First Voice_.\n\n    \"But why drives on that ship so fast,\n    Without or wave or wind?\"\n\n                               _Second Voice_.\n\n    \"The air is cut away before,\n    And closes from behind.\"\n\n                                                  --_The Ancient Mariner_.\n\nThis is the exact principle of the atmospheric railroad, and it is,\nperhaps, worthy of note as a curious fact that such a means of locomotion\nshould have occurred to Coleridge so long ago.\n\n                             W. Y. Bernhard Smith, in _Notes and Queries_.\n\n\n\n\nEARLY STEAM CARRIAGES.\n\n\nStuart, in his \"Historical and Descriptive Anecdotes of Steam Engines and\nof their Inventors and Improvers,\" gives a description of what was\nsupposed to be the first model of a steam carriage.  The constructor was\na Frenchman named Cugnot, who exhibited it before the Marshal de Saxe in\n1763.  He afterwards built an engine on the same model at the cost of the\nFrench monarch.  But when set in motion it projected itself onward with\nsuch force that it knocked down a wall which stood in its way, and--its\npower being considered too great for ordinary use--it was put aside as\nbeing a dangerous machine, and was stowed away in the Arsenal Museum at\nParis.  It is now to be seen in the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers.\n\nMr. Smiles also remarks that \"An American inventor, named Oliver Evans,\nwas also occupied with the same idea, for, in 1772, he invented a steam\ncarriage to travel on common roads; and, in 1787, he obtained from the\nState of Maryland the exclusive right to make and use steam carriages.\nThe invention, however, never came into practical use.\n\n\"It also appears that, in 1784, William Symington, the inventor of the\nsteamboat, conceived the idea of employing steam power in the propulsion\nof carriages; and, in 1786, he had a working model of a steam carriage\nconstructed which he submitted to the professors and other scientific\ngentlemen of Edinburgh.  But the state of the Scotch roads was at that\ntime so horrible that he considered it impracticable to proceed further\nwith his scheme, and he shortly gave it up in favour of his project of\nsteam navigation.\n\n\"The first English model of a steam carriage was made in 1784 by William\nMurdoch, the friend and assistant of Watt.  It was on the high-pressure\nprinciple and ran on three wheels.  The boiler was heated by a spirit\nlamp, and the whole machine was of very diminutive dimensions, standing\nlittle more than a foot high.  Yet, on one occasion, the little engine\nwent so fast that it outran the speed of the inventor.  Mr. Buckle says\nthat one night after returning from his duties in the mine at Redruth, in\nCornwall, Murdoch determined to try the working of his model locomotive.\nFor this purpose he had recourse to the walk leading to the church, about\na mile from the town.  The walk was rather narrow and was bounded on\neither side by high hedges.  It was a dark night, and Murdoch set out\nalone to try his experiment.  Having lit his lamp, the water shortly\nbegan to boil, and off started the engine with the inventor after it.  He\nsoon heard distant shouts of despair.  It was too dark to perceive\nobjects, but he shortly found, on following up the machine, that the\ncries for assistance proceeded from the worthy pastor of the parish, who,\ngoing towards the town on business, was met on this lonely road by the\nhissing and fiery little monster, which he subsequently declared he had\ntaken to be the Evil One in _propria persona_.  No further steps,\nhowever, were taken by Murdoch to embody his idea of a locomotive\ncarriage in a more practical form.\"\n\n\n\n\nFIRST RAILWAY BILL.\n\n\nThe first Railway Bill passed by Parliament was for a line from\nWandsworth to Croydon, in 1801, but a quarter of a century elapsed before\nthe first line was actually constructed for carrying passengers between\nStockton and Darlington.  People still living can remember the mail\ncoaches that plied once a month between Edinburgh and London, making the\njourney in twelve or fourteen days.  The _Annual Register_ of 1820 boasts\nthat \"English mail coaches run 7 miles an hour; French only 4.5 miles;\nthe former travelling, in the year, forty times the length of miles that\nthe French accomplish.\"  These coaches were a great improvement on the\nprevious method of sending the mails.  In 1783 a petition to Parliament\nstated that \"the mails are generally entrusted to some idle boy, without\ncharacter, mounted on a worn-out hack.\"\n\n                               \"_Progress of the World_\" by M. G. Mulhall.\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY FROM MERSTHAM TO WANDSWORTH.\n\n\nCharles Knight thus describes this old line:--\"The earliest railway for\npublic traffic in England was one passing from Merstham to Wandsworth,\nthrough Croydon; a small, single line, on which a miserable team of\ndonkeys, some thirty years ago, might be seen crawling at the rate of\nfour miles an hour, with several trucks of stone and lime behind them.\nIt was commenced in 1801, opened in 1803; and the men of science of that\nday--we cannot say that the respectable name of Stephenson was not among\nthem, (Stephenson was then a brakesman at Killingworth)--tested its\ncapabilities and found that one horse could draw some thirty-five tons at\nsix miles an hour, and then, with prophetic wisdom, declared that\nrailways could never be worked profitably.  The old Croydon railway is no\nlonger used.  The genius loci must look with wonder on the gigantic\noffspring of the little railway, which has swallowed up its own sire.\nLean mules no longer crawl leisurely along the little rails with trucks\nof stone through Croydon, once perchance during the day, but the whistle\nand the rush of the locomotive are now heard all day long.  Not a few\nloads of lime, but all London and its contents, by comparison--men,\nwomen, children, horses, dogs, oxen, sheep, pigs, carriages, merchandise,\nfood,--would seem to be now-a-days passing through Croydon; for day after\nday, more than 100 journeys are made by the great railroads which pass\nthe place.\"\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY ANNOUNCEMENT.\n\n\nThe following announcement was published in a London periodical, dated\nAugust 1, 1802:--\"The Surrey Iron Railway is now completed over the high\nroad through Wandsworth town.  On Wednesday, June 8, several carriages of\nall descriptions passed over the iron rails without meeting with the\nleast obstacle.  Among these, the Portsmouth wagon, drawn by eight horses\nand weighing from eight to ten tons, passed over the rails, and did not\nappear to make the slightest impression upon them.\"\n\n\n\n\nMERTHYR TYDVIL RAILWAY.\n\n\nAn Act of Parliament was granted for a railway to Merthyr Tydvil in 1803,\nand the following year the first locomotive which ran on a railway is\ndescribed in a racy manner by the _Western Mail_, as follows:--\"Quaint,\nrattling, puffing, asthmatic, and wheezy, the pioneer of ten thousand\ngilding creations of beauty and strength made its way between the\nwhite-washed houses of the old tramway at Merthyr.  It has a dwarf body\nplaced on a high framework, constructed by the hedge carpenter of the\nplace in the roughest possible fashion.  The wheels were equally rough\nand large, and surmounting all was a huge stack, ugly enough when it was\nnew, but in after times made uglier by whitewash and rust.  Every\nmovement was made with a hideous uproar, snorting and clanking, and this,\naided by the noise of the escaping steam, formed a tableau from which,\nmet in the byeway, every old woman would run with affright.  The Merthyr\nlocomotive was made jointly by Trevithick, a Cornishman, and Rees Jones,\nof Penydarran.  The day fixed for the trial was the 12th of February,\n1804, and the track a tramway, lately formed from Penydarran, at the back\nof Plymouth Works, by the side of the Troedyrhiw, and so down to the\nnavigation.  Great was the concourse assembled; villagers of all ages and\nsizes thronged the spot; and the rumour of the day's doings even\npenetrated up the defiles of <DW75> Vawr and <DW75> Vach, bringing down old\napple-faced farmers and their wives, who were told of a power and a speed\nthat would alter everything, and do away with horses altogether.  Prim,\ncosy, apple-faced people, innocent and primitive, little thought ye then\nof the changes which the clanking monster was to yield; how Grey Dobbin\nwould see flying by a mass of wood and iron, thousands of tons of weight,\nbearing not only the commerce of the country, but hundreds of people as\nwell; how rivers and mountains would afford no obstacle, as the mighty\nazure waves leap the one and dash through the other.  On the first engine\nand trains that started on the memorable day in February, twenty persons\nclustered like bees, anxious, we learn in the 'History of Merthyr,' to\nwin immortality by being thus distinguished above all their fellows; the\ntrains were six in number, laden with iron, and amidst a concourse of\nvillagers, including the constable, the 'druggister,' and the class\ngenerally dubbed 'shopwors' by the natives, were Richard Crawshay and Mr.\nSamuel Homfray.  The driver was one William Richards, and on the engine\nwere perched Trevithick and Rees Jones, their faces black, but their eyes\nbright with the anticipation of victory.  Soon the signal was given, and\namidst a mighty roar from the people, the wheels turned and the mass\nmoved forward, going steadily at the rate of five miles an hour until a\nbridge was reached a little below the town that did not admit of the\nstack going under, and as this was built of bricks, there was a great\ncrash and instant stoppage.  Trevithick and Jones were of the\nold-fashioned school of men who did not believe in impossibilities.  The\nfickle crowd, too, who had hurrahed like mad, hung back and said 'It\nwon't do'; but these heroes, the advance-guard of a race who had done\nmore to make England famous than battles by land or sea, sprang to the\nground and worked like Britons, never ceasing until they had repaired the\nmishap, and then they rattled on, and finally reached their journey's\nend.  The return journey was a failure, on account of gradients and\ncurves, but the possibility of success was demonstrated; and from this\nrun on the Merthyr tramway the railway age--marked with throes and\nsuspense, delays, accidents, and misadventures--finally began.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN AFFRIGHTED TOLL-KEEPER.\n\n\nThere is a story told by Coleridge about the steam engine which\nTrevithick exhibited at work on a temporary railroad in London.\nTrevithick and his partner Captain Vivian, prior to this exhibition were\nriding on the carriage on the turnpike road near to Plymouth.  It had\ncommitted sundry damage in its course, knocking down the rails of a\ngentleman's garden, when Vivian saw the toll-bar in front of them closed\nhe called to Trevithick to slacken speed which he did just in time to\nsave the gate.  The affrighted toll-keeper instantly opened it.  \"What\nhave us got to pay?\" asked Captain Vivian, careful as to honesty if\nreckless as to grammar.\n\n\"Na-na-na-na!\" stammered the poor man, trembling in every limb, with his\nteeth chattering as if he had got the ague.\n\n\"What have us got to pay, I ask?\"\n\n\"Na-noth-nothing to pay!  My de-dear Mr. Devil, do drive as fast as you\ncan!  Nothing to pay!\"\n\n\n\n\nAN EARLY RAILWAY.\n\n\nMore than twenty years before the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester\nRailway, the celebrated engineer Trevithick constructed, not only a\nlocomotive engine, but also a railway, that the London public might see\nwith their own eyes what the new high pressure steam engine could effect,\nand how greatly superior a railway was to a common road for locomotion.\nThe sister of Davies Gilbert named this engine \"Catch me who can.\"  The\nfollowing interesting account in a letter to a correspondent was given by\nJohn Isaac Hawkins, an engineer well known in his day.\n\n\"Sir,--Observing that it is stated in your last number (No. 1232, dated\nthe 20th instant, page 269), under the head of 'Twenty-one Years'\nRetrospect of the Railway System,' that the greatest speed of\nTrevithick's engine was five miles an hour, I think it due to the memory\nof that extraordinary man to declare that about the year 1808 he laid\ndown a circular railway in a field adjoining the New Road, near or at the\nspot now forming the southern half of Euston Square; that he placed a\nlocomotive engine, weighing about ten tons, on that railway--on which I\nrode, with my watch in hand--at the rate of twelve miles an hour; that\nMr. Trevithick then gave his opinion that it would go twenty miles an\nhour, or more, on a straight railway; that the engine was exhibited at\none shilling admittance, including a ride for the few who were not too\ntimid; that it ran for some weeks, when a rail broke and occasioned the\nengine to fly off in a tangent and overturn, the ground being very soft\nat the time.  Mr. Trevithick having expended all his means in erecting\nthe works and enclosure, and the shillings not having come in fast enough\nto pay current expenses, the engine was not again set on the rail.\"\n\n\n\n\nSHREWD OBSERVERS.\n\n\nSir Richard Phillips was a man of foresight, for, in the year 1813, he\nwrote the following words in his \"Morning Walk to Kew,\" a book of some\npopularity in its day:--\"I found delight in witnessing at Wandsworth the\neconomy of horse labour on the iron railway.  Yet a heavy sigh escaped me\nas I thought of the inconceivable millions of money which had been spent\nabout Malta, four or five of which might have been the means of extending\ndouble lines of iron railway from London to Edinburgh, Glasgow, Holyhead,\nMilford, Falmouth, Yarmouth, Dover, and Portsmouth.  A reward of a single\nthousand would have supplied coaches and other vehicles of various\ndegrees of speed, with the best tackle for readily turning out; and we\nmight ere this have witnessed our mail coaches running at the rate of ten\nmiles an hour, drawn by a single horse, or impelled fifteen miles an hour\nby Blenkinsop's steam engine.  Such would have been a legitimate motive\nfor overstepping the income of a nation; and the completion of so great\nand useful a work would have afforded rational ground for public triumph\nin general jubilee.\"  Mr. Edgeworth, writing to James Watt on the 7th of\nAugust, 1813, remarks, \"I have always thought that steam would become the\nuniversal lord, and that we should in time scorn post-horses.  An iron\nrailroad would be a cheaper thing than a road on the common\nconstruction.\"\n\n\n\n\nCUVIER'S DESCRIPTION OF THE LOCOMOTIVE.\n\n\nThe celebrated Cuvier, in an address delivered by him before the French\nInstitute in the year 1816, thus referred to the nascent locomotive:--\"A\nsteam engine, mounted upon a carriage whose wheels indent themselves\nalong a road specially prepared for it, is attached to a line of loaded\nvehicles.  A fire is lit underneath the boiler, by which the engine is\nspeedily set in motion, and in a short time the whole are brought to\ntheir journey's end.  The traveller who, from a distance, first sees this\nstrange spectacle of a train of loaded carriages traversing the country\nby the simple force of steam, can with difficulty believe his eyes.\"\n\nThe locomotive thus described by Cuvier was the first engine of the kind\nregularly employed in the working of railway traffic.  It was impelled by\nmeans of a cogged wheel, which worked into a cogged rail, after the\nmethod adopted by Mr. Blenkinsop, upon the Middleton Coal Railway, near\nLeeds; and the speed of the train which it dragged behind it was only\nfrom three to four miles an hour.\n\nTen years later, the same power and speed of the locomotive were still\nmatters of wonderment, for, in 1825, we find Mr. Mackenzie, in his\n\"History of Northumberland\" thus describing the performances on the Wylam\nCoal Railroad:--\"A stranger,\" said he, \"is struck with surprise and\nastonishment on seeing a locomotive engine moving majestically along the\nroad at the rate of four or five miles an hour, drawing along from ten to\nfourteen loaded wagons, weighing about twenty-one-and-a-half tons; and\nhis surprise is increased on witnessing the extraordinary facility with\nwhich the engine is managed.  This invention is indeed a noble triumph of\nscience.\"\n\nIn the same year, the first attempt was made to carry passengers by\nrailway between Stockton and Darlington.  A machine resembling the yellow\ncaravan still seen at country fairs was built and fitted up with seats\nall round it, and set upon the rails, along which it was drawn by a\nhorse.  It was found exceedingly convenient to travel by, and the number\nof passengers between the two towns so much increased that several bodies\nof old stage coaches were bought up, mounted upon railway wheels, and\nadded to the carrying stock of the Stockton and Darlington Company.  At\nlength the horse was finally discarded in favour of the locomotive, and\nnot only coals and merchandise, but passengers of all classes, were drawn\nby steam.\n\n                                                         --_Railway News_.\n\n\n\n\nA RAILWAY PROJECTOR.\n\n\nIn the year 1819, Thomas Gray--a deep thinker with a mind of\ncomprehensive grasp--was travelling in the North of England when he saw a\ntrain of coal-wagons drawn by steam along a colliery tramroad.  \"Why,\" he\nquestioned the engineer, \"are not these tramroads laid down all over\nEngland, so as to supersede our common roads, and steam engines employed\nto convey goods and passengers along them, so as to supersede horse\npower?\"  The engineer replied, \"Just propose you that to the nation, sir,\nand see what you will get by it!  Why, sir, you will be worried to death\nfor your pains.\"  Nothing daunted by this reply, Thomas Gray could\nscarcely think or talk upon any other subject.  In vision he saw the\ncountry covered with a network of tramroads.  Before his time the famous\nDuke of Bridgewater might have some misgivings about his canals.  It is\nrelated on a certain occasion some one said to him, \"You must be making\nhandsomely out of your canals.\"  \"Oh, yes,\" grumbled he in reply, \"they\nwill last my time, but I don't like the look of these tramroads; there's\nmischief in them.\"  Mr. Gray, with prophetic eye, saw the great changes\nwhich the iron railway would make in the means of transit throughout the\ncivilized world.  In 1820 he brought out his now famous work, entitled\n\"Observations on a General Iron Railway, or Land Steam Conveyance, to\nsupersede the necessity of horses in all public vehicles; showing its\nvast superiority in every respect over all the present pitiful methods of\nconveyance by Turnpike-roads, Canals, and Coasting Traders: containing\nevery species of information relative to Railroads and Locomotive\nEngines.\"  The book is illustrated by a plate exhibiting different kinds\nof carriages drawn on the railway by locomotives.  He evidently\nanticipated that the locomotive of the future would be capable of going\nat a considerable speed, for on the plate is engraved these lines:--\n\n    \"No speed with this can fleetest horse compare;\n    No weight like this canal or vessel bear.\n    As this will commerce every way promote,\n    To this let sons of commerce grant their vote.\"\n\nMr. Gray in his book exhibits a marvellous insight into the wants and\nrequirements of the country.  He remarks, \"The plan might be commenced\nbetween the towns of Manchester and Liverpool, where a trial could soon\nbe made, as the distance is not very great, and the commercial part of\nEngland would thereby be better able to appreciate its many excellent\nproperties and prove its efficacy.  All the great trading towns of\nLancashire and Yorkshire would then eagerly embrace the opportunity to\nsecure so commodious and easy a conveyance, and cause branch railways to\nbe laid down in every possible direction.  The convenience and economy in\nthe carriage of the raw material to the numerous manufactories\nestablished in these counties, the expeditious and cheap delivery of\npiece goods bought by the merchants every week at the various markets,\nand the despatch in forwarding bales and packages to the outposts cannot\nfail to strike the merchant and manufacturer as points of the first\nimportance.  Nothing, for example, would be so likely to raise the ports\nof Hull, Liverpool, and Bristol to an unprecedented pitch of prosperity\nas the establishment of railways to those ports, thereby rendering the\ncommunication from the east to the west seas, and all intermediate\nplaces, rapid, cheap, and effectual.  Anyone at all conversant with\ncommerce must feel the vast importance of such an undertaking in\nforwarding the produce of America, Brazils, the East and West Indies,\netc., from Liverpool and Bristol, _via_ Hull, to the opposite shores of\nGermany and Holland, and, _vice versa_, the produce of the Baltic, _via_\nHull, to Liverpool and Bristol.  Again, by the establishment of morning\nand evening mail steam carriages, the commercial interest would derive\nconsiderable advantage; the inland mails might be forwarded with greater\ndespatch and the letters delivered much earlier than by the extra post;\nthe opportunity of correspondence between London and all mercantile\nplaces would be much improved, and the rate of postage might be generally\ndiminished without injuring the receipts of the post office, because any\ndeficiency occasioned by a reduction in the postage would be made good by\nthe increased number of journeys which mail steam carriages might make.\nThe London and Edinburgh mail steam carriages might take all the mails\nand parcels on the line of road between these two cities, which would\nexceedingly reduce the expense occasioned by mail coaches on the present\nfooting.  The ordinary stage coaches, caravans, or wagons, running any\nconsiderable distance along the main railway, might also be conducted on\npeculiarly favourable terms to the public; for instance, one steam engine\nof superior power would enable its proprietors to convey several coaches,\ncaravans, or wagons, linked together until they arrive at their\nrespective branches, when other engines might proceed on with them to\ntheir destination.  By a due regulation of the departure and arrival of\ncoaches, caravans, and wagons along these branches the whole\ncommunication throughout the country would be so simple and so complete\nas to enable every individual to partake of the various productions of\nparticular situations, and to enjoy, at a moderate expense every\nimprovement introduced into society.  The great economy of such a measure\nmust be obvious to everyone, seeing that, instead of each coach changing\nhorses between London and Edinburgh, say twenty-five times, requiring a\nhundred horses, besides the supernumerary ones kept at every stage in\ncase of accidents, the whole journey of several coaches would be\nperformed with the simple expense of one steam engine.  No animal\nstrength will be able to give that uniform and regular acceleration to\nour commercial intercourse which may be accomplished by railways; however\ngreat animal speed, there cannot be a doubt that it would be considerably\nsurpassed by mail steam carriages, and that the expense would be\ninfinitely less.  The exorbitant charge now made for small parcels\nprevents that natural intercourse of friendship between families resident\nin different parts of the kingdom, in the same manner as the heavy\npostage of letters prevents free communication, and consequently\ndiminishes very considerably the consumption of paper which would take\nplace under a less burdensome taxation.\"\n\nMr. Gray's book would no doubt excite ridicule and amazement when\npublished sixty years ago.  The farmers of that day might well be excused\nfor incredulity when perusing a passage like the following:--\"The present\nsystem of conveyance,\" says Mr. Gray, \"affords but tolerable\naccommodation to farmers, and the common way in which they attend markets\nmust always confine them within very limited distances.  It is, however,\nexpected that the railway will present a suitable conveyance for\nattending market-towns thirty or forty miles off, as also for forwarding\nconsiderable supplies of grain, hay, straw, vegetables, and every\ndescription of live stock to the metropolis at a very easy expense, and\nwith the greatest celerity, from all parts of the kingdom.\"\n\nA writer in Chambers's Journal, 1847, remarks:--\"It was not until after\nfour or five years of agitation, and several editions of Mr. Gray's work\nhad been published and successively commented upon by many newspapers,\nthat commercial men were roused to give the proposed scheme its first\ngreat trial on the road between Liverpool and Manchester.  The success of\nthat experiment, insured by the engineering skill of Stephenson, was the\nsignal for all that has since been done both in this island and in other\nparts of the world.  Unfortunately, the public has been too busy these\nmany years in making railways to inquire to whom it owes its gratitude\nfor having first expounded and advocated their claims; and probably there\nare few men now living who have served the public as effectually, with so\nlittle return in the way of thanks or applause, as Mr. Thomas Gray, the\nproposer in 1820 of a general system of transit by railways.\"\n\nPoor Gray!  He was far ahead of his times.  Public men called him a bore,\nand people in Nottingham, where he resided, said he was cracked.  The\n_Quarterly Review_ declared such persons are not worth our notice, and\nthe _Edinburgh Review_ said \"Put him in a straight jacket.\"  Thus the\nworld is often ignorant of its greatest benefactors.  Gray died in\npoverty.  His widow and daughters earned their living by teaching a small\nschool at Exeter.\n\n\n\n\nOPENING OF THE DARLINGTON AND STOCKTON RAILWAY.\n\n\nIn the autumn of 1825 the _Times_ gave an account of the origin of one of\nthe most gigantic enterprises of modern times.  In that year the\nDarlington and Stockton Railway was formally opened by the proprietors\nfor the use of the public.  It was a single railway, and the object of\nits promoters was to open the London market to the Durham Collieries, as\nwell as to facilitate the obtaining of fuel to the country along its line\nand certain parts of Yorkshire.  The account of the opening says:--\n\nA train of carriages was attached to a locomotive engine of the most\nimproved construction, and built by Mr. George Stephenson, in the\nfollowing order:--(1) Locomotive engine, with the engineer and\nassistants; (2) tender with coals and water; next six wagons loaded with\ncoals and flour; then an elegant covered coach, with the committee and\nother proprietors of the railway; then 21 wagons fitted up on the\noccasion for passengers; and, last of all, six wagons loaded with coals,\nmaking altogether a train of 38 carriages, exclusive of the engine and\ntender.  Tickets were distributed to the number of nearly 300 for those\nwhom it was intended should occupy the coach and wagons; but such was the\npressure and crowd that both loaded and empty carriages were instantly\nfilled with passengers.  The signal being given, the engine started off\nwith this immense train of carriages.  In some parts the speed was\nfrequently 12 miles per hour, and in one place, for a short distance,\nnear Darlington, 15 miles per hour, and at that time the number of\npassengers was counted to 450, which, together with the coals,\nmerchandise, and carriages, would amount to nearly 90 tons.  After some\nlittle delay in arranging the procession, the engine, with her load,\narrived at Darlington a distance of eight miles and three-quarters, in 65\nminutes, exclusive of stops, averaging about eight miles an hour.  The\nengine arrived at Stockton in three hours and seven minutes after leaving\nDarlington, including stops, the distance being nearly 12 miles, which is\nat the rate of four miles an hour, and upon the level part of the railway\nthe number of passengers in the wagons was counted about 550, and several\nmore clung to the carriages on each side, so that the whole number could\nnot be less than 600.\n\n\n\n\nEARLY RAILWAY COMPETITION.\n\n\nThe first Stockton and Darlington Act gave permission to all parties to\nuse the line on payment of certain rates.  Thus private individuals might\nwork their own horses and carriages upon the railway and be their own\ncarriers.  Mr. Clepham, in the _Gateshead Observer_, gives an interesting\naccount of the competition induced by the system:--\"There were two\nseparate coach companies in Stockton, and amusing collisions sometimes\noccurred between the drivers--who found on the rail a novel element for\ncontention.  Coaches cannot pass each other on the rail as on the road;\nand at the more westward public-house in Stockton (the Bay Horse, kept by\nJoe Buckton), the coach was always on the line betimes, reducing its\neastward rival to the necessity of waiting patiently (or impatiently) in\nthe rear.  The line was single, with four sidings in the mile; and when\ntwo coaches met, or two trains, or coach and train, the question arose\nwhich of the drivers must go back?  This was not always settled in\nsilence.  As to trains, it came to be a sort of understanding that light\nwagons should give way to loaded; as to trains and coaches, that the\npassengers should have preference over coals; while coaches, when they\nmet, must quarrel it out.  At length, midway between sidings a post was\nerected, and a rule was laid down that he who had passed the pillar must\ngo on, and the coming man go back.  At the Goose Pool and Early Nook, it\nwas common for these coaches to stop; and there, as Jonathan would say,\npassengers and coachmen 'liquored.'  One coach, introduced by an\ninnkeeper, was a compound of two mourning coaches, an approximation to\nthe real railway coach, which still adheres, with multiplying exceptions,\nto the stage coach type.  One Dixon, who drove the 'Experiment' between\nDarlington and Shildon, is the inventor of carriage lighting on the rail.\nOn a dark winter night, having compassion on his passengers, he would buy\na penny candle, and place it lighted amongst them, on the table of the\n'Experiment'--the first railway coach (which, by the way, ended its days\nat Shildon, as a railway cabin), being also the first coach on the rail\n(first, second, and third class jammed all into one) that indulged its\ncustomers with light in darkness.\"\n\n\n\n\nCALCULATION AS TO RAILWAY SPEED.\n\n\nThe Editor of _The Scotsman_, having engaged in researches into the laws\nof friction established by Vince and Coloumb, published the results in a\nseries of articles in his journal in 1824 showing how twenty miles an\nhour was, on theoretic grounds, within the limits of possibility; and it\nwas to his writings on this point that Mr. Nicholas Wood alluded when he\nspoke of the ridiculous expectation that engines would ever travel at the\nrate of twenty, or even twelve miles an hour.\n\n\n\n\nALARMIST VIEWS.\n\n\nA writer in the _Quarterly Review_, in 1825, was quite prophetical as to\nthe dangers connected with railway travelling.  He observes:--\"It is\ncertainly some consolation to those who are to be whirled at the rate of\n18 or 20 miles an hour by means of a high-pressure engine, to be told\nthat there is no danger of being sea-sick while on shore, that they are\nnot to be scalded to death, nor drowned, nor dashed to pieces by the\nbursting of a boiler; and that they need not mind being struck by the\nflying off or breaking of a wheel.  What can be more palpably absurd or\nridiculous than the prospect held out of locomotives travelling _twice as\nfast_ as stage coaches!  We should as soon expect the people of Woolwich\nto suffer themselves to be fired off upon one of Congreve's Ricochet\nRockets, as trust themselves to the mercy of such a machine going at such\na rate.  We will back old Father Thames against the Woolwich Railway for\nany sum.  We trust that Parliament will, in all railways it may sanction,\nlimit the speed to _eight or nine miles an hour_, which we entirely agree\nwith Mr. Sylvestor is as great as can be ventured on with safety.\"\n\n\n\n\nPARLIAMENTARY OPPOSITION.\n\n\nOn the third reading of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway Bill in the\nHouse of Commons, The Hon. Edward Stanley moved that the bill be read\nthat day six months, assigning, among other reasons, that the railway\ntrains worked by horses would take ten hours to do the distance, and that\nthey could not be worked by locomotive engines.  Sir Isaac Coffin\nseconded the motion, indignantly denouncing the project as fraught with\nfraud and imposition.  He would not consent to see widows' premises\ninvaded, and \"how,\" he asked, \"would any person like to have a railroad\nunder his parlour window? . . .  What, he would like to know, was to be\ndone with all those who had advanced money in making and repairing\nturnpike-roads?  What with those who may still wish to travel in their\nown or hired carriages, after the fashion of their forefathers?  What was\nto become of coach-makers and harness-makers, coach-masters and coachmen,\ninnkeepers, horse-breeders, and horse-dealers?  Was the House aware of\nthe smoke and noise, the hiss and whirl, which locomotive engines,\npassing at the rate of ten or twelve miles an hour, would occasion?\nNeither the cattle ploughing in the fields or grazing in the meadows\ncould behold them without dismay. . . .  Iron would be raised in price\n100 per cent., or, more probably, exhausted altogether!  It would be the\ngreatest nuisance, the most complete disturbance of quiet and comfort in\nall parts of the kingdom, that the ingenuity of man could invent!\"\n\n\n\n\nSPEED OF RAILWAY ENGINES.\n\n\nAt the present day it is amusing to read the speeches of the counsel\nemployed against an act of Parliament being passed in favour of the\nrailway between Liverpool and Manchester.  Mr. Harrison, who appeared on\nbehalf of certain landowners against the scheme, thus spoke with regard\nto the powers of the locomotive engine:--\"When we set out with the\noriginal prospectus--I am sorry I have not got the paper with me--we were\nto gallop, I know not at what rate, I believe it was at the rate of\ntwelve miles an hour.  My learned friend, Mr. Adam, contemplated,\npossibly in alluding to Ireland, that some of the Irish members would\narrive in wagons to a division.  My learned friend says, that they would\ngo at the rate of twelve miles an hour, with the aid of a devil in the\nform of a locomotive, sitting as a postillion upon the fore-horse, and an\nHonourable Member, whom I do not see here, sitting behind him to stir up\nthe fire, and to keep it up at full speed.  But the speed at which these\nlocomotive engines are to go has slackened; Mr. Adam does not now go\nfaster than five miles per hour.  The learned Sergeant says, he should\nlike to have seven, but he would be content to go six.  I will show you\nhe cannot go six; and probably, for any practical purposes, I may be able\nto show, that I can keep up with him by the canal.  Now the real evidence\nto which you alone can pay attention shows, that practically, and for\nuseful purposes, upon the average, and to keep up the rate of speed\ncontinually, they may go at something more than four miles an hour.  In\none of the collieries, there is a small engine with wheels four feet in\ndiameter, which, with moderate weights has gone six; but I will not\nadmit, because, in an experiment or two, they may have been driven at the\nrate of seven or eight miles an hour--because a small engine has been\ndriven at the rate of six, that this is the average rate at which they\ncan carry goods upon a railroad for the purpose of commerce, for that is\nthe point to which the Committee ought to direct their attention, and to\nwhich the evidence is to be applied.  It is quite idle to suppose, that\nan experiment made to ascertain the speed, when the power is worked up to\nthe greatest extent, can afford a fair criterion of that which an engine\nwill do in all states of the weather.  In the first place, locomotive\nengines are liable to be operated upon by the weather.  You are told that\nthey are affected by rain, and an attempt has been made to cover them;\nbut the wind will affect them, and any gale of wind which would affect\nthe traffic on the Mersey, would render it impossible to set off a\nlocomotive engine, either by poking up the fire, or keeping up the\npressure of the steam till the boiler is ready to burst.  I say so, for a\nscientific person happened to see a locomotive engine coming down an\ninclined plane, with a tolerable weight behind it, and he found that the\nstrokes were reduced from fifty to twelve, as soon as the wind acted upon\nit; so that every gale that would produce an interruption to the\nintercourse by the canals, would prevent the progress of a locomotive\nengine, so that they have no advantage in that respect.\"\n\n\n\n\nDIFFICULTIES ENCOUNTERED IN MAKING RAILWAY SURVEYS.\n\n\nDifficulties connected with making surveys of land were encountered from\nthe very commencement of railway enterprise.  The following dialogue on\nthe subject took place in the Committee of the House of Commons, April\n27, 1825.  Mr. Sergeant Spankie was the questioner and George Stephenson\nwas the respondent.\n\n_Q_.  \"You were asked about the quality of the soil through which you\nwere to bore in order to ascertain the strata, and you were rather\ntaunted because you had not ascertained the precise strata; had you any\nopportunity of boring?\"\n\n_A_.  \"I had none; I was threatened to be driven off the ground, and\nseverely used if I were found upon the ground.\"\n\n_Q_.  \"You were right, then, not to attempt to bore?\"\n\n_A_.  \"Of course, I durst not attempt to bore, after those threats.\"\n\n_Q_.  \"Were you exposed to any inconvenience in taking your surveys in\nconsequence of these interruptions?\"\n\n_A_.  \"We were.\"\n\n_Q_.  \"On whose property?\"\n\n_A_.  \"On my Lord Sefton's, Lord Derby's, and particularly Mr. Bradshaw's\npart.\"\n\n_Q_.  \"I believe you came near the coping of some of the canals?\"\n\n_A_.  \"I believe I was threatened to be ducked in the pond if I\nproceeded; and, of course we had a great deal of the survey to make by\nstealth, at the time the persons were at dinner; we could not get it by\nnight, and guns were discharged over the grounds belonging to Captain\nBradshaw, to prevent us; I can state further, I was twice turned off the\nground myself (Mr. Bradshaw's) by his men; and they said, if I did not go\ninstantly they would take me up, and carry me off to Worsley.\"\n\nCommittee.  _Q_.  \"Had you ever asked leave?\"\n\n_A_.  \"I did, of all the gentlemen to whom I have alluded; at least, if I\ndid not ask leave of all myself, I did of my Lord Derby, but I did not of\nLord Sefton, but the Committee had--at least I was so informed; and I\nlast year asked leave of Mr. Bradshaw's tenants to pass there, and they\ndenied me; they stated that damage had been done, and I said if they\nwould tell me what it was, I would pay them, and they said it was two\npounds, and I paid it, though I do not believe it amounted to one\nshilling.\"\n\n_Q_.  \"Do you suppose it is a likely thing to obtain leave from any\ngentleman to survey his land, when he knew that your men had gone upon\nhis land to take levels without his leave, and he himself found them\ngoing through the corn, and through the gardens of his tenants, and\ntrampling down the strawberry beds, which they were cultivating for the\nLiverpool market?\"\n\n_A_.  \"I have found it sometimes very difficult to get through places of\nthat kind.\"\n\nIn some cases, Mr. Williams remarks, large bodies of navvies were\ncollected for the defence of the surveyors; and being liberally provided\nwith liquor, and paid well for the task, they intimidated the rightful\nowners, who were obliged to be satisfied with warrants of committal and\ncharges of assault.  The navvies were the more willing to engage in such\nundertakings, because the project, if carried out, afforded them the\nprospect of increased labour.\n\n\n\n\nLIVERPOOL AND MANCHESTER RAILWAY.\n\n\nMr. C. F. Adams, jun., remarks:--\"It was this element of spontaneity,\ntherefore,--the instant and dramatic recognition of success, which gave a\npeculiar interest to everything connected with the Manchester and\nLiverpool railroad.  The whole world was looking at it, with a full\nrealizing sense that something great and momentous was impending.  Every\nday people watched the gradual development of the thing, and actually\ntook part in it.  In doing so they had sensations and those sensations\nthey have described.  There is consequently an element of human nature\nsurrounding it.  To their descriptions time has only lent a new\nfreshness.  They are full of honest wonder.  They are much better and\nmore valuable and more interesting now than they were fifty years ago,\nand for that reason are well worth exhuming.\n\n\"To introduce the contemporaneous story of the day, however, it is not\nnecessary even to briefly review the long series of events which had\nslowly led up to it.  The world is tolerably familiar with the early life\nof George Stephenson, and with the vexatious obstacles he had to overcome\nbefore he could even secure a trial for his invention.  The man himself,\nhowever, is an object of a good deal more curiosity to us, than he was to\nthose among whom he lived and moved.  A living glimpse at him now is\nworth dwelling upon, and is the best possible preface to any account of\nhis great day of life triumph.  Just such a glimpse of the man has been\ngiven to us at the moment when at last all difficulties had been\novercome--when the Manchester and Liverpool railroad was completed; and,\nliterally, not only the eyes of Great Britain but those of all civilized\ncountries were directed to it and to him who had originated it.  At just\nthat time it chanced that the celebrated actor, John Kemble, was\nfulfilling an engagement at Liverpool with his daughter, since known as\nMrs. Frances Kemble Butler.  The extraordinary social advantages the\nKemble family enjoyed gave both father and daughter opportunities such as\nseldom come in the way of ordinary mortals.  For the time being they\nwere, in fact, the lions of the stage, just as George Stephenson was the\nlion of the new railroad.  As was most natural the three lions were\nbrought together.  The young actress has since published her impressions,\njotted down at the time, of the old engineer.  Her account of a ride side\nby side with George Stephenson, on the seat of his locomotive, over the\nas yet unopened road, is one of the most interesting and life-like\nrecords we have of the man and the enterprise.  Perhaps it is the most\ninteresting.  The introduction is Mrs. Kemble's own, and written\nforty-six years after the experience:--\n\n\"While we were acting at Liverpool, an experimental trip was proposed\nupon the line of railway which was being constructed between Liverpool\nand Manchester, the first mesh of that amazing iron net which now covers\nthe whole surface of England, and all civilized portions of the earth.\nThe Liverpool merchants, whose far-sighted self-interest prompted to wise\nliberality, had accepted the risk of George Stephenson's magnificent\nexperiment, which the committee of inquiry of the House of Commons had\nrejected for the Government.  These men, of less intellectual culture\nthan the Parliament members, had the adventurous imagination proper to\ngreat speculators, which is the poetry of the counting house and wharf,\nand were better able to receive the enthusiastic infection of the great\nprojector's sanguine hope than the Westminster committee.  They were\nexultant and triumphant at the near completion of the work, though, of\ncourse, not without some misgivings as to the eventual success of the\nstupendous enterprise.  My father knew several of the gentlemen most\ndeeply interested in the undertaking, and Stephenson having proposed a\ntrial trip as far as the fifteen-mile viaduct, they, with infinite\nkindness, invited him and permitted me to accompany them: allowing me,\nmoreover, the place which I felt to be one of supreme honour, by the side\nof Stephenson.  All that wonderful history, as much more interesting than\na romance as truth is stranger than fiction, which Mr. Smiles's biography\nof the projector has given in so attractive a form to the world, I then\nheard from his own lips.  He was rather a stern-featured man, with a dark\nand deeply marked countenance: his speech was strongly inflected with his\nnative Northumbrian accent, but the fascination of that story told by\nhimself, while his tame dragon flew panting along his iron pathway with\nus, passed the first reading of the Arabian Nights, the incidents of\nwhich it almost seemed to recall.  He was wonderfully condescending and\nkind, in answering all the questions of my eager ignorance, and I\nlistened to him with eyes brimful of warm tears of sympathy and\nenthusiasm, as he told me of all his alternations of hope and fear, of\nhis many trials and disappointments, related with fine scorn, how the\n\"Parliament men\" had badgered and baffled him with their book-knowledge,\nand how, when at last they had smothered the irrepressible prophecy of\nhis genius in the quaking depths of Chat Moss, he had exclaimed, 'Did ye\never see a boat float on water?  I will make my road float upon Chat\nMoss!'  The well-read Parliament men (some of whom, perhaps, wished for\nno railways near their parks and pleasure-grounds) could not believe the\nmiracle, but the shrewd Liverpool merchants, helped to their faith by a\ngreat vision of immense gain, did; and so the railroad was made, and I\ntook this memorable ride by the side of its maker, and would not have\nexchanged the honour and pleasure of it for one of the shares in the\nspeculation.\"\n\n                                            \"LIVERPOOL, August 26th, 1830.\n\n\"MY DEAR H--: A common sheet of paper is enough for love, but a foolscap\nextra can only contain a railroad and my ecstasies.  There was once a man\nborn at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, who was a common coal-digger; this man had\nan immense constructiveness, which displayed itself in pulling his watch\nto pieces and putting it together again; in making a pair of shoes when\nhe happened to be some days without occupation; finally--here there is a\ngreat gap in my story--it brought him in the capacity of an engineer\nbefore a Committee of the House of Commons, with his head full of plans\nfor constructing a railroad from Liverpool to Manchester.  It so happened\nthat to the quickest and most powerful perceptions and conceptions, to\nthe most indefatigable industry and perseverance, and the most accurate\nknowledge of the phenomena of nature as they affect his peculiar labours,\nthis man joined an utter want of the 'gift of gab;' he could no more\nexplain to others what he meant to do and how he meant to do it, than he\ncould fly, and therefore the members of the House of Commons, after\nsaying 'There is a rock to be excavated to a depth of more than sixty\nfeet, there are embankments to be made nearly to the same height, there\nis a swamp of five miles in length to be traversed, in which if you drop\nan iron rod it sinks and disappears; how will you do all this?' and\nreceiving no answer but a broad Northumbrian, 'I can't tell you how I'll\ndo it, but I can tell you I _will_ do it,' dismissed Stephenson as a\nvisionary.  Having prevailed upon a company of Liverpool gentlemen to be\nless incredulous, and having raised funds for his great undertaking, in\nDecember of 1826 the first spade was struck in the ground.  And now I\nwill give you an account of my yesterday's excursion.  A party of sixteen\npersons was ushered into a large court-yard, where, under cover, stood\nseveral carriages of a peculiar construction, one of which was prepared\nfor our reception.  It was a long-bodied vehicle with seats placed across\nit back to back; the one we were in had six of these benches, and was a\nsort of uncovered _char a banc_.  The wheels were placed upon two iron\nbands, which formed the road, and to which they are fitted, being so\nconstructed as to slide along without any danger of hitching or becoming\ndisplaced, on the same principle as a thing sliding on a concave groove.\nThe carriage was set in motion by a mere push, and, having received this\nimpetus, rolled with us down an inclined plane into a tunnel, which forms\nthe entrance to the railroad.  This tunnel is four hundred yards long (I\nbelieve), and will be lighted by gas.  At the end of it we emerged from\ndarkness, and, the ground becoming level, we stopped.  There is another\ntunnel parallel with this, only much wider and longer, for it extends\nfrom the place we had now reached, and where the steam carriages start,\nand which is quite out of Liverpool, the whole way under the town, to the\ndocks.  This tunnel is for wagons and other heavy carriages; and as the\nengines which are to draw the trains along the railroad do not enter\nthese tunnels, there is a large building at this entrance which is to be\ninhabited by steam engines of a stationary turn of mind, and different\nconstitution from the travelling ones, which are to propel the trains\nthrough the tunnels to the terminus in the town, without going out of\ntheir houses themselves.  The length of the tunnel parallel to the one we\npassed through is (I believe) two thousand two hundred yards.  I wonder\nif you are understanding one word I am saying all this while?  We were\nintroduced to the little engine which was to drag us along the rails.\nShe (for they make these curious little fire horses all mares) consisted\nof a boiler, a stove, a platform, a bench, and behind the bench a barrel\ncontaining enough water to prevent her being thirsty for fifteen\nmiles,--the whole machine not bigger than a common fire engine.  She goes\nupon two wheels, which are her feet, and are moved by bright steel legs\ncalled pistons; these are propelled by steam, and in proportion as more\nsteam is applied to the upper extremities (the hip-joints, I suppose) of\nthese pistons, the faster they move the wheels; and when it is desirable\nto diminish the speed, the steam, which unless suffered to escape would\nburst the boiler, evaporates through a safety valve into the air.  The\nreins, bit, and bridle of this wonderful beast, is a small steel handle,\nwhich applies or withdraws the steam from its legs or pistons, so that a\nchild might manage it.\n\n\"The coals, which are its oats, were under the bench, and there was a\nsmall glass tube affixed to the boiler, with water in it, which indicates\nby its fullness or emptiness when the creature wants water, which is\nimmediately conveyed to it from its reservoirs.  There is a chimney to\nthe stove, but as they burn coke there is none of the dreadful black\nsmoke which accompanies the progress of a steam vessel.  This snorting\nlittle animal, which I felt rather inclined to pat, was then harnessed to\nour carriage, and Mr. Stephenson having taken me on the bench of the\nengine with him, we started at about ten miles an hour.  The steam horse\nbeing ill adapted for going up and down hill, the road was kept at a\ncertain level, and appeared sometimes to sink below the surface of the\nearth and sometimes to rise above it.  Almost at starting it was cut\nthrough the solid rock, which formed a wall on either side of it, about\nsixty feet high.  You can't imagine how strange it seemed to be\njourneying on thus, without any visible cause of progress other than the\nmagical machine, with its flying white breath and rhythmical, unvarying\npace, between these rocky walls, which are already clothed with moss and\nferns and grasses; and when I reflected that these great masses of stone\nhad been cut asunder to allow our passage thus far below the surface of\nthe earth, I felt as if no fairy tale was ever half so wonderful as what\nI saw.  Bridges were thrown from side to side across the top of these\ncliffs, and the people looking down upon us from them seemed like pigmies\nstanding in the sky.  I must be more concise, though, or I shall want\nroom.  We were to go only fifteen miles, that distance being sufficient\nto show the speed of the engine, and to take us to the most beautiful and\nwonderful object on the road.  After proceeding through this rocky\ndefile, we presently found ourselves raised upon embankments ten or\ntwelve feet high; we then came to a moss or swamp, of considerable\nextent, on which no human foot could tread without sinking, and yet it\nbore the road which bore us.  This had been the great stumbling-block in\nthe minds of the committee of the House of Commons; but Mr. Stephenson\nhas succeeded in overcoming it.  A foundation of hurdles, or, as he\ncalled it, basket-work, was thrown over the morass, and the interstices\nwere filled with moss and other elastic matter.\n\n\"Upon this the clay and soil were laid down, and the road does float, for\nwe passed over it at the rate of five and twenty miles an hour, and saw\nthe stagnant swamp water trembling on the surface of the soil on either\nside of us.  I hope you understand me.  The embankment had gradually been\nrising higher and higher, and in one place where the soil was not settled\nenough to form banks, Stephenson had constructed artificial ones of\nwoodwork, over which the mounds of earth were heaped, for he said that\nthough the woodwork would rot, before it did so the banks of earth which\ncovered it would have been sufficiently consolidated to support the road.\nWe had now come fifteen miles, and stopped where the road traversed a\nwide and deep valley.  Stephenson made me alight and led me down to the\nbottom of this ravine, over which, in order to keep his road level, he\nhas thrown a magnificent viaduct of nine arches, the middle one of which\nis seventy feet high, through which we saw the whole of this beautiful\nlittle valley.  It was lovely and wonderful beyond all words.  He here\ntold me many curious things respecting this ravine; how he believed the\nMersey had once rolled through it; how the soil had proved so unfavorable\nfor the foundation of his bridge that it was built upon piles, which had\nbeen driven into the earth to an enormous depth; how while digging for a\nfoundation he had come to a tree bedded in the earth, fourteen feet below\nthe surface of the ground; how tides are caused, and how another flood\nmight be caused; all of which I have remembered and noted down at much\ngreater length than I can enter upon here.  He explained to me the whole\nconstruction of the steam engine, and said he could soon make a famous\nengineer of me, which, considering the wonderful things he has achieved,\nI dare not say is impossible.  His way of explaining himself is peculiar,\nbut very striking, and I understood, without difficulty, all that he said\nto me.  We then rejoined the rest of the party, and the engine having\nreceived its supply of water, the carriage was placed behind it, for it\ncannot turn, and was set off at its utmost speed, thirty-five miles an\nhour, swifter than a bird flies (for they tried the experiment with a\nsnipe).  You cannot conceive what that sensation of cutting the air was;\nthe motion is as smooth as possible, too.  I could either have read or\nwritten; and as it was, I stood up, and with my bonnet off 'drank the air\nbefore me.'  The wind, which was strong, or perhaps the force of our own\nthrusting against it, absolutely weighed my eyelids down.\n\n\"When I closed my eyes this sensation of flying was quite delightful, and\nstrange beyond description; yet strange as it was, I had a perfect sense\nof security, and not the slightest fear.  At one time, to exhibit the\npower of the engine, having met another steam-carriage which was\nunsupplied with water, Mr. Stephenson caused it to be fastened in front\nof ours; moreover, a wagon laden with timber was also chained to us, and\nthus propelling the idle steam-engine, and dragging the loaded wagon\nwhich was beside it and our own carriage full of people behind, this\nbrave little she-dragon of ours flew on.  Farther on she met three carts,\nwhich, being fastened in front of her, she pushed on before her without\nthe slightest delay or difficulty; when I add that this pretty little\ncreature can run with equal facility either backwards or forwards, I\nbelieve I have given you an account of all her capacities.  Now for a\nword or two about the master of all these marvels, with whom I am most\nhorribly in love.  He is a man from fifty to fifty-five years of age; his\nface is fine, though careworn, and bears an expression of deep\nthoughtfulness; his mode of explaining his ideas is peculiar and very\noriginal, striking, and forcible; and although his accents indicates\nstrongly his north country birth, his language has not the slightest\ntouch of vulgarity or coarseness.  He has certainly turned my head.  Four\nyears have sufficed to bring this great undertaking to an end.  The\nrailroad will be opened upon the fifteenth of next month.  The Duke of\nWellington is coming down to be present on the occasion, and, I suppose,\nwhat with the thousands of spectators and the novelty of the spectacle,\nthere will never have been a scene of more striking interest.  The whole\ncost of the work (including the engines and carriages) will have been\neight hundred and thirty thousand pounds; and it is already worth double\nthat sum.  The directors have kindly offered us three places for the\nopening, which is a great favour, for people are bidding almost anything\nfor a place, I understand.\"\n\nEven while Miss Kemble was writing this letter, certainly before it had\nreached her correspondent, the official programme of that opening to\nwhich she was so eagerly looking forward was thus referred to in the\nLiverpool papers:\n\n\"The day of opening still remains fixed for Wednesday the fifteenth\ninstant.  The company by whom the ceremony is to be performed, is\nexpected to amount to eight or nine hundred persons, including the Duke\nof Wellington and several others of the nobility.  They will leave\nLiverpool at an early hour in the forenoon, probably ten o'clock, in\ncarriages drawn by eight or nine engines, including the new engine of\nMessrs. Braithwaite and Ericsson, if it be ready in time.  The other\nengines will be those constructed by Mr. Stephenson, and each of them\nwill draw about a hundred persons.  On their arrival at Manchester, the\ncompany will enter the upper stories of the warehouses by means of a\nspacious outside wooden staircase, which is in course of erection for the\npurpose by Mr. Bellhouse.  The upper storey of the range of warehouses is\ndivided into five apartments, each measuring sixty-six feet by fifty-six.\nIn four of these a number of tables (which Mr. Bellhouse is also\npreparing) will be placed, and the company will partake of a splendid\ncold collation which is to be provided by Mr. Lynn, of the Waterloo\nHotel, Liverpool.  A large apartment at the east end of the warehouses\nwill be reserved as a withdrawing room for the ladies, and is partitioned\noff for that purpose.  After partaking of the hospitality of the\ndirectors, the company will return to Liverpool in the same order in\nwhich they arrive.  We understand that each shareholder in the railway\nwill be entitled to a seat (transferable) in one of the carriages, on\nthis interesting and important occasion.  It may be proper to state, for\nthe information of the public, that no one will be permitted to go upon\nthe railway between Ordsall lane and the warehouses, and parties of the\nmilitary and police will be placed to preserve order, and prevent\nintrusion.  Beyond Ordsall lane, however, the public will be freely\nadmitted to view the procession as it passes: and no restriction will be\nlaid upon them farther than may be requisite to prevent them from\napproaching too close to the rails, lest accidents should occur.  By\nextending themselves along either side of the road towards Eccles any\nnumber of people, however great, may be easily accommodated.\"\n\nOf the carrying out on the 15th the programme thus carefully laid down, a\ncontemporaneous reporter has left the following account:--\n\n\"The town itself [Liverpool] was never so full of strangers; they poured\nin during the last and the beginning of the present week from almost all\nparts of the three kingdoms, and we believe that through Chester alone,\nwhich is by no means a principal road to Liverpool, four hundred extra\npassengers were forwarded on Tuesday.  All the inns in the town were\ncrowded to overflowing, and carriages stood in the streets at night, for\nwant of room in the stable yards.\n\n\"On the morning of Wednesday the population of the town and of the\ncountry began very early to assemble near the railway.  The weather was\nfavourable, and the Company's station at the boundary of the town was the\nrendezvous of the nobility and gentry who attended, to form the\nprocession at Manchester.  Never was there such an assemblage of rank,\nwealth, beauty, and fashion in this neighbourhood.  From before nine\no'clock until ten the entrance in Crown street was thronged by the\nsplendid equipages from which the company was alighting, and the area in\nwhich the railway carriages were placed was gradually filling with gay\ngroups eagerly searching for their respective places, as indicated by\nnumbers corresponding with those on their tickets.  The large and elegant\ncar constructed for the nobility, and the accompanying cars for the\nDirectors and the musicians were seen through the lesser tunnel, where\npersons moving about at the far end appeared as diminutive as if viewed\nthrough a concave glass.  The effect was singular and striking.  In a\nshort time all those cars were brought along the tunnel into the yard\nwhich then contained all the carriages, which were to be attached to the\neight locomotive engines which were in readiness beyond the tunnel in the\ngreat excavation at Edge-hill.  By this time the area presented a\nbeautiful spectacle, thirty-three carriages being filled by elegantly\ndressed persons, each train of carriages being distinguished by silk\nflags of different colours; the band of the fourth King's Own Regiment,\nstationed in the adjoining area, playing military airs, the Wellington\nHarmonic Band, in a Grecian car for the procession, performing many\nbeautiful miscellaneous pieces; and a third band occupying a stage above\nMr. Harding's Grand Stand, at William the Fourth's Hotel, spiritedly\nadding to the liveliness of the hour whenever the other bands ceased.\n\n\"A few minutes before ten, the discharge of a gun and the cheers of the\nassembly announced the arrival of the Duke of Wellington, who entered the\narea with the Marquis and Marchioness of Salisbury and a number of\nfriends, the band playing 'See the conquering hero comes.'  He returned\nthe congratulations of the company, and in a few moments the grand car,\nwhich he and the nobility and the principal gentry occupied, and the cars\nattached to it, were permitted to proceed; we say permitted, because no\napplied power, except a slight impulse at first, is requisite to propel\ncarriages along the tunnel, the <DW72> being just sufficient to call into\neffect the principle of gravitation.  The tunnel was lighted with gas,\nand the motion in passing through it must have been as pleasing as it was\nnovel to all the party.  On arriving at the engine station, the cars were\nattached to the _Northumbrian_ locomotive engine, on the southern of the\ntwo lines of rail; and immediately the other trains of carriages started\nthrough the tunnel and were attached to their respective engines on the\nnorthern of the lines.\n\n\"We had the good fortune to have a place in the first train after the\ngrand cars, which train, drawn by the _Phoenix_, consisted of three open\nand two close carriages, each carrying twenty-six ladies and gentlemen.\nThe lofty banks of the engine station were crowded with thousands of\nspectators, whose enthusiastic cheering seemed to rend the air.  From\nthis point to Wavertree-lane, while the procession was forming, the grand\ncars passed and repassed the other trains of carriages several times,\nrunning as they did in the same direction on the two parallel tracks,\nwhich gave the assembled thousands and tens of thousands the opportunity\nof seeing distinctly the illustrious strangers, whose presence gave\nextraordinary interest to the scene.  Some soldiers of the 4th Regiment\nassisted the railway police in keeping the way clear and preserving\norder, and they discharged their duty in a very proper manner.  A few\nminutes before eleven all was ready for the journey, and certainly a\njourney upon a railway is one of the most delightful that can be\nimagined.  Our first thoughts it might be supposed, from the road being\nso level, were that it must be monotonous and uninteresting.  It is\nprecisely the contrary; for as the road does not rise and fall like the\nground over which we pass, but proceeds nearly at a level, whether the\nland be high or low, we are at one moment drawn through a hill, and find\nourselves seventy feet below the surface, in an Alpine chasm, and at\nanother we are as many feet above the green fields, traversing a raised\npath, from which we look down upon the roofs of farm houses, and see the\ndistant hills and woods.  These variations give an interest to such a\njourney which cannot be appreciated until they are witnessed.  The signal\ngun being fired, we started in beautiful style, amidst the deafening\nplaudits of the well dressed people who thronged the numerous booths, and\nall the walls and eminences on both sides the line.  Our speed was\ngradually increased till, entering the Olive Mountain excavation, we\nrushed into the awful chasm at the rate of twenty-four miles an hour.\nThe banks, the bridges over our heads, and the rude projecting corners\nalong the sides, were covered with masses of human beings past whom we\nglided as if upon the wings of the wind.  We soon came into the open\ncountry of Broad Green, having fine views of Huyton and Prescot on the\nleft, and the hilly grounds of Cheshire on the right.  Vehicles of every\ndescription stood in the fields on both sides, and thousands of\nspectators still lined the margin of the road; some horses seemed\nalarmed, but after trotting with their carriages to the farther hedges,\nthey stood still as if their fears had subsided.  After passing Whiston,\nsometimes going slowly, sometimes swiftly, we observed that a vista\nformed by several bridges crossing the road gave a pleasing effect to the\nview.  Under Rainhill Bridge, which, like all the others, was crowded\nwith spectators, the Duke's car stopped until we passed, and on this, as\non similar occasions, we had excellent opportunities of seeing the whole\nof the noble party, distinguishing the Marquis and Marchioness of\nSalisbury, the Earl and Countess of Wilton, Lord Stanley, and others, in\nthe fore part of the car; alongside of the latter part was Mr. Huskisson,\nstanding with his face always toward us; and further behind was Lord\nHill, and others, among whom the Mayor of Liverpool took his station.  At\nthis place Mr. Bretherton had a large party of friends in a field,\noverlooking the road.  As we approached the Sutton inclined plane the\nDuke's car passed us again at a most rapid rate--it appeared rapid even\nto us who were travelling then at, probably, fifteen miles an hour.  We\nhad a fine view of Billings Hill from this neighbourhood, and of a\nthousand various  fields.  A grand stand was here erected,\nbeautifully decorated, and crowded with ladies and gentlemen from St.\nHelen's and the neighbourhood.  Entering upon Parr Moss we had a good\nview of Newton Race Course and the stands, and at this time the Duke was\nfar ahead of us; the grand cars appeared actually of diminutive\ndimensions, and in a short time we saw them gliding beautifully over the\nSankey Viaduct, from which a scene truly magnificent lay before us.\n\n\"The fields below us were occupied by thousands who cheered us as we\npassed over the stupendous edifice; carriages filled the narrow lanes,\nand vessels in the water had been detained in order that their crews\nmight gaze up at the gorgeous pageant passing far above their masts\nheads.  Here again was a grand stand, and here again enthusiastic\nplaudits almost deafened us.  Shortly, we passed the borough of Newton,\ncrossing a fine bridge over the Warrington road, and reached Parkside,\nseventeen miles from Liverpool, in about four minutes under the hour.  At\nthis place the engines were ranged under different watering stations to\nreceive fresh water, the whole extending along nearly half a mile of\nroad.  Our train and two others passed the Duke's car, and we in the\nfirst train had had our engine supplied with water, and were ready to\nstart, some time before we were aware of the melancholy cause of our\napparently great delay.  We had most of us, alighted, and were walking\nabout, congratulating each other generally, and the ladies particularly,\non the truly delightful treat we were enjoying, all hearts bounding with\njoyous excitement, and every tongue eloquent in the praise of the\ngigantic work now completed, and the advantages and pleasures it\nafforded.  A murmur and an agitation at a little distance betokened\nsomething alarming and we too soon learned the nature of that lamentable\nevent, which we cannot record without the most agonized feelings.  On\ninquiring, we learnt the dreadful particulars.  After three of the\nengines with their trains had passed the Duke's carriage, although the\nothers had to follow, the company began to alight from all the carriages\nwhich had arrived.  The Duke of Wellington and Mr. Huskisson had just\nshaken hands, and Mr. Huskisson, Prince Esterhazy, Mr. Birch, Mr. H.\nEarle, Mr. William Holmes, M.P., and others were standing in the road,\nwhen the other carriages were approaching.  An alarm being given, most of\nthe gentlemen sprang into the carriage, but Mr. Huskisson seemed\nflurried, and from some cause, not clearly ascertained, he fell under the\nengine of the approaching carriages, the wheel of which shattered his leg\nin the most dreadful manner.  On being raised from the ground by the Earl\nof Wilton, Mr. Holmes, and other gentlemen, his only exclamations\nwere:--\"Where is Mrs. Huskisson?  I have met my death.  God forgive me.\"\nImmediately after he swooned.  Dr. Brandreth, and Dr. Southey, of London,\nimmediately applied bandages to the limb.  In a short time the engine was\ndetached from the Duke's carriage, and the musician's car being prepared\nfor the purpose, the Right Honourable gentleman was placed in it,\naccompanied by his afflicted lady, with Dr. Brandreth, Dr. Southey, Earl\nof Wilton, and Mr. Stephenson, who set off in the direction of\nManchester.\n\n\"The whole of the procession remained at least another hour uncertain\nwhat course to adopt.  A consultation was held on the open part of the\nroad, and the Duke of Wellington was soon surrounded by the Directors,\nand a mournful group of gentlemen.  At first it was thought advisable to\nreturn to Liverpool, merely despatching one engine and a set of\ncarriages, to convey home Lady Wilton, and others who did not wish to\nreturn to Liverpool.  The Duke of Wellington and Sir Robert Peel seemed\nto favour this course; others thought it best to proceed as originally\nintended: but no decision was made till the Boroughreeve of Manchester\nstated, that if the procession did not reach Manchester, where an\nunprecedented concourse of people would be assembled, and would wait for\nit, he should be fearful of the consequences to the peace of the town.\nThis turned the scale, and his Grace then proposed that the whole party\nshould proceed, and return as soon as possible, all festivity at\nManchester being avoided.  The _Phoenix_, with its train, was then\nattached to the _North Star_ and its train, and from the two united a\nlong chain was affixed to his Grace's car, and although it was on the\nother line of rail, it was found to draw the whole along exceedingly\nwell.  About half-past one, we resumed our journey; and we should here\nmention that the Wigan Branch Railway Company had erected near Parkside\nbridge a grand stand, which they and their friends occupied, and from\nwhich they enthusiastically cheered the procession.  On reaching the\ntwentieth mile post we had a beautiful view of Rivington Pike and\nBlackstone Edge, and at the twenty-first the smoke of Manchester appeared\nto be directly at the termination of our view.  Groups of people\ncontinued to cheer us, but we could not reply; our enjoyment was over.\nTyldesley Church, and a vast region of smiling fields here met the eye,\nas we traversed the flat surface of Chat Moss, in the midst of which a\nvast crowd was assembled to greet us with their plaudits; and from the\ntwenty-fourth mile post we began to find ourselves flanked on both sides\nby spectators extending in a continuous and thickening body all the way\nto Manchester.  At the twenty-fifth mile post we met Mr. Stephenson\nreturning with the _Northumbrian_ engine.  In answer to innumerable and\neager inquiries, Mr. Stephenson said he had left Mr. Huskisson at the\nhouse of the Rev. Mr. Blackburne, Vicar of Eccles, and had then proceeded\nto Manchester, whence he brought back medical assistance, and that the\nsurgeons, after seeing Mr. Huskisson, had expressed a hope that there was\nno danger.  Mr. Stephenson's speed had been at the rate of thirty-four\nmiles an hour during this painful errand.  The engine being then again\nattached to the Duke's car, the procession dashed forward, passing\ncountless thousands of people upon house tops, booths, high ground,\nbridges, etc., and our readers must imagine, for we cannot describe, such\na movement through an avenue of living beings, and extending six miles in\nlength.  Upon one bridge a tri- flag was displayed; near another\nthe motto of \"Vote by ballot\" was seen; in a field near Eccles, a poor\nand wretchedly dressed man had his loom close to the roadside, and was\nweaving with all his might; cries of \"No Corn Laws,\" were occasionally\nheard, and for about two miles the cheerings of the crowd were\ninterspersed with a continual hissing and hooting from the minority.  On\napproaching the bridge which crosses the Irwell, the 59th regiment was\ndrawn up, flanking the road on each side, and presenting arms as his\nGrace passed along.  We reached the warehouses at a quarter before three,\nand those who alighted were shown into the large upper rooms where a most\nelegant cold collation had been prepared by Mr. Lynn, for more than one\nthousand persons.  The greater portion of the company, as the carriages\ncontinued to arrive, visited the rooms and partook in silence of some\nrefreshment.  They then returned to their carriages which had been\nproperly placed for returning.  His Grace and the principal party did not\nalight; but he went through a most fatiguing office for more than an hour\nand a half, in shaking hands with thousands of people, to whom he stooped\nover the hand rail of the carriage, and who seemed insatiable in their\ndesire to join hands with him.  Many women brought their children to him,\nlifting them up that he might bless them, which he did, and during the\nwhole time he had scarcely a minute's respite.  At half-past four the\nDuke's car began to move away for Liverpool.\n\n\"They would have been detained a little longer, in order that three of\nthe engines, which had been to Eccles for water, might have dropped into\nthe rear to take their places; but Mr. Lavender represented that the\ncrowd was so thickening in upon all sides, and becoming so clamorous for\nadmission into the area, that he would not answer for the peace of the\ntown, if further delay took place.  The three engines were on the same\nline of rail as the Duke, and they could not cross to the other line\nwithout getting to a turning place, and as the Duke could not be delayed\non account of his keeping the crowd together, there was no alternative\nbut to send the engines forward.  One of the other engines was then\nattached to our train, and we followed the Duke rapidly, while the six\ntrains behind had only three engines left to bring them back.  Of course,\nwe kept pace with the Duke, who stopped at Eccles to inquire after Mr.\nHuskisson.  The answer received was that there was now no hope of his\nlife being saved; and this intelligence plunged the whole party into\nstill deeper distress.  We proceeded without meeting any fresh incident\nuntil we passed Prescot, where we found two of the three engines at the\n6.5 mile post, where a turning had been effected, but the third had gone\non to Liverpool; we then detached the one we had borrowed, and the three\nset out to meet the six remaining trains of carriages.  Our carriages\nwere then connected with the grand cars, the engine of which now drew the\nwhole number of nine carriages, containing nearly three hundred persons,\nat a very smart rate.  We were now getting into vast crowds of people,\nmost of them ignorant of the dreadful event which had taken place, and\nall of them giving us enthusiastic cheers which we could not return.\n\n\"At Roby, his Grace and the Childwalls alighted and proceeded home; our\ncarriages then moved forward to Liverpool, where we arrived about seven\no'clock, and went down the great tunnel, under the town, a part of the\nwork which, more than any other, astonished the numerous strangers\npresent.  It is, indeed, a wonderful work, and makes an impression never\nto be effaced from the memory.  The Company's yard, from St. James's\nStreet to Wapping, was filled with carriages waiting for the returning\nparties, who separated with feelings of mingled gratification and\ndistress, to which we shall not attempt to give utterance.  We afterwards\nlearnt that the parties we left at Manchester placed the three remaining\nengines together, and all the carriages together, so as to form one grand\nprocession, including twenty-four carriages, and were coming home at a\nsteady pace, when they were met near Newton, by the other three engines,\nwhich were then attached to the rest, and they arrived in Liverpool about\nten o'clock.\n\n\"Thus ended a pageant which, for importance as to its object and grandeur\nin its details, is admitted to have exceeded anything ever witnessed.  We\nconversed with many gentlemen of great experience in public life, who\nspoke of the scene as surpassing anything they had ever beheld, and who\ncomputed, upon data which they considered to be satisfactory, that not\nfewer than 500,000 persons must have been spectators of the procession.\"\n\nSo far from being a success, the occasion was, after the accident to Mr.\nHuskisson, such a series of mortifying disappointments and the Duke of\nWellington's experience at Manchester had been so very far removed from\ngratifying that the directors of the company felt moved to exonerate\nthemselves from the load of censure by an official explanation.  This\nthey did in the following language:--\n\n\"On the subject of delay which took place in the starting from\nManchester, and consequently in the arrival at Liverpool, of the last\nthree engines, with twenty-four carriages and six hundred passengers,\nbeing the train allotted to six of the engines, we are authorized to\nstate that the directors think it due to the proprietors and others\nconstituting the large assemblage of company in the above trains to make\nknown the following particulars:\n\n\"Three out of the six locomotive engines which belonged to the above\ntrains had proceeded on the south road from Manchester to Eccles, to take\nin water, with the intention of returning to Manchester, and so getting\nout of that line of road before any of the trains should start on their\nreturn home.  Before this, however, was accomplished, the following\ncircumstances seemed to render it imperative for the train of carriages\ncontaining the Duke of Wellington and a great many of the distinguished\nvisitors to leave Manchester.  The eagerness on the part of the crowd to\nsee the Duke, and to shake hands with him, was very great, so much so\nthat his Grace held out both his hands to the pressing multitude at the\nsame time; the assembling crowd becoming more dense every minute, closely\nsurrounded the carriages, as the principal attraction was this particular\ntrain.  The difficulty of proceeding at all increased every moment and\nconsequently the danger of accident upon the attempt being made to force\na way through the throng also increased.  At this juncture Mr. Lavender,\nthe head of the police establishment of Manchester, interfered, and\nentreated that the Duke's train should move on, or he could not answer\nfor the consequences.  Under these circumstances, and the day being well\nadvanced, it was thought expedient at all events to move forward while it\nwas still practicable to do so.  The order was accordingly given, and the\ntrain passed along out of the immediate neighbourhood of Manchester\nwithout accident to anyone.  When they had proceeded a few miles they\nfell in with the engines belonging to the trains left at Manchester, and\nthese engines being on the same line as the carriages of the procession,\nthere was no alternative but bringing the Duke's train back through the\ndense multitude to Manchester, or proceeding with three extra engines to\nthe neighbourhood of Liverpool (all passing places from one road to the\nother being removed, with a view to safety, on the occasion), and\nafterwards sending them back to the assistance of the trains\nunfortunately left behind.  It was determined to proceed towards\nLiverpool, as being decidedly the most advisable course under the\ncircumstances of the case; and it may be mentioned for the satisfaction\nof any party who may have considered that he was in some measure left in\nthe lurch, that Mr. Moss, the Deputy Chairman, had left Mrs. Moss and\nseveral of his family to come with the trains which had been so left\nbehind.  Three engines having to draw a load calculated for six, their\nprogress was of course much retarded, besides a considerable delay which\ntook place before the starting of the last trains, owing to the\nuncertainty which existed as to what had become of the three missing\nengines.  These engines, after proceeding to within a few miles of\nLiverpool, were enabled to return to Park-side, in the neighbourhood of\nNewton, where they were attached to the other three and the whole\nproceeding safely to Liverpool, where they arrived at ten in the\nevening.\"\n\nThe case was, however, here stated, to say the least, in the mildest\npossible manner.  The fact was that the authorities at Manchester had,\nand not without reason, passed a very panic-stricken hour on account of\nthe Duke of Wellington.  That personage had been in a position of no\ninconsiderable peril.  Though the reporter preserved a decorous silence\non that point, the ministerial car had on the way been pelted, as well as\nhooted; and at Manchester a vast mass of not particularly well disposed\npersons had fairly overwhelmed both police and soldiery, and had taken\ncomplete possession of the tracks.  They were not riotous but they were\nvery rough; and they insisted on climbing upon the carriages and pressing\ntheir attentions on the distinguished inmates in a manner somewhat at\nvariance with English ideas of propriety.  The Duke's efforts at\nconciliatory manners, as evinced through much hand-shaking, were not\nwithout significance.  It was small matter for wonder, therefore, that\nthe terrified authorities, before they got him out of their town,\nheartily regretted that they had not allowed him to have his own way\nafter the accident to Mr. Huskisson, when he proposed to turn back\nwithout coming to it.  Having once got him safely started back to\nLiverpool, therefore, they preferred to leave the other guests to take\ncare of themselves, rather than have the Duke face the crowd again.  As\nthere were no sidings on that early road, and the connections between the\ntracks had, as a measure of safety, been temporarily removed, the\nministerial train in moving towards Liverpool had necessarily pushed\nbefore it the engines belonging to the other trains.  The unfortunate\nguests on those other trains, thus left to their fate, had for the rest\nof the day a very dreary time of it.  To avoid accidents, the six trains\nabandoned at Manchester were united into one, to which were attached the\nthree locomotives remaining.  In this form they started.  Presently the\nstrain broke the couplings.  Pieces of rope were then put in requisition,\nand again they got in motion.  In due time the three other engines came\nalong, but they could only be used by putting them on in front of the\nthree already attached to the train.  Two of them were used in that way,\nand the eleven cars thus drawn by five locomotives, and preceded at a\nshort distance by one other, went on towards Liverpool.  It was dark, and\nto meet the exigencies of the occasion the first germ of the present\nelaborate system of railroad night signals was improvised on the spot.\nFrom the foremost and pioneer locomotive obstacles were signalled to the\ntrain locomotives by the very primitive expedient of swinging the lighted\nend of a tar-rope.  At Rainhill the weight of the train proved too much\nfor the combined motive-power, and the thoroughly wearied passengers had\nto leave their carriages and walk up the incline.  When they got to the\nsummit and, resuming their seats, were again in motion, fresh delay was\noccasioned by the leading locomotive running into a wheel-barrow,\nmaliciously placed on the track to obstruct it.  Not until ten o'clock\ndid they enter the tunnel at Liverpool.  Meanwhile all sorts of rumours\nof general disaster had for hours been circulating among the vast\nconcourse of spectators who were assembled waiting for their friends, and\nwhose relief expressed itself in hearty cheers as the train at last\nrolled safely into the station.\n\nWe have also Miss Kemble's story of this day, to which in her letter of\nAugust 25th she had looked forward with such eager interest.  With her\nfather and mother she had been staying at a country place in Lancashire,\nand in her account of the affair, written in 1876, she says:--\n\n\"The whole gay party assembled at Heaton, my mother and myself included,\nwent to Liverpool for the opening of the railroad.  The throng of\nstrangers gathered there for the same purpose made it almost impossible\nto obtain a night's lodging for love or money; and glad and thankful were\nwe to put up with and be put up in a tiny garret by an old friend, Mr.\nRadley, of the Adelphi, which many would have given twice what we paid to\nobtain.  The day opened gloriously, and never was an innumerable\nconcourse of sight-seers in better humour than the surging, swaying crowd\nthat lined the railroad with living faces. . .  After this disastrous\nevent [the accident to Mr. Huskisson] the day became overcast, and as we\nneared Manchester the sky grew cloudy and dark, and it began to rain.\nThe vast concourse of people who had assembled to witness the triumphant\narrival of the successful travellers was of the lowest order of mechanics\nand artisans, among whom great distress and a dangerous spirit of\ndiscontent with the government at that time prevailed.  Groans and hisses\ngreeted the carriage, full of influential personages, in which the Duke\nof Wellington sat.  High above the grim and grimy crowd of scowling faces\na loom had been erected, at which sat a tattered, starved-looking weaver,\nevidently set there as a _representative man_, to protest against this\ntriumph of machinery, and the gain and glory which the wealthy Liverpool\nand Manchester men were likely to derive from it.  The contrast between\nour departure from Liverpool and our arrival at Manchester was one of the\nmost striking things I ever witnessed.\n\n                                     MANCHESTER, _September_ 20_th_, 1830.\n\nMY DEAREST H--:\n\n                                * * * * *\n\n\"You probably have by this time heard and read accounts of the opening of\nthe railroad, and the fearful accident which occurred at it, for the\npapers are full of nothing else.  The accident you mention did occur, but\nthough the unfortunate man who was killed bore Mr. Stephenson's name, he\nwas not related to him.  [Besides Mr. Huskisson, another man named\nStephenson had about this time been killed on the railroad].  I will tell\nyou something of the events on the fifteenth, as though you may be\nacquainted with the circumstances of poor Mr. Huskisson's death, none but\nan eye-witness of the whole scene can form a conception of it.  I told\nyou that we had had places given to us, and it was the main purpose of\nour returning from Birmingham to Manchester to be present at what\npromised to be one of the most striking events in the scientific annals\nof our country.  We started on Wednesday last, to the number of about\neight hundred people, in carriages constructed as I before described to\nyou.  The most intense curiosity and excitement prevailed, and though the\nweather was uncertain, enormous masses of densely packed people lined the\nroad, shouting and waving hats and handkerchiefs as we flew by them.\nWhat with the sight and sound of these cheering multitudes and the\ntremendous velocity with which we were borne past them, my spirits rose\nto the true champagne height, and I never enjoyed anything so much as the\nfirst hour of our progress.  I had been unluckily separated from my\nmother in the first distribution of places, but by an exchange of seats\nwhich she was enabled to make she rejoined me, when I was at the height\nof my ecstasy, which was considerably damped by finding that she was\nfrightened to death, and intent upon nothing but devising means of\nescaping from a situation which appeared to her to threaten with instant\nannihilation herself and all her travelling companions.  While I was\nchewing the cud of this disappointment, which was rather bitter, as I\nexpected her to be as delighted as myself with our excursion, a man flew\nby us, calling out through a speaking trumpet to stop the engine, for\nthat somebody in the directors' car had sustained an injury.  We were all\nstopped accordingly and presently a hundred voices were heard exclaiming\nthat Mr. Huskisson was killed.  The confusion that ensued is\nindescribable; the calling out from carriage to carriage to ascertain the\ntruth, the contrary reports which were sent back to us, the hundred\nquestions eagerly uttered at once, and the repeated and urgent demands\nfor surgical assistance, created a sudden turmoil that was quite\nsickening.  At last we distinctly ascertained that the unfortunate man's\nthigh was broken.\n\n\"From Lady W--, who was in the duke's carriage, and within three yards of\nthe spot where the accident happened, I had the following details, the\nhorror of witnessing which we were spared through our situation behind\nthe great carriage.  The engine had stopped to take in a supply of water,\nand several of the gentlemen in the directors' carriage had jumped out to\nlook about them.  Lord W--, Count Batthyany, Count Matuscenitz, and Mr.\nHuskisson among the rest were standing talking in the middle of the road,\nwhen an engine on the other line, which was parading up and down merely\nto show its speed, was seen coming down upon them like lightning.  The\nmost active of those in peril sprang back into their seats; Lord W--\nsaved his life only by rushing behind the duke's carriage, Count\nMatuscenitz had but just leaped into it, with the engine all but touching\nhis heels as he did so; while poor Mr. Huskisson, less active from the\neffects of age and ill health, bewildered too by the frantic cries of\n'Stop the engine: Clear the track!' that resounded on all sides,\ncompletely lost his head, looked helplessly to the right and left, and\nwas instantaneously prostrated by the fatal machine, which dashed down\nlike a thunderbolt upon him, and passed over his leg, smashing and\nmangling it in the most horrible way.  (Lady W-- said she distinctly\nheard the crushing of the bone).  So terrible was the effect of the\nappalling accident that except that ghastly 'crushing' and poor Mrs.\nHuskisson's piercing shriek, not a sound was heard or a word uttered\namong the immediate spectators of the catastrophe.  Lord W-- was the\nfirst to raise the poor sufferer, and calling to his aid his surgical\nskill, which is considerable, he tied up the severed artery, and for a\ntime at least, prevented death by a loss of blood.  Mr. Huskisson was\nthen placed in a carriage with his wife and Lord W--, and the engine\nhaving been detached from the directors' carriage, conveyed them to\nManchester.  So great was the shock produced on the whole party by this\nevent that the Duke of Wellington declared his intention not to proceed,\nbut to return immediately to Liverpool.  However, upon its being\nrepresented to him that the whole population of Manchester had turned out\nto witness the procession, and that a disappointment might give rise to\nriots and disturbances, he consented to go on, and gloomily enough the\nrest of the journey was accomplished.  We had intended returning to\nLiverpool by the railroad, but Lady W--, who seized upon me in the midst\nof the crowd, persuaded us to accompany her home, which we gladly did.\nLord W-- did not return till past ten o'clock, at which hour he brought\nthe intelligence of Mr. Huskisson's death.  I need not tell you of the\nsort of whispering awe which this event threw over our circle; and yet\ngreat as was the horror excited by it, I could not help feeling how\nevanescent the effect of it was, after all.  The shuddering terror of\nseeing our fellow-creature thus struck down by our side, and the\nbreathless thankfulness for our own preservation, rendered the first\nevening of our party at Heaton almost solemn; but the next day the\noccurrence became a subject of earnest, it is true, but free discussion;\nand after that was alluded to with almost as little apparent feeling as\nif it had not passed under our eyes, and within the space of a few\nhours.\"\n\n\n\n\nMRS. BLACKBURNE'S PRESENTIMENT.\n\n\nMiss Kemble was mistaken in stating Mr. Huskisson after his accident was\nremoved to Manchester.  He was conveyed to the vicarage, at Eccles, near\nManchester.  Of the vicar's wife, Dean Stanley's mother thus writes,\n(January 17, 1832,):--\"There is one person who interests me very much,\nMrs. Tom Blackburne, the Vicaress of Eccles, who received poor Mr.\nHuskisson, and immortalised herself by her activity, sense, and conduct\nthroughout.\"  A writer in the _Cornhill Magazine_, for March, 1884,\nreferring to the opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway,\nremarks:--\"In celebration of this experiment, for even then most people\nonly looked upon it as a doubtful thing, the houses of the adjacent parts\nof Lancashire were filled with guests.  Mr. John Blackburne, M.P., asked\nhis brother and sister-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Blackburne, to stay at\nHale Hall, near Liverpool, (which his ancestors in the direct line had\npossessed since 1199,) and to go with his party to the ceremony and fetes\nof the day.\n\nThe invitation was accepted, and Mr. and Mrs. Blackburne went to Hale.\nNow, however, occurred one of those strange circumstances utterly\ncondemned by critics of fiction as 'unreal,' 'unnatural,' or\n'impossible;' only in this case it happened to be true, in spite of all\nthese epithets.  Mrs. Blackburne, rather strong-minded than otherwise, at\nall events one of the last women in the world to be affected by\nimagination, became possessed by an unmistakable presentiment, which made\nher feel quite sure _that her presence was required at home_; _and she\nwent home at once_.  There were difficulties in her way; every carriage\nwas required, but she would go.  She drove to Warrington, and from thence\n'took boat' up the Irwell to Eccles.  Canal boats were then regular\nconveyances, divided into first and second classes.  There were no mobs\nor excitement anywhere on the 14th, and Mrs. Blackburne got quickly to\nEccles without any adventures.  When there, except that one of her\nchildren was unwell, she could find nothing wrong, or in the least likely\nto account for the presentiment which had driven her home in spite of all\nthe natural enough, ridicule of her husband and friends at Hale.\n\nEarly on the morning of the 15th, an incident occurred, the narration of\nwhich may throw some light on the temper of the times.  Mr. Barton, of\nSwinton, came to say that a mob was expected to come from Oldham to\nattack the Duke of Wellington, then at the height of his unpopularity\namong the masses; for just by Eccles three miles of the line was left\nunguarded, 'Could Mr. Blackburne say what was to be done?'\n\n'My husband is away,' said the Vicaress, 'but I know that about fifty\nspecial constables were out last year, the very men for this work, if\ntheir licenses have not expired.'\n\n'Never mind licenses,' replied Mr. Barton, with a superb indifference to\nform, quite natural under the circumstances.  'Where can I find the men?'\n\n'Oh,' replied Mrs. Blackburne, 'I can get the men for you.'\n\nMr. Barton hesitated, but soon with gratitude accepted the offer, and\nwith the help of the churchwardens and constables 'a guard for the Duke'\nwas soon collected on the bridge of Eccles, armed with staves and clubs\nto be dispersed along the line.\n\nThis done, she had a tent put up for herself and children, with whom were\nLord Wilton's little daughters, the Ladies Elizabeth and Katherine\nEgerton, and their governess.  The tent was just above the cutting and\nlooked down on to it, and they would have a good view of the first train,\nexpected to pass about eleven o'clock.  The morning wore on, the crowds\nwere increasing, and low murmurs of wonder were heard.  It was thought\nthat the experiment had failed.  A few of the villagers came into the\nfield, but none troubled the little band of watchers.  The bright\nsunshine had passed away, and it had become dark, with large hot drops of\nrain, forerunners of a coming thunderstorm.  The people lined the whole\nof the way from Manchester to Liverpool, and, as far as the eye could\nreach, faces were seen anxiously looking towards Liverpool.  Suddenly a\nstrange roar was heard from the crowd, not a cheer of triumph, but a\nprolonged wail, beginning at the furthest point of travelling along the\nswarming banks like the incoming swirl of a breaker as it runs upon a\ngravelled beach.\n\nLike a true woman, her first thought was for her husband, as Mrs.\nBlackburne heard the words repeated on all sides, 'An accident!'  'The\nVicarage!'  She flew across the field to the gate and met a sad\nprocession bringing in a sorely-wounded yet quite conscious man.  She saw\nin a moment that he had medals on his coat, and had been very tall, so\nthat it could not be as she feared.  The relief of that moment may be\nimagined.  Then the quiet presence of mind, by practice habitual to her,\nand the ready flow of sympathy left her no time to think of anything but\nthe sufferer, who said to her pathetically, 'I shall not trouble you\nlong!'  She had not only the will but the power to help, even to\nsupplying from her own medicine chest and stores, kept for the poor,\neverything that the surgeons required.\n\nIt was Lord Wilton who suggested the removal of Mr. Huskisson to Eccles\nVicarage and improvised a tourniquet on the spot, while soon the medical\nmen who were in the train did what they could for him.  Mr. Blackburne,\nas will be remembered, was not with his wife, and only the presentiment\nwhich had brought Mrs. Blackburne home had given the means of so readily\nand quickly obtaining surgical necessaries and rest.  Mr. Blackburne,\nwriting to his mother-in-law the day after this accident, referring to\nMr. Huskisson, remarks:--\"To the last he retained his senses.  Lord\nGranville says when the dying man heard Wilton propose to take him to\nthis house he exclaimed, 'Pray take me there; there I shall indeed be\ntaken care of.'\n\nBut fancy my horror!  _Not one word did I know of his being here till I\nhad passed the place_, _and was literally eating my luncheon at\nManchester_!  In vain did I try to get a conveyance, till at last the\nDuke of Wellington sent to me and ordered his car to start, and I came\nwith him back, he intending to come here; but the crowd was so _immense_\nthat the police dared not let him get out.  To be sure, when my people on\nthe bridge saw me standing with him, they did shout, 'That's as it should\nbe--Vicar for us!'  He said, 'These people seem to know you well.'\n\n_Entre nous_, at the door I met my love, and after a good cry (I don't\nknow which was the greatest fool!) set to work.  The poor fellow was glad\nto see me, and never shall I forget the scene, his poor wife holding his\nhead, and the great men weeping, for they all wept!  He then received the\nSacrament, added some codocils to his will, and seemed perfectly\nresigned.  But his agonies were dreadful!  Ransome says they must have\nbeen so.  He expired at nine.  We never left him till he breathed his\nlast.  Poor woman!  How she lamented his loss; yet her struggles to bear\nwith fortitude are wonderful.  I wish you could have heard him exclaim,\nafter my petition 'Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive . . . '  'I\nhave not the smallest ill-will to any one person in the whole world.'\nThey stay here until Saturday, when they begin the sad journey to convey\nhim to Sussex.  They wanted to bury him at Liverpool, but she refused.  I\nforgot to tell you that he told Lawrence before starting that he _wished\nhe were safe back_.\"\n\nMr. Huskisson was not buried at Chichester, for at last Mrs. Huskisson\nconsented to the popular wish that his body might have a public funeral\nat Liverpool, where a statue of him by Gibson now stands in the\ncemetery.\"\n\n\n\n\nELEVATED SIGHT-SEERS WISHING TO DESCEND.\n\n\nSir J. A. Picton, in his _Memorials of Liverpool_, relates an amusing\nincident connected with the opening of the railway at that town.  \"On the\nopening of the railway,\" he remarks, \"of course, every point and 'coin of\nvantage' from whence the procession could be best seen was eagerly\navailed of.  A tolerably high chimney had recently been built upon the\nrailway ground, affording a sufficient platform on the scaffolding at the\ntop for the accommodation of two or three persons.  Two gentlemen\nconnected with the engineer's department took advantage of this crowning\neminence to obtain a really 'bird's eye view' of the whole proceedings.\nThey were wound up by the tackle used in hoisting the bricks, and enjoyed\nthe perspective from their airy height to their hearts' content.  When\nall was over they, of course, wished to descend, and gave the signal to\nbe let down again, but alas! there was no response.  The man in charge,\nexcited by the events of the day, confused by the sorrowful news by which\nit was closed, and, it may be, oblivious from other causes, had utterly\nforgotten his engagement and gone home.  Here was a prospect!  The shades\nof evening were gathering, the multitudes departing, and every\nprobability of being obliged to act the part of St. Simeon of Stylites\nvery involuntarily.  Despair added force and strength to their lungs, and\nat length--their condition and difficulty having attracted\nattention--they were relieved from their unpleasant predicament.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE DUKE'S CARRIAGE.\n\n\nA correspondent of the _Athenaeum_, in 1830, speaking of the carriage\nprepared for the Duke of Wellington at the opening of the Liverpool and\nManchester Railway, remarks: \"It rather resembled an eastern pavilion\nthan anything our northern idea considers a carriage.  The floor is 32\nfeet long by 8 wide, gilt pillars support a crimson canopy 24 feet long,\nand it might for magnitude be likened to the car of Juggernaut; yet this\nhuge machine, with the preceding steam engine, moved along at its own\nfiery will even more swimmingly, a 'thing of heart and mind,' than a ship\non the ocean.\"\n\n\n\n\nLORD BROUGHAM'S SPEECH.\n\n\nAt a dinner given at Liverpool in celebration of the opening of the\nLiverpool and Manchester Railway, Lord Brougham thus discourses upon the\nmemorable event and the death of Mr. Huskisson:--\"When I saw the\ndifficulties of space, as it were, overcome; when I beheld a kind of\nmiracle exhibited before my astonished eyes; when I saw the rocks\nexcavated and the gigantic power of man penetrating through miles of the\nsolid mass, and gaining a great, a lasting, an almost perennial conquest\nover the powers of nature by his skill and industry; when I contemplated\nall this, was it possible for me to avoid the reflections which crowded\ninto my mind, not in praise of man's great success, not in admiration of\nthe genius and perseverance he had displayed, or even of the courage he\nhad shown in setting himself against the obstacles that matter afforded\nto his course--no! but the melancholy reflection that these prodigious\nefforts of the human race, so fruitful of praise but so much more\nfruitful of lasting blessing to mankind, have forced a tear from my eye\nby that unhappy casualty which deprived me of a friend and you of a\nrepresentative!\"\n\n\n\n\nAN EARLY RIDE ON THE LIVERPOOL AND MANCHESTER RAILWAY.\n\n\nNo account of its first beginnings would, however, be complete for our\ntime, which did not also give an idea of the impressions produced on one\ntravelling over it before yet the novelty of the thing had quite worn\naway.  It was a long time, comparatively, after September, 1830, before\nthe men who had made a trip over the railroad ceased to be objects of\ndeep curiosity.  Here is the account of his experience by one of these\nfar-travelled men, with all its freshness still lingering about it:--\n\n\"Although the whole passage between Liverpool and Manchester is a series\nof enchantments, surpassing any in the Arabian Nights, because they are\nrealities, not fictions, yet there are epochs in the transit which are\npeculiarly exciting.  These are the startings, the ascents, the descents,\nthe tunnels, the Chat Moss, the meetings.  At the instant of starting, or\nrather before, the automaton belches forth an explosion of steam, and\nseems for a second or two quiescent.  But quickly the explosions are\nreiterated, with shorter and shorter intervals, till they become too\nrapid to be counted, though still distinct.  These belchings or\nexplosions more nearly resemble the pantings of a lion or tiger, than any\nsound that has ever vibrated on my ear.  During the ascent they become\nslower and slower, till the automaton actually labours like an animal out\nof breath, from the tremendous efforts to gain the highest point of\nelevation.  The progression is proportionate; and before the said point\nis gained, the train is not moving faster than a horse can pace.  With\nthe slow motion of the mighty and animated machine, the breathing becomes\nmore laborious, the growl more distinct, till at length the animal\nappears exhausted and groans like the tiger, when overpowered in combat\nby the buffalo.\n\n\"The moment that the height is reached and the descent commences, the\npantings rapidly increase; the engine with its train starts off with\naugmenting velocity; and in a few seconds it is flying down the declivity\nlike lightning, and with a uniform growl or roar, like a continuous\ndischarge of distant artillery.\n\n\"At this period, the whole train is going at the rate of thirty-five or\nforty miles an hour!  I was on the outside, and in front of the first\ncarriage, just over the engine.  The scene was magnificent, I had almost\nsaid terrific.  Although it was a dead calm the wind appeared to be\nblowing a hurricane, such was the velocity with which we darted through\nthe air.  Yet all was steady; and there was something in the precision of\nthe machinery that inspired a degree of confidence over fear--of safety\nover danger.  A man may travel from the Pole to the Equator, from the\nStraits of Malacca to the Isthmus of Darien, and he will see nothing so\nastonishing as this.  The pangs of Etna and Vesuvius excite feelings of\nhorror as well as of terror; the convulsion of the elements during a\nthunderstorm carries with it nothing but pride, much less of pleasure, to\ncounteract the awe inspired by the fearful workings of perturbed nature;\nbut the scene which is here presented, and which I cannot adequately\ndescribe, engenders a proud consciousness of superiority in human\ningenuity, more intense and convincing than any effort or product of the\npoet, the painter, the philosopher, or the divine.  The projections or\ntransits of the train through the tunnels or arches are very\nelectrifying.  The deafening peal of thunder, the sudden immersion in\ngloom, and the clash of reverberated sounds in confined space combine to\nproduce a momentary shudder or idea of destruction--a thrill of\nannihilation, which is instantly dispelled on emerging into the cheerful\nlight.\n\n\"The meetings or crossings of the steam trains flying in opposite\ndirections are scarcely less agitating to the nerves than their transits\nthrough the tunnels.  The velocity of their course, the propinquity or\napparent identity of the iron orbits along which these meteors move, call\nforth the involuntary but fearful thought of a possible collision, with\nall its horrible consequences.  The period of suspense, however, though\nexquisitely painful, is but momentary; and in a few seconds the object of\nterror is far out of sight behind.\n\n\"Nor is the rapid passage across Chat Moss unworthy of notice.  The\ningenuity with which two narrow rods of iron are made to bear whole\ntrains of wagons, laden with many hundred tons of commerce, and bounding\nacross a wide, semi-fluid morass, previously impassable by man or beast,\nis beyond all praise and deserving of eternal record.  Only conceive a\nslender bridge of two minute iron rails, several miles in length, level\nas Waterloo, elastic as whalebone, yet firm as adamant!  Along this\nsplendid triumph of human genius--this veritable _via triumphalis_--the\ntrain of carriages bounds with the velocity of the stricken deer; the\nvibrations of the resilient moss causing the ponderous engine and its\nenormous suite to glide along the surface of an extensive quagmire as\nsafely as a practiced skater skims the icy mirror of a frozen lake.\n\n\"The first class or train is the most fashionable, but the second or\nthird are the most amusing.  I travelled one day from Liverpool to\nManchester in the lumber train.  Many of the carriages were occupied by\nthe swinish multitude, and others by a multitude of swine.  These last\nwere naturally vociferous if not eloquent.  It is evident that the other\npassengers would have been considerably annoyed by the orators of this\nlast group, had there not been stationed in each carriage an officer\nsomewhat analogous to the Usher of the Black Rod, but whose designation\non the railroad I found to be 'Comptroller of the Gammon.'  No sooner did\none of the long-faced gentlemen raise his note too high, or wag his jaw\ntoo long, than the 'Comptroller of the Gammon' gave him a whack over the\nsnout with the butt end of his shillelagh; a snubber which never failed\nto stop his oratory for the remainder of the journey.\"\n\nTo one familiar with the history of railroad legislation the last\nparagraph is peculiarly significant.  For years after the railroad system\nwas inaugurated, and until legislation was invoked to compel something\nbetter, the companies persisted in carrying passengers of the third class\nin uncovered carriages, exposed to all weather, and with no more\ndecencies or comforts than were accorded to swine.\n\n\n\n\nEARLY RAILWAY TRAVELLING.\n\n\nA writer in _Notes and Queries_ remarks:--\"On looking over a diary kept\nby my father during two journeys northward in 1830-31, I thought the\nreaders might be amused with his account of what he saw of railway\ntravelling, then in its infancy:--\n\n\"Monday, Oct. 11, 1830, Darlington.--Walked to the railroad, which comes\nwithin half-a-mile of the town.  Saw a steam engine drawing about\ntwenty-five wagons, each containing about two tons and a half of coals.\nA single horse draws four such wagons.  I went to Stockton at four\no'clock by coach on the railroad; one horse draws about twenty-four\npassengers.  I did not like it at all, for the road is very ugly in\nappearance, and, being only one line with occasional turns for passing,\nwe were sometimes obliged to wait, and at other times to be drawn back,\nso that we were full two hours going eleven miles, and they are often\nmore than three hours.  There is no other conveyance, as the cheapness\nhas driven the stage-coaches off the road.  I only paid 1s. for eleven\nmiles.  The motion was very unpleasant--a continual jolting and\ndisagreeable noise.\"\n\nOn Sept. 1, 1831, he remarks:--\"The railroad to Stockton has been\nimproved since I was here, as they are now laying down a second line.\"\n\n\"Wednesday, Oct. 27, 1830.--Left Manchester at ten o'clock by the\nrailroad for Liverpool.  We enter upon it by a staircase through the\noffice from the street at present, but there will, I suppose, be an open\nentrance, by-and-bye; they have built extensive warehouses adjoining.  We\nwere two hours and a half going to Liverpool (about thirty-two miles),\nand I must think the advantages have been a good deal overrated, for,\nprejudice apart, I think most people will allow that expedition is the\nonly real advantage gained; the road itself is ugly, though curious and\nwonderful as a work of art.  Near Liverpool it is cut very deeply through\nrock, and there is a long tunnel which leads into a yard where omnibusses\nwait to convey passengers to the inns.  The tunnel is too low for the\nengines at present in use, and the carriages are drawn through it by\ndonkeys.  The engines are calculated to draw fifty tons. . .  I cannot\nsay that I at all liked it; the speed was too great to be pleasant, and\nmakes you rather giddy, and certainly it is not smoother and easier than\na good turnpike road.  When the carriages stop or go on, a very violent\njolting takes place, from the ends of the carriages jostling together.  I\nhave heard many say they prefer a horse-coach, but the majority are in\nfavour of the railroad, and they will, no doubt, knock up the coaches.\"\n\n\"Monday, Sept. 12, 1831.--Left Manchester by coach at ten o'clock, and\narrived in Liverpool at half-past two. . .  The railroad is not supposed\nto answer vastly well, but they are making a branch to Warrington, which\nwill hurt the Sankey Navigation, and throw 1,500 men out of employment;\nthese people are said to be loud in their execrations of it, and to\nthreaten revenge.  It is certain the proprietors do not all feel easy\nabout it, as one living at Warrington has determined never to go by it,\nand was coming to Liverpool by our coach if there had been room.  He\nwould gladly sell his shares.  A dividend of 4 per cent. had been paid\nfor six months, but money had been borrowed. . . .  Charge for tonnage of\ngoods, 10s. for thirty-two miles, which appears very dear to me.\"\n\n\n\n\nCRABB ROBINSON'S FIRST RAILWAY JOURNEY.\n\n\n\"June 9th, 1833.--(Liverpool).  At twelve o'clock I got upon an omnibus,\nand was driven up a steep hill to the place where the steam carriages\nstart.  We travelled in the second class of carriages.  There were five\ncarriages linked together, in each of which were placed open seats for\nthe travellers, four or five facing each other; but not all were full;\nand, besides, there was a close carriage, and also a machine for luggage.\nThe fare was four shillings for the thirty-one miles.  Everything went on\nso rapidly that I had scarcely the power of observation.  The road begins\nat an excavation through a rock, and is to a certain extent insulated\nfrom the adjacent country.  It is occasionally placed on bridges, and\nfrequently intersected by ordinary roads.  Not quite a perfect level is\npreserved.  On setting off there is a slight jolt, arising from the chain\ncatching each carriage, but, once in motion, we proceeded as smoothly as\npossible.  For a minute or two the pace is gentle, and is constantly\nvarying.  The machine produces little smoke or steam.  First in order is\nthe tall chimney; then the boiler, a barrel-like vessel; then an oblong\nreservoir of water; then a vehicle for coals; and then comes, of a length\ninfinitely extendible, the train of carriages.  If all the seats had been\nfilled, our train would have carried about 150 passengers; but a\ngentleman assured me at Chester that he went with a thousand persons to\nNewton fair.  There must have been two engines then.  I have heard since\nthat two thousand persons or more went to and from the fair that day.\nBut two thousand only, at three shillings each way, would have produced\n600 pounds!  But, after all, the expense is so great that it is\nconsidered uncertain whether the establishment will ultimately remunerate\nthe proprietors.  Yet I have heard that it already yields the\nshareholders a dividend of nine per cent.  And Bills have passed for\nmaking railroads between London and Birmingham, and Birmingham and\nLiverpool.  What a change it will produce in the intercourse!  One\nconveyance will take between 100 and 200 passengers, and the journey will\nbe made in a forenoon!  Of the rapidity of the journey I had better\nexperience on my return; but I may say now that, stoppages included, it\nmay certainly be made at the rate of twenty miles an hour.\n\n\"I should have observed before that the most remarkable movements of the\njourney are those in which trains pass one another.  The rapidity is such\nthat there is no recognizing the features of a traveller.  On several\noccasions, the noise of the passing engine was like the whizzing of a\nrocket.  Guards are stationed in the road, holding flags, to give notice\nto the drivers when to stop.  Near Newton I noticed an inscription\nrecording the memorable death of Huskisson.\"\n\n                                               --_Crabb Robinson's Diary_.\n\n\n\n\nEARLY AMERICAN RAILWAY ENTERPRISE.\n\n\nMr. C. F. Adams, in his work on _Railroads_: _Their Origin and Problems_,\nremarks:--\"There is, indeed, some reason for believing that the South\nCarolina Railroad was the first ever constructed in any country with a\ndefinite plan of operating it exclusively by locomotive steam power.  But\nin America there was not--indeed, from the very circumstances of the\ncase, there could not have been--any such dramatic occasions and\nsurprises as those witnessed at Liverpool in 1829 and 1830.\nNevertheless, the people of Charleston were pressing close on the heels\nof those at Liverpool, for on the 15th of January, 1831--exactly four\nmonths after the formal opening of the Manchester and Liverpool road--the\nfirst anniversary of the South Carolina Railroad was celebrated with due\nhonor.  A queer-looking machine, the outline of which was sufficient in\nitself to prove that the inventor owed nothing to Stephenson, had been\nconstructed at the West Point Foundry Works in New York during the summer\nof 1830--a first attempt to supply that locomotive power which the Board\nhad, with sublime confidence in possibilities, unanimously voted on the\n14th of the preceding January should alone be used on the road.  The name\nof _Best Friend_ was given to this very simple product of native genius.\nThe idea of the multitubular boiler had not yet suggested itself in\nAmerica.  The _Best Friend_, therefore, was supplied with a common\nvertical boiler, 'in form of an old-fashioned porter-bottle, the furnace\nat the bottom surrounded with water, and all filled inside of what we\ncall teats running out from the sides and tops.'  By means of the\nprojections or 'teats' a portion at least of the necessary heating\nsurface was provided.  The cylinder was at the front of the platform, the\nrear end of which was occupied by the boiler, and it was fed by means of\na connecting pipe.  Thanks to the indefatigable researches of an\nenthusiast on railroad construction, we have an account of the\nperformances of this and all the other pioneers among American\nlocomotives, and the pictures with which Mr. W. H. Brown has enriched his\nbook would alone render it both curious and valuable.  Prior to the\nstockholders' anniversary of January 15th, 1831, it seems that the _Best\nFriend_ had made several trips 'running at the rate of sixteen to\ntwenty-one miles an hour, with forty or fifty passengers in some four or\nfive cars, and without the cars, thirty to thirty-five miles an hour.'\nThe stockholders' day was, however, a special occasion, and the papers of\nthe following Monday, for it happened on a Saturday, gave the following\naccount of it:--\n\n\"Notice having been previously given, inviting the stockholders, about\none hundred and fifty assembled in the course of the morning at the\ncompany's buildings in Line Street, together with a number of invited\nguests.  The weather the day and night previous had been stormy, and the\nmorning was cold and cloudy.  Anticipating a postponement of the\nceremonies, the locomotive engine had been taken to pieces for cleaning,\nbut upon the assembling of the company she was put in order, the\ncylinders new packed and at the word the apparatus was ready for\nmovement.  The first trip was performed with two pleasure cars attached,\nand a small carriage, fitted for the occasion, upon which was a\ndetachment of United States troops and a field-piece which had been\npolitely granted by Major Belton for the occasion. . .  The number of\npassengers brought down, which was performed in two trips, was estimated\nat upward of two hundred.  A band of music enlivened the scene, and great\nhilarity and good humour prevailed throughout the day.\"\n\nIt was not long, however, before the _Best Friend_ came to serious grief.\nNaturally, and even necessarily, inasmuch as it was a South Carolina\ninstitution, it was provided with a <DW64> fireman.  It so happened that\nthis functionary while in the discharge of his duties was much annoyed by\nthe escape of steam from the safety valve, and, not having made himself\ncomplete master of the principles underlying the use of steam as a source\nof power, he took advantage of a temporary absence of the engineer in\ncharge to effect a radical remedy of this cause of annoyance.  He not\nonly fastened down the valve lever, but further made the thing perfectly\nsure by sitting upon it.  The consequences were hardly less disastrous to\nthe _Best Friend_ than to the chattel fireman.  Neither were of much\nfurther practical use.  Before this mishap chanced, however in June,\n1831, a second locomotive, called the _West Point_, had arrived in\nCharleston, and this last was constructed on the principle of\nStephenson's _Rocket_.  In its general aspect, indeed, it greatly\nresembled that already famous prototype.  There is a very characteristic\nand suggestive cut representing a trial trip made with this locomotive on\nMarch 5th, 1831.  The nerves of the Charleston people had been a good\ndeal disturbed and their confidence in steam as a safe motor shaken by\nthe disaster which had befallen the _Best Friend_.  Mindful of this fact,\nand very properly solicitous for the safety of their guests, the\ndirectors now had recourse to a very simple and ingenious expedient.\nThey put what they called a 'barrier car' between the locomotive and\npassenger coaches of the train.  This barrier car consisted of a platform\non wheels upon which were piled six bales of cotton.  A fortification was\nthus provided between the passengers and any future <DW64> sitting on the\nsafety valve.  We are also assured that 'the safety valve being out of\nthe reach of any person but the engineer, will contribute to the\nprevention of accidents in the future, such as befel the _Best Friend_.'\nJudging by the cut which represents the train, this occasion must have\nbeen even more marked for its 'hilarity' than the earlier one which has\nalready been described.  Besides the locomotive and the barrier car there\nare four passenger coaches.  In the first of these was a <DW64> band, in\ngeneral appearance very closely resembling the minstrels of a later day,\nthe members of which are energetically performing on musical instruments\nof various familiar descriptions.  Then follow three cars full of the\nsaddest looking white passengers, who were present as we were informed to\nthe number of one hundred and seventeen.  The excursion was, however,\nhighly successful, and two-and-a-quarter miles of road were passed over\nin the short space of eight minutes--about the speed at which a good\nhorse would trot for the same distance.\n\nThis was in March, 1831.  About six months before, however, there had\nactually been a trial of speed between a horse and one of the pioneer\nlocomotives, which had not resulted in favour of the locomotive.  It took\nplace on the present Baltimore and Ohio road upon the 28th of August,\n1830.  The engine in this case was contrived by no other than Mr. Peter\nCooper.  And it affords a striking illustration of how recent those\nevents which now seem so remote really were, that here is a man until\nvery recently living, and amongst the most familiar to the eyes of the\npresent generation, who was a contemporary of Stephenson, and himself\ninvented a locomotive during the Rainhill year, being then nearly forty\nyears of age.  The Cooper engine, however, was scarcely more than a\nworking model.  Its active-minded inventor hardly seems to have aimed at\nanything more than a demonstration of possibilities.  The whole thing\nweighed only a ton, and was of one horse power; in fact it was not larger\nthan those handcars now in common use with railroad section-men.  The\nboiler, about the size of a modern kitchen boiler, stood upright and was\nfitted above the furnace--which occupied the lower section--with vertical\ntubes.  The cylinder was but three-and-a-half inches in diameter, and the\nwheels were moved by gearing.  In order to secure the requisite pressure\nof steam in so small a boiler, a sort of bellows was provided which was\nkept in action by means of a drum attached to one of the car-wheels over\nwhich passed a cord which worked a pulley, which in turn worked the\nbellows.  Thus, of Stephenson's two great devices, without either of\nwhich his success at Rainhill would have been impossible--the waste steam\nblast and the multitubular boiler--Peter Cooper had only got hold of the\nlast.  He owed his defeat in the race between his engine and a horse to\nthe fact that he had not got hold of the first.  It happened in this\nwise.  Several experimental trips had been made with the little engine on\nthe Baltimore and Ohio road, the first sections of which had recently\nbeen completed and were then operated upon by means of horses.  The\nsuccess of these trips was such that at last, just seventeen days before\nthe formal opening of the Manchester and Liverpool road on the other side\nof the Atlantic, a small open car was attached to the engine--the name of\nwhich, by the way, was _Tom Thumb_--and upon this a party of directors\nand their friends were carried from Baltimore to Ellicott's Mills and\nback, a distance of some twenty-six miles.\n\nThe trip out was made in an hour, and was very successful.  The return\nwas less so, and for the following reason:--\n\n\"The great stage proprietors of the day were Stockton and Stokes; and on\nthat occasion a gallant grey, of great beauty and power, was driven by\nthem from town, attached to another car on the second track--for the\ncompany had begun by making two tracks to the Mills--and met the engine\nat the Relay House on its way back.  From this point it was determined to\nhave a race home, and the start being even, away went horse and engine,\nthe snort of the one and the puff of the other keeping tune and time.\n\n\"At first the grey had the best of it, for his _steam_ would be applied\nto the greatest advantage on the instant, while the engine had to wait\nuntil the rotation of the wheels set the blower to work.  The horse was\nperhaps a quarter of a mile ahead when the safety valve of the engine\nlifted, and the thin blue vapour issuing from it showed an excess of\nsteam.  The blower whistled, the steam blew off in vapoury clouds, the\npace increased, the passengers shouted, the engine gained on the horse,\nsoon it lapped him--the silk was plied--the race was neck and neck, nose\nand nose--then the engine passed the horse, and a great hurrah hailed the\nvictory.  But it was not repeated, for, just at this time, when the\ngrey's master was about giving up, the band which draws the pulley which\nmoved the blower slipped from the drum, the safety valve ceased to\nscream, and the engine--for want of breath--began to wheeze and pant.  In\nvain Mr. Cooper, who was his own engineer and fireman, lacerated his\nhands in attempting to replace the band upon the wheel; the horse gained\nupon the machine and passed it, and although the band was presently\nreplaced, and the steam again did its best, the horse was too far ahead\nto be overtaken, and came in the winner of the race.\"\n\n\n\n\nENGLISH AND AMERICAN OPPOSITION.\n\n\nWhat wonder that such an innovation as railways was strenuously opposed,\nthreatening, as it did, the coaching interest, and the posting interest,\nthe canal interest, and the sporting interest, and private interests of\nevery variety.  \"Gentlemen, as an individual,\" said a sporting M.P. for\nCheltenham, \"I hate your railways; I detest them altogether; I wish the\nconcoctors of the Cheltenham and Oxford, and the concoctors of every\nother scheme, including the solicitors and engineers, were at rest in\nParadise.  Gentlemen, I detest railroads; nothing is more distasteful to\nme than to hear the echo of our hills reverberating with the noise of\nhissing railroad engines, running through the heart of our hunting\ncountry, and destroying that noble sport to which I have been accustomed\nfrom my childhood.\"  And at Tewkesbury, one speaker contended that \"any\nrailway would be injurious;\" compared engines to \"war-horses and fiery\nmeteors;\" and affirmed that \"the evils contained in Pandora's box were\nbut trifles compared with those that would be consequent on railways.\"\nEven in go-aheadative America, some steady jog trotting opponents raised\ntheir voices against the nascent system; one of whom (a canal\nstockholder, by the way) chronicled the following objective arguments.\n\"He saw what would be the effect of it; that it would set the whole world\na-gadding.  Twenty miles an hour, sir!  Why you will not be able to keep\nan apprentice-boy at his work; every Saturday evening he must take a trip\nto Ohio, to spend the Sabbath with his sweetheart.  Grave plodding\ncitizens will be flying about like comets.  All local attachments must be\nat an end.  It will encourage flightiness of intellect.  Veracious people\nwill turn into the most immeasurable liars; all their conceptions will be\nexaggerated by their magnificent notions of distance.  'Only a hundred\nmiles off!  Tut, nonsense, I'll step across, madam, and bring your fan!'\n'Pray, sir, will you dine with me to-day at my little box at Alleghany?'\n'Why, indeed, I don't know.  I shall be in town until twelve.  Well, I\nshall be there; but you must let me off in time for the theatre.'  And\nthen, sir, there will be barrels of pork, and cargoes of flour, and\nchaldrons of coals, and even lead and whiskey, and such-like sober things\nthat have always been used to sober travelling, whisking away like a set\nof sky-rockets.  It will upset all the gravity of the nation.  If two\ngentlemen have an affair of honour, they have only to steal off to the\nRocky Mountains, and there no jurisdiction can touch them.  And then,\nsir, think of flying for debt!  A set of bailiffs, mounted on\nbomb-shells, would not overtake an absconded debtor, only give him a fair\nstart.  Upon the whole, sir, it is a pestilential, topsy-turvy,\nharum-scarum whirligig.  Give me the old, solemn, straightforward,\nregular Dutch canal--three miles an hour for expresses, and two for\nordinary journeys, with a yoke of oxen for a heavy load!  I go for beasts\nof burthen: it is more primitive and scriptural, and suits a moral and\nreligious people better.  None of your hop-skip-and-jump whimsies for\nme.\"\n\n                                              --_Sharpe's London Journal_.\n\n\n\n\nAN UNPLEASANT TRIAL TRIP.\n\n\nMr. O. F. Adams remarks:--\"A famous trial trip with a new locomotive\nengine was that made on the 9th of August, 1831, on the new line from\nAlbany to Schenectady over the Mohawk Valley road.  The train was made up\nof a locomotive, the _De Witt Clinton_, its tender, and five or six\npassenger coaches--which were, indeed, nothing but the bodies of stage\ncoaches placed upon trucks.  The first two of these coaches were set\naside for distinguished visitors; the others were surmounted with seats\nof plank to accommodate as many as possible of the great throng of\npersons who were anxious to participate in the trip.  Inside and out the\ncoaches were crowded; every seat was full.  What followed the starting of\nthe train has thus been described by one who took part in the affair:--\n\n\"'The trucks were coupled together with chains or chain-links, leaving\nfrom two to three feet slack, and when the locomotive started it took up\nthe slack by jerks, with sufficient force to jerk the passengers who sat\non seats across the tops of the coaches, out from under their hats, and\nin stopping they came together with such force as to send them flying\nfrom their seats.\n\n\"They used dry pitch-pine for fuel, and, there being no smoke or\nspark-catcher to the chimney or smoke stack, a volume of black smoke,\nstrongly impregnated with sparks, coal, and cinders, came pouring back\nthe whole length of the train.  Each of the outside passengers who had an\numbrella raised it as a protection against the smoke and fire.  They were\nfound to be but a momentary protection, for I think in the first mile the\nlast one went overboard, all having their covers burnt off from the\nframes, when a general melee took place among the deck passengers, each\nwhipping his neighbour to put out the fire.  They presented a very motley\nappearance on arriving at the first station.\"  Here, \"a short stop was\nmade, and a successful experiment tried to remedy the unpleasant jerks.\nA plan was soon hit upon and put into execution.  The three links in the\ncouplings of the cars were stretched to their utmost tension, a rail from\na fence in the neighbourhood was placed between each pair of cars and\nmade fast by means of the packing yarn from the cylinders.  This\narrangement improved the order of things, and it was found to answer the\npurpose when the signal was again given and the engine started.'\"\n\n\n\n\nPROGNOSTICATIONS OF FAILURE.\n\n\nIn the year 1831, the writer of a pamphlet, who styled himself\n_Investigator_, essayed the task of \"proving by facts and arguments\" that\na railway between London and Birmingham would be a \"burden upon the trade\nof the country and would never pay.\"  The difficulties and dangers of the\nenterprise he thus sets forth:--\n\n\"The causes of greater danger on the railway are several.  A velocity of\nfifteen miles an hour is in itself a great source of danger, as the\nsmallest obstacle might produce the most serious consequences.  If, at\nthat rate, the engine or any forward part of the train should suddenly\nstop, the whole would be cracked by the collision like nutshells.  At all\nturnings there is a danger that the latter part of the train may swing\noff the rails; and, if that takes place, the most serious consequences\nmust ensue before the whole train can be stopped.  The line, too, upon\nwhich the train must be steered admits of little lateral deviation, while\na stage coach has a choice of the whole roadway.  Independently of the\nvelocity, which in coaches is the chief source of danger, there are many\nperils on the railway, the rails stand up like so many thick knives, and\nany one alighting on them would have but a slight chance of his life . .\n.  Another consideration which would deter travellers, more especially\ninvalids, ladies, and children, from making use of the railways, would be\nwant of accommodation along the line, unless the directors of the railway\nchoose to build inns as commodious as those on the present line of road.\nBut those inns the directors would have in part to support also, because\nthey would be out of the way of any business except that arising from the\nrailway, and that would be so trifling and so accidental that the\nlandlords could not afford to keep either a cellar or a larder.\n\n\"Commercial travellers, who stop and do business in all the towns and by\nso doing render commerce much cheaper than it otherwise would be, and who\ngive that constant support to the houses of entertainment which makes\nthem able to supply the occasional traveller well and at a cheap rate,\nwould, as a matter of course, never by any chance go by the railroad; and\nthe occasional traveller, who went the same route for pleasure, would go\nby the coach road also, because of the cheerful company and comfortable\ndinner.  Not one of the nobility, the gentry, or those who travel in\ntheir own carriages, would by any chance go by the railway.  A nobleman\nwould really not like to be drawn at the tail of a train of wagons, in\nwhich some hundreds of bars of iron were jingling with a noise that would\ndrown all the bells of the district, and in the momentary apprehension of\nhaving his vehicle broke to pieces, and himself killed or crippled by the\ncollision of those thirty-ton masses.\"\n\n\n\n\nSIR ASTLEY COOPER'S OPPOSITION TO THE LONDON AND BIRMINGHAM RAILWAY.\n\n\nRobert Stephenson, while engaged in the survey of the above line,\nencountered much opposition from landed proprietors.  Many years after\nits completion, when recalling the past, he said:--\"I remember that we\ncalled one day on Sir Astley Cooper, the eminent surgeon, in the hope of\novercoming his aversion to the railway.  He was one of our most\ninveterate and influential opponents.  His country house at Berkhampstead\nwas situated near the intended line, which passed through part of his\nproperty.  We found a courtly, fine-looking old gentleman, of very\nstately manners, who received us kindly and heard all we had to say in\nfavour of the project.  But he was quite inflexible in his opposition to\nit.  No deviation or improvement that we could suggest had any effect in\nconciliating him.  He was opposed to railways generally, and to this in\nparticular.  'Your scheme,' said he, 'is preposterous in the extreme.  It\nis of so extravagant a character as to be positively absurd.  Then look\nat the recklessness of your proceedings!  You are proposing to cut up our\nestates in all directions for the purpose of making an unnecessary road.\nDo you think, for one moment, of the destruction of property involved by\nit?  Why, gentlemen, if this sort of thing be permitted to go on you will\nin a very few years _destroy the nobility_!'\"\n\n\n\n\nOPPOSITION TO MAKING SURVEYS.\n\n\nA great deal of opposition was encountered in making the surveys for the\nLondon and Birmingham Railway, and although, in every case, as little\ndamage was done as possible, simply because it was the interest of those\nconcerned to conciliate all parties along the line, yet, in several\ninstances, the opposition was of a most violent nature; in one case no\nskill or ingenuity could evade the watchfulness and determination of the\nlords of the soil, and the survey was at last accomplished at night by\nmeans of dark lanterns.\n\nOn another occasion, when Mr. Gooch was taking levels through some of the\nlarge tracts of grazing land, a few miles from London, two brothers,\noccupying the land came to him in a great rage, and insisted on his\nleaving their property immediately.  He contrived to learn from them that\nthe adjoining field was not theirs and he therefore remonstrated but very\nslightly with them, and then walked quietly through the gap in the hedge\ninto the next field, and planted his level on the highest ground he could\nfind--his assistant remaining at the last level station, distant about a\nhundred and sixty yards, apparently quite unconscious of what had taken\nplace, although one of the brothers was moving very quickly towards him,\nfor the purpose of sending him off.  Now, if the assistant had moved his\nstaff before Mr. Gooch had got his sight at it through the telescope of\nhis level, all his previous work would have been completely lost, and the\nsurvey must have been completed in whatever manner it could have been\ndone--the great object, however, was to prevent this serious\ninconvenience.  The moment Mr. Gooch commenced looking through his\ntelescope at the staff held by his assistant, the grazier nearest him,\nspreading out the tails of his coat, tried to place himself between the\nstaff and the telescope, in order to intercept all vision, and at the\nsame time commenced shouting violently to his comrade, desiring him to\nmake haste and knock down the staff.  Fortunately for Mr. Gooch, although\nnature had made this amiable being's ears longer than usual, yet they\nperformed their office very badly, and as he could not see distinctly\nwhat Mr. Gooch was about--the hedge being between them--he very simply\nasked the man at the staff what his (the enquirer's) brother said.  \"Oh,\"\nreplied the man, \"he is calling to you to stop that horse there which is\ngalloping out of the fold yard.\"  Away went Clodpole, as fast as he could\nrun, to restrain the unruly energies of Smolensko the Ninth, or whatever\nother name the unlucky quadruped might be called, and Mr. Gooch in the\nmeanwhile quietly took the sight required--he having, with great\njudgment, planted his level on ground sufficiently high to enable him to\nsee over the head of any grazier in the land; but his clever assistant,\nas soon as he perceived that all was right, had to take to his heels and\nmake the shortest cut to the high road.\n\nIn another instance, a reverend gentleman of the Church of England made\nsuch alarming demonstrations of his opposition that the extraordinary\nexpedient was resorted to of surveying his property during the time he\nwas engaged in the pulpit, preaching to his flock.  This was accomplished\nby having a strong force of surveyors all in readiness to commence their\noperations, by entering the clergyman's grounds on the one side at the\nsame moment that they saw him fairly off them on the other, and, by a\nwell organised and systematic arrangement, each man coming to a\nconclusion with his allotted task just as the reverend gentleman came to\na conclusion with his sermon; and before he left the church to return to\nhis home, the deed was done.\n\n                               --Roscoe's _London and Birmingham Railway_.\n\n\n\n\nSANITARY OBJECTIONS.\n\n\nMr. Smiles, in his _Life of George Stephenson_, remarks:--\"Sanitary\nobjections were also urged in opposition to railways, and many wise\ndoctors strongly inveighed against tunnels.  Sir Anthony Carlisle\ninsisted that \"tunnels would expose healthy people to colds, catarrhs,\nand consumption.\"  The noise, the darkness, and the dangers of tunnel\ntravelling were depicted in all their horrors.  Worst of all, however,\nwas 'the destruction of the atmospheric air,' as Dr. Lardner termed it.\nElaborate calculations were made by that gentleman to prove that the\nprovision of ventilating shafts would be altogether insufficient to\nprevent the dangers arising from the combustion of coke, producing\ncarbonic acid gas, which in large quantities was fatal to life.  He\nshowed, for instance, that in the proposed Box tunnel, on the Great\nWestern Railway, the passage of 100 tons would deposit about 3090 lbs. of\nnoxious gases, incapable of supporting life!  Here was an uncomfortable\nprospect of suffocation for passengers between London and Bristol.  But\nsteps were adopted to allay these formidable sources of terror.  Solemn\ndocuments, in the form of certificates, were got up and published, signed\nby several of the most distinguished physicians of the day, attesting the\nperfect wholesomeness of tunnels, and the purity of the air in them.\nPerhaps they went further than was necessary in alleging, what certainly\nsubsequent experience has not verified, that the atmosphere of the tunnel\nwas 'dry, of an agreeable temperature, and free from smell.'  Mr.\nStephenson declared his conviction that a tunnel twenty miles long could\nbe worked safely and without more danger to life than a railway in the\nopen air; but, at the same time, he admits that tunnels were nuisances,\nwhich he endeavoured to avoid wherever practicable.\"\n\n\n\n\nELEVATED RAILWAYS.\n\n\nIn the _Gentleman's Magazine_ for June, 1830, it is stated:--\"There are\nat present exhibiting in Edinburgh three large models, accompanied with\ndrawings of railways and their carriages, invented by Mr. Dick, who has a\npatent.  These railways are of a different nature from those hitherto in\nuse, inasmuch as they are not laid along the surface of the ground, but\nelevated to such a height as, when necessary, to pass over the tops of\nhouses and trees.  The principal supports are of stone, and, being placed\nat considerable distances, have cast-iron pillars between them.  The\ncarriages are to be dragged along with a velocity hitherto unparalleled,\nby means of a rope drawn by a steam engine or other prime mover, a series\nbeing placed at intervals along the railway.  From the construction of\nthe railway and carriages the friction is very small.\"\n\n\n\n\nEVIDENCE OF A GENERAL SALESMAN.\n\n\nThe advantages London derives from railways, in regard to its supply of\ngood meat, may be gathered from the evidence given by Mr. George Rowley\nin 1834, on behalf of the Great Western Railway Company.\n\n\"You have been a general salesman of live and dead stock of all\ndescriptions in Newgate Market 32 years?\"--\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What is about the annual amount of your sales?\"--\"I turn over 300,000\npounds in a year.\"\n\n\"Would a railway that facilitated the communication between London and\nBristol be an advantage to your business?\"--\"I think it would be a\nspecial advantage to London altogether.\"\n\n\"In what way?\"--\"The facility of having goods brought in reference to\nlive stock is very important; I have been in the habit of paying Mr.\nBowman, of Bristol, 1,000 pounds a-week for many weeks; that has been for\nsending live hogs to me to be sold, to be slaughtered in London; and I\nhave, out of that 1,000 pounds a-week as many as 40 or 50 pigs die on the\nroad, and they have sold for little or nothing.  The exertion of the pigs\nkills them.\"\n\n\"The means of conveying pigs on a railway would be a great\nadvantage?\"--\"Yes, as far as having the pigs come good to market, without\nbeing subject to a distemper that creates fever, and they die as red as\nthat bag before you, and when they are killed in good health they die a\nnatural colour.\"\n\n\"Then do I understand you that those who are fortunate enough to survive\nthe journey are the worse for it?\"--\"Yes, in weight.\"\n\n\"And in quality?\"--\"Yes!  All meat killed in the country, and delivered\nin the London market dead, in a good state, will make from 6d. to 8d. a\nstone more than what is slaughtered in London.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE ANXIOUS HAIR-DRESSER.\n\n\n\"Clanwilliam mentioned this evening an incident which proves the\nwonderful celerity of the railroads.  Mr. Isidore, the Queen's coiffeur,\nwho receives 2,000 pounds a year for dressing Her Majesty's hair\ntwice-a-day, had gone to London in the morning to return to Windsor in\ntime for her toilet; but on arriving at the station he was just five\nminutes too late, and saw the train depart without him.  His horror was\ngreat, as he knew that his want of punctuality would deprive him of his\nplace, as no train would start for the next two hours.  The only resource\nwas to order a special train, for which he was obliged to pay 18 pounds;\nbut the establishment feeling the importance of his business, ordered\nextra steam to be put on, and convoyed the anxious hair-dresser 18 miles\nin 18 minutes, which extricated him from all his difficulties.\"\n\n                                      _Raike's Diary from_ 1831 _to_ 1847.\n\n\n\n\nSHARP PRACTICE.\n\n\nSir Francis Head, Bart., in his _Stokers and Pokers_, remarks:--\"During\nthe construction of the present London and North Western Railway, a\nlandlady at Hillmorton, near Rugby, of very sharp practice, which she had\nimbibed in dealings for many years with canal boatmen, was constantly\nremarking aloud that no navvy should ever \"do\" her; and although the\nrailway was in her immediate neighbourhood, and although the navvies were\nher principal customers, she took pleasure on every opportunity in\nrepeating the invidious remark.\n\n\"It had, however, one fine morning scarcely left her large, full-blown,\nrosy lips, when a fine-looking young fellow, walking up to her, carrying\nin both hands a huge stone bottle, commonly called a 'grey-neck,' briefly\nasked her for 'half a gallon of gin;' which was no sooner measured and\npoured in than the money was rudely demanded before it could be taken\naway.\n\n\"On the navvy declining to pay the exorbitant price asked, the landlady,\nwith a face like a peony, angrily told him he must either pay for the gin\nor _instantly_ return it.\n\n\"He silently chose the latter, and accordingly, while the eyes of his\nantagonist were wrathfully fixed upon his, he returned into her measure\nthe half gallon, and then quietly walked off; but having previously put\ninto his grey-neck half a gallon of water, each party eventually found\nthemselves in possession of half a gallon of gin and water; and, however\neither may have enjoyed the mixture, it is historically recorded at\nHillmorton that the landlady was never again heard unnecessarily to boast\nthat no navvy could _do_ her.\"\n\n\n\n\nA NAVVY'S REASON FOR NOT GOING TO CHURCH.\n\n\nA navvy at Kilsby, being asked why he did not go to church? duly answered\nin geological language--\"_Why_, _Soonday hasn't cropped out here yet_!\"\nBy which he meant that the clergyman appointed to the new village had not\nyet arrived.\n\n\n\n\nSNAKES' HEADS.\n\n\nOne of the earliest forms of rails used by the Americans consisted of a\nflat bar half-an-inch thick spiked down to longitudinal timbers.  In the\nprocess of running the train, the iron was curved, the spikes loosened,\nand the ends of the bars turned up, and were known by the name of snakes'\nheads.  Occasionally they pierced the bottoms of the carriages and\ninjured passengers, and it was no uncommon thing to hear passengers\nspeculate as to which line they would go by, as showing fewest snakes'\nheads.\n\n\n\n\nPREJUDICE REMOVED.\n\n\nMr. William Reed, a land agent, was called, in 1834, to give evidence in\nfavour of the Great Western Railway.  He was questioned as to the\nbenefits conferred upon the localities passed through by the Manchester\nand Liverpool Railway.  He was asked, \"From your knowledge of the\nproperty in the neighbourhood, can you say that the houses have not\ndecreased in value?\"  \"Yes; I know an instance of a gentleman who had a\nhouse very near, and, though he quarrelled very much with the Company\nwhen they came there, and said, 'Very well, if you will come let me have\na high wall to keep you out of sight,' and a year-and-a-half ago he\npetitioned the Company to take down the wall, and he has put up an iron\nrailing, so that he may see them.\"\n\n\n\n\nA RIDE FROM BOSTON TO PROVIDENCE IN 1835.\n\n\nThe early railway enterprise in America was not regarded by all persons\nwith feelings of unmixed satisfaction.  Thus we read of the railway\njourney taken by a gentleman of the old school, whose experience and\nsensations--if not very satisfactory to himself--are worth\nrecording:--\"July 22, 1835.--This morning at nine o'clock I took passage\nin a railroad car (from Boston) for Providence.  Five or six other cars\nwere attached to the locomotive, and uglier boxes I do not wish to travel\nin.  They were made to stow away some thirty human beings, who sit cheek\nby jowl as best they can.  Two poor fellows who were not much in the\nhabit of making their toilet squeezed me into a corner, while the hot sun\ndrew from their garments a villanous compound of smells made up of salt\nfish, tar, and molasses.  By and bye, just twelve--only twelve--bouncing\nfactory girls were introduced, who were going on a party of pleasure to\nNewport.  'Make room for the ladies!' bawled out the superintendent,\n'Come, gentlemen, jump up on the top; plenty of room there.'  'I'm afraid\nof the bridge knocking my brains out,' said a passenger.  Some made one\nexcuse and some another.  For my part, I flatly told him that since I had\nbelonged to the corps of Silver Greys I had lost my gallantry, and did\nnot intend to move.  The whole twelve were, however, introduced, and soon\nmade themselves at home, sucking lemons and eating green apples. . .  The\nrich and the poor, the educated and the ignorant, the polite and the\nvulgar, all herd together in this modern improvement of travelling.  The\nconsequence is a complete amalgamation.  Master and servant sleep heads\nand points on the cabin floor of the steamer, feed at the same table, sit\nin each other's laps, as it were, in the cars; and all this for the sake\nof doing very uncomfortably in two days what would be done delightfully\nin eight or ten.  Shall we be much longer kept by this toilsome fashion\nof hurrying, hurrying, from starting (those who can afford it) on a\njourney with our own horses, and moving slowly, surely, and profitably\nthrough the country, with the power of enjoying its beauty, and be the\nmeans of creating good inns.  Undoubtedly, a line of post-horses and\npost-chaises would long ago have been established along our great roads\nhad not steam monopolized everything. . . .  Talk of ladies on board a\nsteamboat or in a railroad car.  There are none!  I never feel like a\ngentleman there, and I cannot perceive a semblance of gentility in any\none who makes part of the travelling mob.  When I see women whom, in\ntheir drawing rooms or elsewhere, I have been accustomed to respect and\ntreat with every suitable deference--when I see them, I say, elbowing\ntheir way through a crowd of dirty emigrants or lowbred homespun fellows\nin petticoats or breeches in our country, in order to reach a table\nspread for a hundred or more, I lose sight of their pretensions to\ngentility and view them as belonging to the plebeian herd.  To restore\nherself to her caste, let a lady move in select company at five miles an\nhour, and take her meals in comfort at a good inn, where she may dine\ndecently. . . .  After all, the old-fashioned way of five or six miles,\nwith liberty to dine in a decent inn and be master of one's movements,\nwith the delight of seeing the country and getting along rationally, is\nthe mode to which I cling, and which will be adopted again by the\ngenerations of after times.\"\n\n                                        --_Recollections of Samuel Breck_.\n\n\n\n\nAPPEALING TO THE CLERGY.\n\n\nMr. C. F. Adams remarks:--\"During the periods of discouragement which, a\nfew years later, marked certain stages of the construction of the Western\nroad, connecting Worcester with Albany--when both money and courage\nseemed almost exhausted--Mr. De Grand never for a moment faltered.  He\nmight almost be said to have then had Western railroad on the brain.\nAmong other things, he issued a circular which caused much amusement and\nnot improbably some scandal among the more precise.  The Rev. S. K.\nLothrop, then a young man, had preached a sermon in Brattle Street Church\nwhich attracted a good deal of attention, on the subject of the moral and\nChristianizing influence of railroads.  Mr. De Grand thought he saw his\noccasion, and he certainly availed himself of it.  He at once had a\ncircular printed, a copy of which he sent to every clergyman in\nMassachusetts, suggesting the propriety of a discourse on 'The moral and\nChristianizing influence of railroads in general and of the Western\nrailroad in particular.'\"\n\n\n\n\nAIR-WAYS INSTEAD OF RAILWAYS.\n\n\nIn the _Mechanics' Magazine_ for July 22nd, 1837, is to be found the\nfollowing remarkable suggestion:--\"In many parts of the new railroads,\nwhere there has been some objection to the locomotive engines, stationary\nones are resorted to, as everyone knows to draw the vehicles along.  Why\nmight not these vehicles be balloons?  Why, instead of being dragged on\nthe surface of the ground, along costly viaducts or under disagreeable\ntunnels, might they not travel two or three hundred feet high?  By\nballoons, I mean, of course, anything raised in the air by means of a gas\nlighter than the air.  They might be of all shapes and sizes to suit\nconvenience.  The practicability of this plan does not seem to be\ndoubtful.  Its advantages are obvious.  Instead of having to purchase, as\nfor a railway, the whole line of track passed over, the company for a\nballoon-way would only have to procure those spots of ground on which\nthey proposed to erect stationary engines; and these need in no case be\nof peculiar value, since their being a hundred yards one way or the other\nwould make little difference.  Viaducts of course would never be\nnecessary, cuttings in very few occasions indeed, if at all.  The chief\nexpense of balloons is their inflation, which is renewed at every new\nascent; but in these balloons the gas once in need never to be let out,\nand one inflation would be enough.\"\n\nThe same writer a few years later on observes:--\"One feature of the\nair-way to supersede the railway would be, that besides preventing the\ndestruction of the architectural beauties of the metropolis, now menaced\nby the multitudinous network of viaducts and subways at war with the\nexisting thoroughfares, it would occasion the construction of numerous\nlofty towers as stations of arrival and departure, which would afford an\nopportunity of architectural effect hitherto undreamed of.\"\n\n\n\n\nPREJUDICE AGAINST CARRYING COALS BY RAILWAYS.\n\n\nRev. F. S. Williams in an article upon \"Railway Revolutions,\"\nremarks:--\"When railways were first established it was never imagined\nthat they would be so far degraded as to carry coals; but George\nStephenson and others soon saw how great a service railways might render\nin developing and distributing the mineral wealth of the country.\nPrejudice had, however, to be timidly and vigorously overcome.  When it\nwas mentioned to a certain eminent railway authority that George\nStephenson had spoken of sending coals by railway: 'Coals!' he exclaimed,\n'they will want us to carry dung next.'  The remark was reported to 'Old\nGeorge,' who was not behind his critic in the energy of his expression.\n'You tell B--,' he said, 'that when he travels by railway, they carry\ndung now!'  The strength of the feeling against the traffic is\nsufficiently illustrated by the fact that, when the London and Birmingham\nRailway began to carry coal, the wagons that contained it were sheeted\nover that their contents might not be seen; and when a coal wharf was\nfirst made at Crick station, a screen was built to hide the work from the\nobservation of passengers on the line.  Even the possibility of carrying\ncoal at a remunerative price was denied.  'I am very sorry,' said Lord\nEldon, referring to this subject, 'to find the intelligent people of the\nnorth country gone mad on the subject of railways;' and another eminent\nauthority declared: 'It is all very well to spend money; it will do some\ngood; but I will eat all the coals your railway will carry.'\n\n\"George Stephenson, however, and other friends of coal, held on their\nway; and he declared that the time would come when London would be\nsupplied with coal by railway.  'The strength of Britain,' he said, 'is\nin her coal beds; and the locomotive is destined, above all other\nagencies, to bring it forth.  The Lord Chancellor now sits upon a bag of\nwool; but wool has long ceased to be emblematical of the staple commodity\nof England.  He ought rather to sit upon a bag of coals, though it might\nnot prove quite so comfortable a seat.  Then think of the Lord Chancellor\nbeing addressed as the noble and learned lord on the coal-sack?  I'm\nafraid it wouldn't answer, after all.'\"\n\n\n\n\nAN EPITAPH ON THE VICTIM OF A RAILWAY ACCIDENT.\n\n\nA correspondent writes to the _Pall Mall Gazette_:--\"Our poetic\nliterature, so rich in other respects, is entirely wanting in epitaphs on\nthe victims of railway accidents.  A specimen of what may be turned in\nthis line is to be seen on a tombstone in the picturesque churchyard of\nHarrow-on-the-Hill.  It was, I observe, written as long ago as 1838, so\nthat it can be reproduced without much danger of hurting the feelings of\nthose who may have known and loved the subject of this touching elegy.\nThe name of the victim was Port, and the circumstances of his death are\nthus set forth:--\n\n    Bright was the morn, and happy rose poor Port;\n    Gay on the train he used his wonted sport.\n    Ere noon arrived his mangled form they bore\n    With pain distorted and overwhelmed with gore.\n    When evening came and closed the fatal day,\n    A mutilated corpse the sufferer lay.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN ENGINE-DRIVER'S EPITAPH.\n\n\nIn the cemetery at Alton, Illinois, there is a tombstone bearing the\nfollowing inscription:--\n\n    \"My engine is now cold and still.\n    No water does my boiler fill.\n    My coke affords its flame no more,\n    My days of usefulness are o'er;\n    My wheels deny their noted speed,\n    No more my guiding hand they heed;\n    My whistle--it has lost its tone,\n    Its shrill and thrilling sound is gone;\n    My valves are now thrown open wide,\n    My flanges all refuse to glide;\n    My clacks--alas! though once so strong,\n    Refuse their aid in the busy throng;\n    No more I feel each urging breath,\n    My steam is now condensed in death;\n    Life's railway o'er, each station past,\n    In death I'm stopped, and rest at last.\"\n\nThis epitaph was written by an engineer on the old Chicago and\nMississippi Railroad, who was fatally injured by an accident on the road;\nand while he lay awaiting the death which he knew to be inevitable, he\nwrote the lines which are engraved upon his tombstone.\n\n\n\n\nTRAFFIC-TAKING.\n\n\nBetween the years 1836 and 1839, when there were many railway acts\napplied for, traffic-taking became a lucrative calling.  It was necessary\nthat some approximate estimate should be made as to the income which the\nlines might be expected to yield.  Arithmeticians, who calculated traffic\nreceipts, were to be found to prove what promoters of railways required\nto satisfy shareholders and Parliamentary Committees.  The Eastern\nCounties Railway was estimated to pay a dividend of 23.5 per cent.; the\nLondon and Cambridge, 14.5 per cent.; the Sheffield and Manchester, 18.5\nper cent.  One shareholder of this company was so sanguine as to the\nsuccess of the line that in a letter to the _Railway Magazine_ he\ncalculated on a dividend of 80 per cent.  Bitter indeed must have been\nthe disappointment of those railway shareholders who pinned their faith\nto the estimates of traffic-takers, when instead of receiving large\ndividends, little was received, and in some instances the lines paid no\ndividend at all.\n\n\n\n\nMONEY LOST AND FOUND.\n\n\nOn Friday night, a servant of the Birmingham Railway Company found in one\nof the first-class carriages, after the passengers had left, a pocket\nbook containing a check on a London Bank for 2,000 and 2,500 pounds in\nbank notes.  He delivered the book and its contents to the principal\nofficer, and it was forwarded to the gentleman to whom it belonged, his\naddress being discovered from some letters in the pocket book.  He had\ngone to bed, and risen and dressed himself next morning without\ndiscovering his loss, which was only made known by the restoration of the\nproperty.  He immediately tendered 20 pounds to the party who had found\nhis money, but this being contrary to the regulations of the directors,\nthe party, though a poor man, could not receive the reward.  As the\ntemptation, however, was so great to apply the money to his own use, the\nmatter is to be brought before a meeting of the directors.\n\n                                                 --_Aris's Gazette_, 1839.\n\n\n\n\nORIGIN OF COOK'S RAILWAY EXCURSIONS.\n\n\nMr. Thomas Cook, the celebrated excursionist, in an article in the\n_Leisure Hour_ remarks:--\"As a pioneer in a wide field of thought and\naction, my course can never be repeated.  It has been mine to battle\nagainst inaugural difficulties, and to place the system on a basis of\nconsolidated strength.  It was mine to lay the foundations of a system on\nwhich others, both individuals and companies, have builded, and there is\nnot a phase of the tourist plans of Europe and America that was not\nembodied in my plans or foreshadowed in my ideas.  The whole thing seemed\nto come to me as by intuition, and my spirit recoiled at the idea of\nimitation.\n\n\"The beginning was very small, and was on this wise.  I believe that the\nMidland Railway from Derby to Rugby _via_ Leicester was opened in 1840.\nAt that time I knew but little of railways, having only travelled over\nthe Leicester and Swannington line from Leicester to Long Lane, a\nterminus near to the Leicestershire collieries.  The reports in the\npapers of the opening of the new line created astonishment in\nLeicestershire, and I had read of an interchange of visits between the\nLeicester and Nottingham Mechanics' Institutes.  I was an enthusiastic\ntemperance man, and the secretary of a district association, which\nembraced parts of the two counties of Leicester and Northampton.  A great\nmeeting was to be held at Leicester, over which Lawrence Heyworth, Esq.,\nof Liverpool--a great railway as well as temperance man--was advertised\nto preside.  From my residence at Market Harborough I walked to Leicester\n(fifteen miles) to attend that meeting.  About midway between Harborough\nand Leicester--my mind's eye has often reverted to the spot--a thought\nflashed through my brain, what a glorious thing it would be if the\nnewly-developed powers of railways and locomotion could be made\nsubservient to the promotion of temperance.  That thought grew upon me as\nI travelled over the last six or eight miles.  I carried it up to the\nplatform, and, strong in the confidence of the sympathy of the chairman,\nI broached the idea of engaging a special train to carry the friends of\ntemperance from Leicester to Loughborough and back to attend a quarterly\ndelegate meeting appointed to be held there in two or three weeks\nfollowing.  The chairman approved, the meeting roared with excitement,\nand early next day I proposed my grand scheme to John Fox Bell, the\nresident secretary of the Midland Counties Railway Company.  Mr. Paget,\nof Loughborough, opened his park for a gala, and on the day appointed\nabout five hundred passengers filled some twenty or twenty-five open\ncarriages--they were called 'tubs' in those days--and the party rode the\nenormous distance of eleven miles and back for a shilling, children\nhalf-price.  We carried music with us, and music met us at the\nLoughborough station.  The people crowded the streets, filled windows,\ncovered the house-tops, and cheered us all along the line, with the\nheartiest welcome.  All went off in the best style and in perfect safety\nwe returned to Leicester; and thus was struck the keynote of my\nexcursions, and the social idea grew upon me.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE DEODAND.\n\n\nIt was a principle of English common law derived from the feudal period,\nthat anything through the instrumentality of which death occurred was\nforfeited to the crown as a deodand; accordingly down to the year 1840\nand even later, we find, in all cases where persons were killed, records\nof deodands levied by the coroners' juries upon locomotives.  These\nappear to have been arbitrarily imposed and graduated in amount\naccordingly as circumstances seemed to excite in greater or less degree\nthe sympathies or the indignation of the jury.  In November, 1838, for\ninstance, a locomotive exploded upon the Liverpool and Manchester line,\nkilling its engineer and fireman; and for this escapade a deodand of\ntwenty pounds was assessed upon it by the coroner's jury; while upon\nanother occasion, in 1839, when the locomotive struck and killed a man\nand horse at a street crossing, the deodand was fixed at no less a sum\nthan fourteen hundred pounds, the full value of the engine.  Yet in this\nlast case there did not appear to be any circumstances rendering the\ncompany liable in civil damages.  The deodand seems to have been looked\nupon as a species of rude penalty imposed on the use of dangerous\nappliances, a sharp reminder to the companies to look sharply after their\nlocomotives and employes.  Thus upon the 24th of December, 1841, on the\nGreat Western Railway, a train, while moving through a thick fog at a\nhigh rate of speed, came suddenly in contact with a mass of earth which\nhad slid from the embankment at the side on to the track.  Instantly the\nwhole rear of the train was piled up on the top of the first carriage,\nwhich happened to be crowded with passengers, eight of whom were killed\non the spot, while seventeen others were more or less injured.  The\ncoroner's jury returned a verdict of accidental death, and at the same\ntime, as if to give the company a forcible hint to look closer to the\ncondition of its embankment, a deodand of one hundred pounds was levied\non the locomotive and tender.\n\n\n\n\nAN UNFORTUNATE DISCUSSION.\n\n\nTwo gentlemen sitting opposite each other in a railway carriage got into\na political argument; one was elderly and a staunch Conservative, the\nother was young and an ultra-Radical.  It may be readily conceived that,\nas the argument went on, the abuse became fast and furious; all sorts of\nunpleasant phrases and epithets were bandied about, personalities were\nfreely indulged in, and the other passengers were absolutely compelled to\ninterfere to prevent a _fracas_.  At the end of the journey the\ndisputants parted in mutual disgust, and looking unutterable things.  It\nso happened that the young man had a letter of introduction to an\ninfluential person in the neighbourhood respecting a legal appointment\nwhich was then vacant, which the young man desired to obtain, and which\nthe elderly gentleman had the power to secure.  The young petitioner,\nfirst going to his hotel and making himself presentable, sallied forth on\nhis errand.  He reached the noble mansion of the person to whom his\nletter of introduction was addressed, was ushered into an ante-room, and\nthere awaited, with mingled hope and fear, the all-important interview.\nAfter a few minutes the door opened and, horrible to relate! he who\nentered was the young man's travelling opponent, and thus the opponents\nof an hour since stood face to face.  The confusion and humiliation on\nthe one side, and the hauteur and coldness on the other, may be readily\nimagined.  Sir Edward C--, however--for such he was--although he\ninstantly recognized his recent antagonist, was too well-bred to make any\nallusion to the transaction.  He took the letter of introduction in\nsilence, read it, folded it up, and returned it to the presenter with a\nbitter smile and the following speech: \"Sir, I am infinitely obliged to\nmy friend, Mr. --, for recommending to my notice a gentleman whom he\nconceives to be so well fitted for the vacant post as yourself; but\npermit me to say that, inasmuch as the office you are desirous to fill\nexists upon a purely Conservative tenure, and can only be appropriately\nadministered by a person of Conservative tendency, I could not think of\ndoing such violence to your well-known political principles as to\nrecommend you for the post in question.\"  With these words and another\nsmile more grim than before, Sir Edward C-- bowed the chapfallen\npetitioner out, and he quickly took his way to the railway station,\nsecretly vowing never again to enter into political argument with an\nunknown railway traveller.\n\n                                   --_The Railway Traveller's Handy Book_.\n\n\n\n\nDOG TICKET.\n\n\nShortly after telegraphs were laid alongside of railways, a principal\nofficer of a railway company got into a compartment of a stopping train\nat an intermediate station.  The train had hardly left, when an elderly\ngentleman, in terms of endearment, invited what turned out to be a little\nSkye terrier to come out of its concealment under the seat.  The dog came\nout, jumped up, and appeared to enjoy his journey until the speed of the\ntrain slackened previous to stopping at a station, the dog then\ninstinctively retreated to its hiding place, and came out again in due\ncourse after the train had started.  The officer of the company left the\ntrain at a station or two afterwards.  On its arrival at the London\nticket platform the gentleman delivered up the tickets for his party.\n\"Dog ticket, sir, please.\"  \"Dog ticket, what dog ticket?\"  \"Ticket, sir,\nfor Skye terrier, black and tan, with his ears nearly over his eyes;\ntravelling, for comfort's sake, under the seat opposite to you, sir, in a\nlarge carpet bag, red ground with yellow cross-bars.\"  The gentleman\nfound resistance useless; he paid the fare demanded, when the\nticket-collector--who throughout the scene had never changed a\nmuscle--handed him a ticket that he had prepared beforehand.  \"Dog\nticket, sir; gentlemen not allowed to travel with a dog without a dog\nticket; you will have to give it up in London.\"  \"Yes, but how did you\nknow I had a dog?  That's what puzzles me!\"  \"Ah, sir,\" said the\nticket-collector, relaxing a little, but with an air of satisfaction,\n\"the telegraph is laid on our railway.  Them's the wires you see on the\noutside; we find them very useful in our business, etc.  Thank you, sir,\ngood morning.\"  It is needless to tell what part the principal officer\nplayed in this little drama.  On arrival in London the dog ticket was\nduly claimed, a little word to that effect having been sent up by a\nprevious train to be sure to have it demanded, although, as a usual\npractice, dog tickets are collected at the same time as those of\npassengers.\n\n                                          --_Roney's Rambles on Railways_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE ELECTRIC CONSTABLE.\n\n\nThe first application of the telegraph to police purposes took place in\n1844, on the Great Western Railway, and, as it was the first intimation\nthieves got of the electric constable being on duty, it is full of\ninterest.  The following extracts are from the telegraph book kept at the\nPaddington Station:--\n\n\"Eton Montem Day, August 28, 1844.--The Commissioners of Police having\nissued orders that several officers of the detective force shall be\nstationed at Paddington to watch the movements of suspicious persons,\ngoing by the down train, and give notice by the electric telegraph to the\nSlough station of the number of such suspected persons, and dress, their\nnames (if known), also the carriages in which they are.\"\n\nNow come the messages following one after the other, and influencing the\nfate of the marked individuals with all the celerity, certainty, and\ncalmness of the Nemesis of the Greek drama:--\n\n\"Paddington, 10.20 a.m.--Mail train just started.  It contains three\nthieves, named Sparrow, Burrell, and Spurgeon, in the first compartment\nof the fourth first-class carriage.\"\n\n\"Slough, 10.50 a.m.--Mail train arrived.  _The officers have cautioned\nthe three thieves_.\"\n\n\"Paddington, 10.50 a.m.--Special train just left.  It contained two\nthieves; one named Oliver Martin, who is dressed in black, _crape on his\nhat_; the other named Fiddler Dick, in black trousers and light blouse.\nBoth in the third compartment of the first second-class carriage.\"\n\n\"Slough, 11.16 a.m.--Special train arrived.  Officers have taken the two\nthieves into custody, a lady having lost her bag, containing a purse with\ntwo sovereigns and some silver in it; one of the sovereigns was sworn to\nby the lady as having been her property.  It was found in Fiddler Dick's\nwatch fob.\"\n\nIt appears that, on the arrival of the train, a policeman opened the door\nof the \"third compartment of the first second-class carriage,\" and asked\nthe passengers if they had missed anything?  A search in pockets and bags\naccordingly ensued, until one lady called out that her purse was gone.\n\n\"Fiddler Dick, you are wanted,\" was the immediate demand of the police\nofficer, beckoning to the culprit, who came out of the carriage\nthunder-struck at the discovery, and gave himself up, together with the\nbooty, with the air of a completely beaten man.  The effect of the\ncapture so cleverly brought about is thus spoken of in the telegraph\nbook:--\n\n\"Slough, 11.51 a.m.--Several of the suspected persons who came by the\nvarious down-trains are lurking about Slough, uttering bitter invectives\nagainst the telegraph.  Not one of those cautioned has ventured to\nproceed to the Montem.\"\n\n\n\n\nRUNAWAY MATCH.\n\n\nSir Francis Head in his account of the London and North-Western Railway\nremarks:--\"During a marriage which very lately took place at --, one of\nthe bridesmaids was so deeply affected by the ceremony that she took the\nopportunity of the concentrated interest excited by the bride to elope\nfrom church with an admirer.  The instant her parents discovered their\nsad loss, messengers were sent to all the railway stations to stop the\nfugitives.  The telegraph also went to work, and with such effect that,\nbefore night, no less than four affectionate couples legitimately married\nthat morning were interrupted on their several marriage jaunts and most\nseriously bothered, inconvenienced, and impeded by policemen and\nmagistrates.\"\n\n\n\n\nA RAILWAY ROMANCE.\n\n\nAn incident of an amusing though of a rather serious nature occurred some\nyears ago on the London and South-Western Railway.  A gentleman, whose\nplace of residence was Maple Derwell, near Basingstoke, got into a\nfirst-class carriage at the Waterloo terminus, with the intention of\nproceeding home by one of the main line down trains.  His only\nfellow-passengers in the compartment were a lady and an infant, and\nanother gentleman, and thus things remained until the arrival of the\ntrain at Walton, where the other gentleman left the carriage, leaving the\nfirst gentleman with the lady and child.  Shortly after this the train\nreached the Weybridge station, and on its stopping the lady, under the\npretence of looking for her servant or carriage, requested her male\nfellow-passenger to hold the infant for a few minutes while she went to\nsearch for what she wanted.  The bell rang for the starting of the train\nand the gentleman thus strangely left with the baby began to get rather\nfidgety, and anxious to return his charge to the mother.  The lady,\nhowever, did not again put in any appearance, and the train went on\nwithout her, the child remaining with the gentleman, who, on arriving at\nhis destination took the child home to his wife and explained the\ncircumstance under which it came into his possession.  No application\nhas, at present, it is understood, been made for the \"lost child,\" which\nhas for the nonce been adopted by the gentleman and his wife, who, it is\nsaid, are without any family of their own.\n\n\n\n\nGIGANTIC POWER OF LOCOMOTIVE ENGINES.\n\n\nSir Francis Head remarks:--\"The gigantic power of the locomotive engines\nhourly committed to the charge of these drivers was lately strangely\nexemplified in the large engine stable at the Camden Station.  A\npassenger engine, whose furnace-fire had but shortly been lighted, was\nstanding in this huge building surrounded by a number of artificers, who,\nin presence of the chief superintendent, were working in various\ndirections around it.  While they were all busily occupied, the fire in\nthe furnace--by burning up faster than was expected--suddenly imparted to\nthe engine the breath of life; and no sooner had the minimum of steam\nnecessary to move it been thus created, than this infant Hercules not\nonly walked _off_, but without the smallest embarrassment walked\n_through_ the 14-inch brick wall of the great building which contained\nit, to the terror of the superintendent and workmen, who expected every\ninstant that the roof above their heads would fall in and extinguish\nthem.  In consequence of the spindle of the regulator having got out of\nits socket the very same accident occurred shortly afterwards with\nanother engine, which, in like manner, walked through another portion of\nthis 14-inch wall of the stable that contained it, just as a\nthorough-bred horse would have walked out of the door.  And if such be\nthe irresistible power of the locomotive engine when feebly walking in\nits new-born state, unattended or unassisted even by its tender, is it\nnot appalling to reflect what must be its momentum when, in the full\nvigour of its life, it is flying down a steep gradient at the rate of 50\nmiles an hour, backed up by, say, 30 passenger carriages, each weighing\non an average 5.5 tons?  If ordinary houses could suddenly be placed in\nits path, it would, passengers and all, run through them as a musket-ball\ngoes through a keg of butter; but what would be the result if, at this\nfull speed, the engine by any accident were to be diverted against a mass\nof solid rock, such as sometimes is to be seen at the entrance of a\ntunnel, it is impossible to calculate or even to conjecture.  It is\nstated by the company's superintendent, who witnessed the occurrence,\nthat some time ago an ordinary accident happening to a luggage train near\nLoughborough, the wagons overrode each other until the uppermost one was\nfound piled 40 feet above the rails!\"\n\n\n\n\nNOVEL NOTICE TO DEFAULTING SHAREHOLDERS.\n\n\nIn the early days of railway enterprise there was often much difficulty\nin obtaining the punctual payment of calls from the shareholders.  The\nLeicester and Swannington line was thus troubled.  The Secretary,\nadopting a rather novel way to collect the calls, wrote to the\ndefaulters:--\"I am therefore necessitated to inform you, that unless the\nsum of 2 pounds is paid on or before the 22nd instant, your name will be\nfurnished to one of the principal and most pressing creditors of the\ncompany.\"  The missives of the Secretary generally had the desired\neffect.\n\n\n\n\nA QUICK DECISION.\n\n\nThe elder Brunel was habitually absent in society, but no man was more\nremarkable for presence of mind in an emergency.  Numerous instances are\nrecorded of this latter quality, but none more striking than that of his\nadventure in the act of inspecting the Birmingham Railway.  Suddenly in a\nconfined part of the road a train was seen approaching from either end of\nthe line, and at a speed which it was difficult to calculate.  The\nspectators were horrified; there was not an instant to be lost; but an\ninstant sufficed to the experienced engineer to determine the safest\ncourse under the circumstances.  Without attempting to cross the road,\nwhich would have been almost certain destruction, he at once took his\nposition exactly midway between the up and down lines, and drawing the\nskirts of his coat close around him, allowed the two trains to sweep past\nhim; when to the great relief of those who witnessed the exciting scene,\nhe was found untouched upon the road.  Without the engineer's experience\nwhich enabled him to form so rapid a decision, there can be no doubt that\nhe must have perished.\n\n                                                 --_The Temple Anecdotes_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE VERSAILLES ACCIDENT IN 1842.\n\n\nMr. Charles F. Adams thus describes it:--\"On the 8th of May, 1842, there\nhappened in France one of the most famous and horrible railroad\nslaughters ever recorded.  It was the birthday of the king, Louis\nPhillipe, and, in accordance with the usual practice, the occasion had\nbeen celebrated at Versailles by a great display of the fountains.  At\nhalf-past five o'clock these had stopped playing, and a general rush\nensued for the trains then about to leave for Paris.  That which went by\nthe road along the left bank of the Seine was densely crowded, and was so\nlong that it required two locomotives to draw it.  As it was moving at a\nhigh rate of speed between Bellevue and Menden, the axle of the foremost\nof these two locomotives broke, letting the body of the engine drop to\nthe ground.  It instantly stopped, and the second locomotive was then\ndriven by its impetus on top of the first, crushing its engineer and\nfireman, while the contents of both the fire-boxes were scattered over\nthe roadway and among the _debris_.  Three carriages crowded with\npassengers were then piled on top of this burning mass, and there crushed\ntogether into each other.  The doors of the train were all locked, as was\nthen, and indeed is still, the custom in Europe, and it so chanced that\nthe carriages had all been newly painted.  They blazed up like pine\nkindlings.  Some of the carriages were so shattered that a portion of\nthose in them were enabled to extricate themselves, but no less than\nforty were held fast; and of these such as were not so fortunate as to be\ncrushed to death in the first shock perished hopelessly in the flames\nbefore the eyes of a throng of impotent lookers-on.  Some fifty-two or\nfifty-three persons were supposed to have lost their lives in this\ndisaster, and more than forty others were injured; the exact number of\nthe killed, however, could never be ascertained, as the telescoping of\nthe carriages on top of the two locomotives had made of the destroyed\nportion of the train a visible holocaust of the most hideous description.\nNot only did whole families perish together--in one case no less than\neleven members of the same family sharing a common fate--but the remains\nof such as were destroyed could neither be identified nor separated.  In\none case a female foot was alone recognisable, while in others the bodies\nwere calcined and fused into an undistinguishable mass.  The Academy of\nSciences appointed a committee to inquire whether Admiral D'Urville, a\ndistinguished French navigator, was among the victims.  His body was\nthought to be found, but it was so terribly mutilated that it could be\nrecognized only by a sculptor, who chanced some time before to have taken\na phrenological cast of his skull.  His wife and only son had perished\nwith him.\n\n\"It is not easy now to conceive the excitement and dismay which this\ncatastrophe caused throughout France.  The new invention was at once\nassociated in the minds of an excitable people with novel forms of\nimminent death.  France had at best been laggard enough in its adoption\nof the new appliance, and now it seemed for a time as if the Versailles\ndisaster was to operate as a barrier in the way of all further railroad\ndevelopment.  Persons availed themselves of the steam roads already\nconstructed as rarely as possible, and then in fear and trembling, while\nsteps were taken to substitute horse for steam power on other roads then\nin process of construction.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN AMATEUR SIGNALMAN.\n\n\nMr. Williams in his book, _Our Iron Roads_, gives an account of a foolish\nact of signalling to stop a train; he says:--\"An Irishman, who appears to\nhave been in some measure acquainted with the science of signalling, was\non one occasion walking along the Great Western line without permission,\nwhen he thought he might reduce his information to practical use.\nAccordingly, on seeing an express train approach, he ran a short distance\nup the side of the cutting, and began to wave a handkerchief very\nenergetically, which he had secured to a stick, as a signal to stop.  The\nwarning was not to be disregarded, and never was command obeyed with\ngreater alacrity.  The works of the engine were reversed--the tender and\nvan breaks were applied--and soon, to the alarm of the passengers, the\ntrain came to a 'dead halt.'  A hundred heads were thrust out of the\ncarriage windows, and the guard had scarcely time to exclaim, 'What's the\nmatter?' when Paddy, with a knowing touch of his 'brinks,' asked his\n'honour if he would give him a bit of a ride?'  So polite and ingenuous a\nrequest was not to be denied, and, though biting his lips with annoyance,\nthe officer replied 'Oh, certainly; jump in here,' and the pilgrim was\nensconced in the luggage van.  But instead of having his ride 'for his\nthanks,' the functionary duly handed him over to the magisterial\nauthorities, that he might be taught the important lesson, that railway\ncompanies did not keep express trains for Irish beggars, and that such\ncostly machinery was not to be imperilled with impunity, either by their\nfreaks or their ignorance.\"\n\n\n\n\nSTEAM WHISTLE.\n\n\nIn the early days of railways, the signal of alarm was given by the\nblowing of a horn.  In the year, 1833, an accident occurred on the\nLeicester and Swannington railway near Thornton, at a level crossing,\nthrough an engine running against a horse and cart.  Mr. Bagster, the\nmanager, after narrating the circumstance to George Stephenson, asked \"Is\nit not possible to have a whistle fitted on the engine, which the steam\ncan blow?\"  \"A very good thought,\" replied Stephenson.  \"You go to Mr.\nSo-and-So, a musical instrument maker, and get a model made, and we will\nhave a steam whistle, and put it on the next engine that comes on the\nline.\"  When the model was made it was sent to the Newcastle factory and\nfuture engines had the whistle fitted on them.\n\n\n\n\nEXEMPTION FROM ACCIDENTS.\n\n\nMr. C. F. Adams, remarks:--\"Indeed, from the time of Mr. Huskisson's\ndeath, during the period of over eleven years, railroads enjoyed a\nremarkable and most fortunate exemption from accidents.  During all that\ntime there did not occur a single disaster resulting in any considerable\nloss of life.  This happy exemption was probably due to a variety of\ncauses.  Those early roads were in the first place, remarkably well and\nthoroughly built, and were very cautiously operated under a light volume\nof traffic.  The precautions then taken and the appliances in use would,\nit is true, strike the modern railroad superintendent as both primitive\nand comical; for instance, they involve the running of independent pilot\nlocomotives in advance of all night passenger trains, and it was, by the\nway, on a pioneer locomotive of this description, on the return trip of\nthe excursion party from Manchester after the accident to Mr. Huskisson,\nthat the first recorded attempt was made in the direction of our present\nelaborate system of night signals.  On that occasion obstacles were\nsignalled to those in charge of the succeeding trains by a man on the\npioneer locomotive, who used for that purpose a bit of lighted tarred\nrope.  Through all the years between 1830 and 1841, nevertheless, not a\nsingle serious railroad disaster had to be recorded.  Indeed, the\nluck--for it was nothing else--of these earlier times was truly amazing.\nThus on this same Liverpool and Manchester road, as a first-class train\non the morning of April 17, 1836, was moving at a speed of some thirty\nmiles an hour, an axle broke under the first passenger carriage, causing\nthe whole train to leave the rails and throwing it down the embankment,\nwhich at that point was twenty feet high.  The carriages were rolled\nover, and the passengers in them turned topsy-turvy; nor, as they were\nsecurely locked in, could they even extricate themselves when at last the\nwreck of the train reached firm bearings.  And yet no one was killed.\"\n\n\n\n\nRIVAL CONTRACTORS AND THE BLOTTING PAD.\n\n\nIn rails, the same system has prevailed.  Ironmasters have been pitted\nagainst each other, as to which should produce an apparent rail at the\nlowest price.  At the outset of railways the rails were made of iron.\nCompetition gradually produced rails in which a core, of what is\ntechnically called \"cinder,\" is covered up with a skin of iron; and the\ncleverest foreman for an ironmaster was the man who could make rails with\nthe maximum of cinder and the minimum of iron.  In more than one instance\nhas it been known in relaying an old line the worn-out rails have been\nsold at a higher price per ton than the new ones were bought for; yet\nthis would hardly open the eyes of the buyers.  The contrivances which\nare resorted to to get hold of one another's prices beforehand by\ncompeting contractors are manifold; and, when they attend in person, they\ncommonly put off the filling up of their tender till the last moment.\nOnce a shrewd contractor found himself at the same inn with a rival who\nalways trod close on his heels.  He was followed about and\ncross-questioned incessantly, and gave vague answers.  Within\nhalf-an-hour of the last moment he went into the coffee room and sat\nhimself down in a corner where his rival could not overlook him.  There\nand then he filled up his tender, and, as he rose from the table, left\nbehind him the paper on which he had blotted it.  As he left the room his\nrival caught up the blotting paper, and, with the exulting glee of a\nconsciously successful rival, read off the amount backwards.  \"Done this\ntime!\" was his mental thought, as he filled up his own tender a dollar\nlower, and hastened to deposit it.  To his utter surprise, the next day\nhe found that he had lost the contract, and complainingly asked his rival\nhow it was, for he had tendered below him.  \"How did you know you were\nbelow me?\"  \"Because I found your blotting paper.\"  \"I thought so.  I\nleft it on purpose for you, and wrote another tender in my bedroom.  You\nhad better make your own calculations next time!\"\n\n                                      --_Roads and Rails_, by W. B. Adams.\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY LEGISLATION.\n\n\nA writer in the _Encyclopaedia Britannica_ remarks:--\"The expenses,\ndirect and incidental, of obtaining an Act of Parliament have been in\nmany cases enormous, and generally are excessive.  The adherence to\nuseless and expensive forms of Parliamentary Committees in what are\ncalled the standing orders, or general regulations for the observance of\npromoters of railway bills, on the one part, and the itching for\nopposition of railway companies, to resist fancied inroads on vested\nrights, supposed injurious competition, on the other part, have been\namongst the sources of excessive expenditure.  Mr. Stephenson mentioned\nan instance showing how Parliament has entailed expense upon railway\ncompanies by the system complained of.  The Trent Valley Railway was\nunder other titles originally proposed in 1836.  It was, however, thrown\nout by the standing orders committee, in consequence of a barn of the\nvalue of 10 pounds, which was shown upon the general plan, not having\nbeen exhibited upon an enlarged sheet.  In 1840, the line again went\nbefore Parliament.  It was opposed by the Grand Junction Railway Company,\nnow part of the London and North-Western.  No less than 450 allegations\nwere made against it before the standing orders subcommittee, which was\nengaged twenty-two days in considering those objections.  They ultimately\nreported that four or five of the allegations were proved, but the\ncommittee nevertheless allowed the bill to proceed.  It was read a second\ntime and then went into committee, by whom it was under consideration for\nsixty-three days; and ultimately Parliament was prorogued before the\nreport could be made.  Such were the delays and consequent expenses which\nthe forms of the House occasioned in this case, that it may be doubted if\nthe ultimate cost of constructing the whole line was very much more than\nwas expended in obtaining permission from Parliament to make it.  This\nexample serves to show the expensive formalities, the delays, and\ndifficulties, with which Parliament surround railway legislation.\nAnother instance, quoted by the same authority, will show not only the\nabsurdity of the system of legislation, but also the afflicting spirit of\ncompetition and opposition with which railway bills are canvassed in\nParliament, and the expensive outlay incurred by companies themselves.\n\n\"In 1845, a bill for a line now existing went before Parliament with\neighteen competitors, each party relying on the wisdom of Parliament to\nallow their bill at least to pass a second reading!  Nineteen different\nparties condemned to one scene of contentious litigation!  They each and\nall had to pay not only the costs of promoting their own line, but also\nthe costs of opposing eighteen other bills.  And yet conscious as\ngovernment must have been of this fact, Parliament deliberately abandoned\nthe only step it ever took on any occasion of subjecting railway projects\nto investigation by a preliminary tribunal.  Parliamentary committees\ngenerally satisfied themselves with looking on and watching the ruinous\ngame of competition for which the public are ultimately to pay.  In fact,\nrailway legislation became a mere scramble, conducted on no system or\nprinciple.  Schemes of sound character were allowed to be defeated on\nmerely technical grounds, and others of very inferior character were\nsanctioned by public act, after enormous Parliamentary expenses had been\nincurred.  Competing lines were granted, sometimes parallel lines through\nthe same district, and between the same towns.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN EXPENSIVE PARLIAMENTARY BILL.\n\n\nA writer in the _Popular Encyclopaedia_ observes:--\"But the most\nconspicuous example in recent times, which overshadowed all others, of\nexcessive expenditure in Parliamentary litigation as well as in land and\ncompensation, is supplied in the history of the Great Northern Company.\nThe preliminary expenses of surveys, notices to landowners, etc.,\ncommenced in 1844, and the Bill was introduced into the House of Commons\nin 1845, when it was opposed by the London and North-Western, the Eastern\nCounties, and the Midland Railways.  It was further opposed successively\nby two other schemes, called the London and York and the Direct Northern.\nThe contest lasted eighty-two days before the House of Commons, more than\nhalf the time having been consumed by opposition to the Bill.  The Bill\nwas allowed to stand over till next year (1846), when it began, before\nthe Committee of the House of Lords, where it left off in the Lower House\nin the year 1845 on account of the magnitude of the case.  The Bill was\nbefore the Upper House between three and four weeks, and in the same year\n(1846) it was granted.  The promoters of the rival projects were bought\noff, and all their expenses paid, including the costs of the opposition\nof the neighbouring lines already named, before the Great Northern bill\nwas passed; and the 'preliminary expenses,' comprising the whole\nexpenditure of every kind up to the passing of the bill was 590,355\npounds, or more than half-a-million sterling, incurred at the end of two\nyears of litigation.  Subsequently to the passing of the Act an\nadditional sum of 172,722 pounds was expended for law engineering\nexpenses in Parliament to 31st December, 1857, which was spent almost\nwholly in obtaining leave from Parliament to make various alterations.\nThus it would appear that a sum total of 763,077 pounds was spent as\nParliamentary charges for obtaining leave to construct 245 miles, being\nat the rate of 3,118 pounds per mile.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE RECTOR AND HIS PIG.\n\n\n\"I have been a rector for many years,\" writes a clergyman, \"and have\noften heard and read of tithe-pigs, though I have never met with a\nspecimen of them.  But I had once a little pig given to me which was of a\nchoice breed, and only just able to leave his mother.  I had to convey\nhim by carriage to the X station; from thence, twenty-three miles to Y\nstation, and from thence, eighty-two miles to Z station, and from there,\neight miles by carriage.  I had a comfortable rabbit-hutch of a box made\nfor him, with a supply of fresh cabbages for his dinner on the road.  I\nstarted off with my wife, children, and nurse; and of these impediments\npiggy proved to be the most formidable.  First, a council of war was held\nover him at X station by the railway officials, who finally decided that\nthis small porker must travel as 'two dogs.'  Two dog tickets were\ntherefore procured for him; and so we journeyed on to Y station.  There a\nsecond council of war was held, and the officials of Y said that the\nofficials of X (another line) might be prosecuted for charging my piggy\nas two dogs, but that he must travel to Z as a horse, and that he must\nhave a huge horse-box entirely to himself for the next eighty-two miles.\nI declined to pay for the horse-box--they refused to let me have my\npig--officials swarmed around me--the station master advised me to pay\nfor the horse-box and probably the company would return the extra charge.\nI scorned the probability, having no faith in the company--the train (it\nwas a London express) was already detained ten minutes by this wrangle;\nand finally I whirled away bereft of my pig.  I felt sure that he would\nbe forwarded by the next train, but as that would not reach Z till a late\nhour in the evening, and it was Saturday, I had to tell my pig tale to\nthe officials; and not only so, but to go to the adjacent hotel and hire\na pig-stye till the Monday, and fee a porter for seeing to the pig until\nI could send a cart for him on that day.  Of course the pig was sent\nafter me by the next train; and as the charge for him was less than a\nhalfpenny a mile, I presume he was not considered to be a horse.  Yet\nthis fact remains--and it is worth the attention of the Zoological\nSociety, if not of railway officials--that this small porker was never\nrecognised as a pig, but began his railway journey as two dogs, and was\nthen changed into a horse.\"\n\n\n\n\nSIR MORTON PETO'S RAILWAY MISSION.\n\n\nMr., afterwards Sir S. Morton Peto, having undertaken the construction of\ncertain railways in East Anglia, was at this time in the habit of\nspending a considerable part of the year in the neighbourhood of Norwich,\nand, with his family, joined Mr. Brock's congregation.  It will\nafterwards appear how many important movements turned upon the friendship\nwhich was thus formed; but it is only now to be noted that, in the course\nof frequent conversations, the practicability was discussed of attempting\nsomething which might serve to interest and improve the large number of\nlabourers employed on the works in progress.  They were part of that\npeculiar body of men which had been gradually formed during a long course\nof years for employment in the construction, first of navigable canals,\nand then of railways, and called, from their earlier occupation,\n\"navvies.\"  They were drawn from diverse parts of the British Islands,\nand professed, in some instances, hostile forms of religion, but were\ndistinguished chiefly by extreme ignorance and all but total spiritual\ninsensibility.  They had, at the same time, a common life and an\nunwritten law, affecting their relations to each other, their employers,\nand the rest of the world.  That they were accessible to kind\nattentions--clearly disinterested--followed from their being men, but\nthey required to be approached with the greatest caution and patience.\nMr. Brock's wide and various sympathy, joined with his friend's steady\nsupport, led--under the divine blessing--to measures which proved very\nsuccessful.  Mr. Peto constructed commodious halls capable of being moved\nonward as the line of railway advanced, and affording comfortable shelter\nfor the men in their leisure hours, and furnished with books and\npublications supplying amusement, useful information, and religious\nknowledge.  To give life to this apparatus, Christian men, carefully\nselected, mingled familiarly with the rude but grateful toilers, helping\nthem to read and write, encouraging them to acquire self-command, and\nabove all, especially when they were convened on Sundays, presenting and\npressing home upon them the words of eternal life.\n\nMr. Brock had liberty to draw on the \"Railway Mission Account,\" at the\nNorwich Bank, to any extent that he found necessary, and in a short time\nhe had a body of the best men, he was accustomed to say, that he ever\nknew at work upon all the chief points of the lines.  No part of his now\nextended labours gave him greater delight than in superintending these\nmissionaries, reading their weekly journals, arranging their periodical\nmovements, counselling and comforting them in their difficulties, and\nvisiting them, sometimes apart and at other times at conferences for\nunited consultation and prayer, held at Yarmouth, Ely, or March.\n\nResults of the best character, of which the record is on high, arose out\nof these operations.\n\n                           --Birrell's _Life of the Rev. W. Brock_, _D.D._\n\n\n\n\nCLEVER CAPTURE.\n\n\nA few days ago (1845), a gentleman left Glasgow in one of the day trains,\nwith a large sum of money about his person.  On the train arriving at the\nEdinburgh terminus, the gentleman left it, along with the other\npassengers, on foot for some distance.  It was not long, however, before\nhe discovered that his pocket book, containing 700 pounds, in bank notes\nwas missing.  He immediately returned to the terminus, where the first\nperson he happened to find was the stoker of the train that had brought\nhim to Edinburgh, who, on being spoken to, remembered seeing the\ngentleman leaving the terminus, and another person following close behind\nhim, whom he supposed to be his servant; he further stated, that the\nsupposed servant had started to return with the train which had just left\nfor Glasgow.  The gentleman immediately ordered an express train, but as\nsome time elapsed before the steam could be got up, it was feared the\ngentleman and the stoker would not reach Glasgow in time to secure the\nculprit.  However, having gone the distance in about an hour, they had\nthe satisfaction of seeing the train before them close to the Cowlairs\nstation, just about to descend the inclined plane and tunnel, and thus\nwithin a mile and a half of the end of their journey.  The stoker\nimmediately sounded his whistle, which induced the conductor of the\npassenger train to conclude that some danger was in the way, who had his\ntrain removed to the other line of rails, which left the road then quite\nclear for the express train, which drove past the other with great speed,\nand arrived at the terminus in sufficient time to get everything ready\nfor the apprehension of the robber.  The stoker, who thought he could\nidentify the robber, assisted the police in searching the passenger\ntrain, when the person whom he had taken for the gentleman's servant was\nfound with the pocket book and also the 700 pounds safe and untouched.\nThe gentleman then offered a handsome reward to the stoker, who refused\nit on the plea that he had only done his duty; not satisfied, however,\nwith this answer, he left 100 pounds with the manager, requesting him to\npay the expenses of the express train, and particularly to reward the\nstoker for his activity, and to remit the remainder to his address.\nShortly after he received the whole 100 pounds, accompanied with a polite\nnote, declining any payment for the express train, and stating that it\nwas the duty of the company to reward the stoker, which they would not\nomit to do.\n\n                                                     --_Stirling Journal_.\n\n\n\n\nCOMPENSATION FOR LAND.\n\n\nMr. Williams, in _Our Iron Roads_, gives much interesting information\nupon the subject of compensation for land and buying off opposition to\nrailway schemes.  He says:--\"One noble lord had an estate near a proposed\nline of railway, and on this estate was a beautiful mansion.  Naturally\naverse to the desecration of his home and its neighbourhood, he gave his\nmost uncompromising opposition to the Bill, and found, in the Committee\nof both Houses, sympathizing listeners.  Little did it aid the projectors\nthat they urged that the line did not pass within six miles of that\nprincely domain; that the high road was much closer to his dwelling; and\nthat, as the spot nearest the house would be passed by means of a tunnel,\nno unsightliness would arise.  But no; no worldly consideration affected\nthe decision of the proprietor; and, arguments failing, it was found that\nan appeal must be made to other means.  His opposition was ultimately\nbought off for twenty-eight thousand pounds, to be paid when the railway\nreached his neighbourhood.  Time wore on, funds became scarce, and the\ncompany found that it would be best to stop short at a particular portion\nof their line, long before they reached the estate of the noble lord who\nhad so violently opposed their Bill, by which they sought to be released\nfrom the obligation of constructing the line which had been so obnoxious\nto him.  What was their surprise at finding this very man their chief\nopponent, and then fresh means had to be adopted for silencing his\nobjections!\n\n\"A line had to be brought near to the property of a certain Member of\nParliament.  It threatened no injury to the estate, either by affecting\nits appearance or its intrinsic worth; and, on the other hand, it\nafforded him a cheap, convenient, and expeditious means of communication\nwith the metropolis.  But the proprietor, being a legislator, had power\nat head-quarters, and by his influence he nearly turned the line of\nrailway aside; and this deviation would have cost the projectors the sum\nof _sixty thousand pounds_.  Now it so happened that the house of this\nhonourable member, who had thus insisted on such costly deference to his\npeculiar feelings respecting his property, was afflicted with the dry\nrot, and threatened every hour to fall upon the head of its owner.  To\npull down and rebuild it, would require the sum of thirty thousand\npounds.  The idea of compromise, beneficial to both parties, suggested\nitself.  If the railway company rebuilt the house, or paid 30,000 pounds\nto the owner of the estate, and were allowed to pursue their original\nline, it was clear that they would be 30,000 pounds the richer, as the\nenforced deviation would cost 60,000 pounds; and, on the other hand, the\nowner of the estate would obtain a secure house, or receive 30,000 pounds\nin money.  The proposed bargain was struck, and 30,000 pounds was paid by\nthe Company.  'How can you live in that house,' said some friend to him\nafterwards, 'with the railroad coming so near?'  'Had it not done so,'\nwas the reply, 'I could not have lived in it at all.'\n\n\"One rather original character sold some land to the London and\nBirmingham Company, and was loud and long in his outcries for\ncompensation, expatiating on the damages which the formation of the line\nwould inevitably bring to his property.  His complaints were only stopped\nby the payment of his demands.  A few months afterwards, a little\nadditional land was required from the same individual, when he actually\ndemanded a much larger price for the new land than was given him before;\nand, on surprise being expressed at the charge for that which he had\ndeclared would inevitably be greatly deteriorated in value from the\nproximity of the railway, he coolly replied: 'Oh, I made a mistake\n_then_, in thinking the railway would injure my property; it has\nincreased its value, and of course you must pay me an increased price for\nit.'\n\n\"On one occasion, a trial occurred in which an eminent land valuer was\nput into the witness box to swell the amount of damages, and he proceeded\nto expatiate on the injury committed by railroads in general, and\nespecially by the one in question, in _cutting up_ the properties they\ninvaded.  When he had finished the delivery of this weighty piece of\nevidence, the counsel for the Company put a newspaper into his hand, and\nasked him whether he had not inserted a certain advertisement therein.\nThe fact was undeniable, and on being read aloud, it proved to be a\ndeclaration by the land valuer himself, that the approach of the railway\nwhich he had come there to oppose, would prove exceedingly beneficial to\nsome property in its immediate vicinity then on sale.\n\n\"An illustration of the difference between the exorbitant demands made by\nparties for compensation, and the real value of the property, may be\nmentioned.  The first claim made by the Directors of the Glasgow Lunatic\nAsylum on the Edinburgh and Glasgow railway is stated to have been no\nless than 44,000 pounds.  Before the trial came on, this sum was reduced\nto 10,000 pounds; the amount awarded by the jury was 873 pounds.\n\n\"The opposition thus made, whether feigned or real, it was always\nadvisable to remove; and the money paid for this purpose, though\nostensibly in the purchase of the ground, has been on many occasions\nimmense.  Sums of 35,000, 40,000, 50,000, 100,000, and 120,000 pounds,\nhave thus been paid; while various ingenious plans have been adopted of\nremoving the opposition of influential men.  An honourable member is said\nto have received 30,000 pounds to withdraw his opposition to a Bill\nbefore the House; and 'not far off the celebrated year 1845, a lady of\ntitle, so gossip talks, asked a certain nobleman to support a certain\nBill, stating that, if he did, she had the authority of the secretary of\na great company to inform him that fifty shares in a certain railway,\nthen at a considerable premium, would be at his disposal.'\n\n\"One pleasing circumstance, however, highly honourable to the gentleman\nconcerned, must not be omitted.  The late Mr. Labouchere had made an\nagreement with the Eastern Counties Company for a passage through his\nestate near Chelmsford, for the price of 35,000 pounds; his son and\nsuccessor, the Right Honourable Henry Labouchere, finding that the\nproperty was not deteriorated to the anticipated extent, voluntarily\nreturned 15,000 pounds.\n\n\"The practice of buying off opposition has not been confined to the\nproprietors of land.  We learn from one of the Parliamentary Reports that\nin a certain district a pen-and-ink warfare between two rival companies\nran so high, and was, at least on one side, rewarded with such success,\nthat the friends of the older of the two projected lines thought it\nexpedient to enter into treaty with their literary opponent, and its\neditor very soon retired on a fortune.  It is also asserted, on good\nauthority, that, in a midland county, the facts and arguments of an\neditor were wielded with such vigour that the opposing company found it\nnecessary to adopt extraordinary means on the occasion.  Bribes were\noffered, but refused; an opposition paper was started, but its conductors\nquailed before the energy of their opponent, and it produced little\neffect; every scheme that ingenuity could devise, and money carry out,\nwas attempted, but they successively and utterly failed.  At length a\nDirector hit on a truly Machiavellian plan--he was introduced to the\nproprietor of the journal, whom he cautiously informed that he wished to\nrisk a few thousands in newspaper property, and actually induced his\nunconscious victim to sell the property, unknown to the editor.  When the\nbargain was concluded, the plot was discovered; but it was then too late,\nand the wily Director took possession of the copyright of the paper and\nthe printing office on behalf of the company.  The services of the\neditor, however, were not to be bought, he refused to barter away his\nindependence, and retired--taking with him the respect of both friends\nand enemies.\"\n\n\n\n\nA LANDOWNER'S OPPOSITION.\n\n\nIn _Herepath's Railway Journal_ for 1845 we meet with the following:--\"A\nlearned counsel, the other day, gave as a reason for a wealthy and\naristocratic landowner's opposition to a great line of railway\napproaching his residence by something more than a mile distance, that\n'His Lordship rode horses that would not bear the puff of a steam\nengine.'  Truly this was a most potent reason, and one that should weigh\nheavily against the scheme in the minds of the Committee.  His Lordship\nhas a wood some two miles off, between which and his residence this\nrailway is intended to pass.  His lordship is fond of amusing himself\nthere in hunting down little animals called hares, and sometimes treats\nhimself to a stag hunt.  Not the slightest interference is contemplated\nwith his lordship's pastime, or rather pursuit, for such it is, occupying\nnearly his whole time, and exercising all the ability of which he is\npossessed; but still he objects to the intrusion.  The bridge that is to\nbe constructed by the Company to give access to the wood, or forest, is\nin itself all that could be wished, forming, rather than otherwise, an\nornamental structure to his lordship's grounds; but then he fears that\nshould an engine chance (of course, these chances are not within his\ncontrol) to pass under the bridge at the same moment as he is passing\nover, his high blood horses would prance and rear, and suffer injury\ntherefrom.  His lordship is very careful and proud of his horse-flesh,\nand thinks it hard, and what the legislature ought not to tolerate, that\nthey (his horses) are to be worried, or subjected to the chance of it, by\nmaking a railway to serve the public wants!\n\n\"This _noble_ man is of opinion, too, that, should the railway be made,\nhe is entitled to an enormous amount of compensation; and, through his\nagent, assigns as a reason for his extravagant demand--we do not\nexaggerate the fact--that he is averse to railways in general, and\nconsiders the system as an unjustifiable invasion of the province of\nhorse-flesh.  This horse jockey lord thereby excuses his conscience in\nopposing and endeavouring to plunder the railway company as far as he\npossibly can.\"\n\n\n\n\nPICTURE EVIDENCE.\n\n\nAmongst laughable occurrences that enlivened the committee rooms during\nthe gauge contest, was a scene occasioned by a parliamentary counsel\nputting in as evidence, before the committee on the Southampton and\nManchester line, a printed picture of troubles consequent on a break of\ngauge.  The picture was a forcible sketch that had appeared a few days\nbefore in the pages of the _Illustrated London News_.  Opposing counsel\nof course argued against the production of the work of art as testimony\nfor the consideration of the committee.  After much argument on both\nsides the chairman decided in favour of receiving the illustration, which\nwas forthwith put, amidst much laughter, into the hands of a witness, who\nwas asked if it was a fair picture of the evils that arose from a break\nof gauge.  The witness replying in the affirmative, the engraving was\nthen laid before the committee for inspection.\n\n                                     --_Railway Chronicle_, June 13, 1846.\n\n\n\n\nEXTRAORDINARY USE OF THE ELECTRIC TELEGRAPH.\n\n\nOct. 7, 1847.  An extraordinary instance has occurred of the application\nof the electric telegraph at the London Bridge terminus of the South\nEastern Railway.\n\nHutchings, the man found guilty and sentenced to death for poisoning his\nwife, was to have been executed at Maidstone Goal at twelve o'clock.\nShortly before the appointed hour for carrying the sentence into effect,\na message was received at the London Bridge terminus, from the Home\nOffice, requesting that an order should be sent by the electric telegraph\ninstructing the Under-Sheriff at Maidstone to stay the execution two\nhours.  By the agency of the electric telegraph the communication was\nreceived in Maidstone with the usual rapidity, and the execution was for\na time stayed.  Shortly after the transmission of the order deferring the\nexecution, a messenger from the Home Office conveyed to the railway the\nSecretary of State's order, that the law was to take its course, and that\nthe culprit was to be at once executed.  The telegraph clerk hesitated to\nsending such a message without instructions from his principals.  The\nmessenger from the Home Office could not be certain that the order for\nHutchings's execution was signed by the Home Secretary, although it bore\nhis name; and Mr. Macgregor, the chairman, with great judgment and\nhumanity, instantly decided that it was not a sufficient authority in\nsuch a momentous matter.\n\nAn officer of confidence was immediately sent to the Secretary of State,\nto state their hesitation and its cause, as the message was, in fact, a\ndeath warrant, and that Mr. Walter must have undoubted evidence of its\ncorrectness.  On Mr. Walter drawing the attention of the Secretary of\nState to the fact, that the transmission of such a message was, in\neffect, to make him the Sheriff, the conduct of the railway company, in\nrequiring unquestionable evidence and authority, was warmly approved.\nThe proper signature was affixed in Mr. Walter's presence; and the\ntelegraph then conveyed to the criminal the sad news, that the suspension\nof the awful sentence was only temporary.  Hutchings was executed soon\nafter it reached Maidstone.\n\n                                                --_Annual Register_, 1847.\n\n\n\n\nLOST LUGGAGE.\n\n\nSir Francis Head, giving an account of the contents of the Lost Luggage\nOffice, at Euston Station, observes:--\"But there were a few articles that\ncertainly we were not prepared to meet with, and which but too clearly\nproved that the extraordinary terminus-excitement which had suddenly\ncaused so many virtuous ladies to elope from their red shawls--in short,\nto be all of a sudden not only in 'a bustle' behind, but all over--had\nequally affected men of all sorts and conditions.\n\n\"One gentleman had left behind him a pair of leather hunting breeches!\nanother his boot-jacks!  A soldier of the 22nd regiment had left his\nknapsack containing his kit.  Another soldier of the 10th, poor fellow,\nhad left his scarlet regimental coat!  Some <DW36>, probably overjoyed\nat the sight of his family, had left behind him his crutches!!  But what\nastonished us above all was, that some honest Scotchman, probably in the\necstasy of suddenly seeing among the crowd the face of his faithful\n_Jeanie_, had actually left behind him the best portion of his\nbagpipes!!!\n\n\"Some little time ago the superintendent, on breaking open, previous to a\ngeneral sale, a locked leather hat-box, which had lain in this dungeon\ntwo years, found in it, under the hat, 65 pounds in Bank of England\nnotes, with one or two private letters, which enabled him to restore the\nmoney to the owner, who, it turned out, had been so positive that had\nleft his hat-box at an hotel at Birmingham that he made no inquiry for it\nat the railway office.\"\n\n\n\n\nVERY NICE TO BE A RAILWAY ENGINEER.\n\n\nA lady in conversation with a railway engineer observed, \"It must be very\nnice to be a railway engineer, and be able to travel about anywhere you\nwant to go to for nothing.\"\n\n\"Yes, madam,\" was the reply, \"It would, as you say, be very nice to\ntravel about for nothing, _if we were not paid for it_.  But you see,\" he\nremarked, \"railway engineers are like the cabman's horse.  The cabman has\na very thin horse.  'Doesn't your horse have enough to eat?' inquired a\nbenevolent lady passenger.  'Oh yes, ma'am,' replied cabby, 'I give him\nlots o' victuals to eat, only, you see, he hasn't any time to eat 'em.'\nSo it is with the railway engineer; he has lots of pleasure of all kinds,\nonly he has not any time to take it.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN ACCOMMODATING CONTRACTOR.\n\n\nOne railway of some scores of miles hung fire; the directors were\ncongested with their fears of exceeding the estimates, and so a shrewd\nman of business, a contractor, i.e., a man with a mind contracted to\nprofit and a keen eye to discern the paths of profit, called on them.\nThis man had made his way upward, and passing through the process of\nsub-contracting, had obtained a glimpse of the upper glories.  And thus\nhe relieved the directors from their difficulties, by proffering to make\nthe railway complete in all its parts, buy the land at the commencement,\nand, if required, to engage the station-clerks at the conclusion, with\nall the staff complete, so that his patrons might have no trouble, but\nbegin business off-hand.  But the latter condition--the staff and\nclerks--being simply a matter of patronage, the directors kept that\ntrouble in their own hands.\n\nOur contractor loomed on the directors' minds as a guardian angel, a\nguarantee against responsibilities, backed by sufficient sureties, so the\nmatter was without delay handed over to him, and he knew what to do with\nit.\n\n                                      --_Roads and Rails_, by W. B. Adams.\n\n\n\n\nTHE TWO DUKES AND THE TRAVELLER.\n\n\nThe following amusing anecdote is related of a commercial traveller who\nhappened to get into the same railway carriage in which the Dukes of\nArgyle and Northumberland were travelling.  The three chatted familiarly\nuntil the train stopped at Alnwick Junction, where the Duke of\nNorthumberland got out, and was met by a train of flunkeys and servants.\n\"That must be a great swell,\" said the \"commercial,\" to his remaining\ncompanion.  \"Yes,\" responded the Duke of Argyle, \"he is the Duke of\nNorthumberland.\"  \"Bless my soul!\" exclaimed the \"commercial.\"  \"And to\nthink that he should have been so condescending to two little snobs like\nus!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE GREAT RAILWAY MANIA DAY.\n\n\nNever had there occurred, in the history of joint-stock enterprise, such\nanother day as the 30th of November, 1845.  It was the day on which a\nmadness for speculation arrived at its height, to be followed by a\ncollapse terrible to many thousand families.  Railways had been gradually\nbecoming successful, and the old companies had, in many cases, bought\noff, on very high terms, rival lines which threatened to interfere with\ntheir profits.  Both of these circumstances tended to encourage the\nconcoction of new schemes.  There is always floating capital in England\nwaiting for profitable employment; there are always professional men\nlooking out for employment in great engineering works; and there are\nalways scheming moneyless men ready to trade on the folly of others.\nThus the bankers and capitalists were willing to supply the capital; the\nengineers, surveyors, architects, contractors, builders, solicitors,\nbarristers, and Parliamentary agents were willing to supply the brains\nand fingers; while, too often, cunning schemers pulled the strings.  This\nwas especially the case in 1845, when plans for new railways were brought\nforward literally by hundreds, and with a recklessness perfectly\nmarvellous.\n\nBy an enactment in force at that time, it was necessary, for the\nprosecution of any railway scheme in Parliament, that a mass of documents\nshould be deposited with the Board of Trade, on or before the 30th of\nNovember in the preceding year.  The multitude of these schemes in 1845\nwas so great that there could not be found surveyors enough to prepare\nthe plans and sections in time.  Advertisements were inserted in the\nnewspapers offering enormous pay for even a smattering of this kind of\nskill.  Surveyors and architects from abroad were attracted to England;\nyoung men at home were tempted to break the articles into which they had\nentered with their masters; and others were seduced from various\nprofessions into that of railway engineers.  Sixty persons in the\nemployment of the Ordnance Department left their situations to gain\nenormous earnings in this way.  There were desperate fights in various\nparts of England between property-owners who were determined that their\nland should not be entered upon for the purpose of railway surveying, and\nsurveyors who knew that the schemes of their companies would be\nfrustrated unless the surveys were made and the plans deposited by the\n30th of November.  To attain this end, force, fraud, and bribery were\nfreely made use of.  The 30th of November, 1845, fell on a Sunday; but it\nwas no Sunday at the office near the Board of Trade.  Vehicles were\ndriving up during the whole of the day, with agents and clerks bringing\nplans and sections.  In country districts, as the day approached, and on\nthe morning of the day, coaches-and-four were in greater request than\neven at race-time, galloping at full speed to the nearest railway\nstation.  On the Great Western Railway an express train was hired by the\nagents of one new scheme.  The engine broke down; the train came to a\nstand-still at Maidenhead, and, in this state, was run into by another\nexpress train hired by the agents of a rival project; the opposite\nparties barely escaped with their lives, but contrived to reach London at\nthe last moment.  On this eventful Sunday there were no fewer than ten of\nthese express trains on the Great Western Railway, and eighteen on the\nEastern Counties!  One railway company was unable to deposit its papers\nbecause another company surreptitiously bought, for a high sum, twenty of\nthe necessary sheets from the lithographic printer, and horses were\nkilled in madly running about in search of the missing documents before\nthe fraud was discovered.  In some cases the lithographic stones were\nstolen; and in one instance the printer was bribed, by a large sum, not\nto finish in proper time the plans for a rival line.  One eminent house\nbrought over four hundred lithographic printers from Belgium, and even\nthen, and with these, all the work ordered could not be executed.  Some\nof the plans were only two-thirds lithographed, the rest being filled up\nby hand.  However executed, the problem was to get these documents to\nWhitehall before midnight on the 30th of November.  Two guineas a mile\nwere in one instance paid for post-horses.  One express train steamed up\nto London 118 miles in an hour-and-a-half, nearly 80 miles an hour.  An\nestablished company having refused an express train to the promoters of a\nrival scheme, the latter employed persons to get up a mock funeral\ncortege, and engage an express train to convey it to London; they did so,\nand the plans and sections came _in the hearse_, with solicitors and\nsurveyors as mourners!\n\nCopies of many of the documents had to be deposited with the clerks of\nthe peace of the counties to which the schemes severally related, as well\nas with the Board of Trade; and at some of the offices of these clerks,\nstrange scenes occurred on the Sunday.  At Preston, the doors of the\noffice were not opened, as the officials considered the orders which had\nbeen issued to keep open on that particular Sunday, to apply only to the\nBoard of Trade; but a crowd of law agents and surveyors assembled, broke\nthe windows, and threw their plans and sections into the office.  At the\nBoard of Trade, extra clerks were employed on that day, and all went\npretty smoothly until nine o'clock in the evening.  A rule was laid down\nfor receiving the plans and sections, hearing a few words of explanation\nfrom the agents, and making certain entries in books.  But at length the\nwork accumulated more rapidly than the clerks could attend to it, and the\nagents arrived in greater number than the entrance hall could hold.  The\nanxiety was somewhat allayed by an announcement, that whoever was inside\nthe building before the clock struck twelve should be deemed in good\ntime.  Many of the agents bore the familiar name of Smith; and when 'Mr.\nSmith' was summoned by the messenger to enter and speak concerning some\nscheme, the name of which was not announced, in rushed several persons,\nof whom, of course, only one could be the right Mr. Smith at that\nparticular moment.  One agent arrived while the clock was striking\ntwelve, and was admitted.  Soon afterwards, a carriage with reeking\nhorses drove up; three agents rushed out, and finding the door closed,\nrang furiously at the bell; no sooner did a policeman open the door to\nsay that the time was past, than the agents threw their bundles of plans\nand sections through the half-opened door into the hall; but this was not\npermitted, and the policeman threw the documents out into the street.\nThe baffled agents were nearly maddened with vexation; for they had\narrived in London from Harwich in good time, and had been driven about\nPimlico hither and thither, by a post-boy who did not, or would not, know\nthe way to the office of the Board of Trade.\n\nThe _Times_ newspaper, in the same month, devoted three whole pages to an\nelaborate analysis, by Mr. Spackman, of the various railway schemes\nbrought forward in 1845.  \"There were no less than 620 in number,\ninvolving an (hypothetical) expenditure of 560 millions sterling; besides\n643 other schemes which had not gone further than issuing prospectuses.\nMore than 500 of the schemes went through all the stages necessary for\nbeing brought before Parliament; and 272 of these became Acts of\nParliament in 1846--to the ruin of thousands who had afterwards to find\nthe money to fulfil the engagements into which they had so rashly\nentered.\n\n                                              --_Chambers's Book of Days_.\n\n\n\n\nPARODY UPON THE RAILWAY MANIA.\n\n\nAbout the time of the bursting of the railway bubble, or the collapse of\nthe mania of 1844-5, the following clever lines appeared:--\n\n    \"There was a sound of revelry by night.\"--_Childe Harold_.\n\n    \"There was a sound that ceased not day or night,\n       Of speculation.  London gathered then\n    Unwonted crowds, and moved by promise bright,\n       To Capel-court rushed women, boys, and men,\n       All seeking railway shares and scrip; and when\n    The market rose, how many a lad could tell,\n       With joyous glance, and eyes that spake again,\n    'Twas e'en more lucrative than marrying well;--\n    When, hark! that warning voice strikes like a rising knell.\n\n    Nay, it is nothing, empty as the wind,\n       But a 'bear' whisper down Throgmorton-street;\n    Wild enterprise shall still be unconfined;\n       No rest for us, when rising premiums greet\n       The morn to pour their treasures at our feet;\n    When, hark! that solemn sound is heard once more,\n       The gathering 'bears' its echoes yet repeat--\n    'Tis but too true, is now the general roar,\n    The Bank has raised her rate, as she has done before.\n\n    And then and there were hurryings to and fro,\n       And anxious thoughts, and signs of sad distress\n    Faces all pale, that but an hour ago\n       Smiled at the thoughts of their own craftiness.\n       And there were sudden partings, such as press\n    The coin from hungry pockets--mutual sighs\n       Of brokers and their clients.  Who can guess\n    How many a stag already panting flies,\n    When upon times so bright such awful panics rise?\"\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY FACILITIES FOR BUSINESS.\n\n\nA gentleman went to Liverpool in the morning, purchased, and took back\nwith him to Manchester, 150 tons of cotton, which he sold, and afterwards\nobtained an order for a similar quantity.  He went again, and actually,\nthat same evening, delivered the second quantity in Manchester, \"having\ntravelled 120 miles in four separate journeys, and bought, sold, and\ndelivered, 30 miles off, at two distinct deliveries, 300 tons of goods,\nin about 12 hours.\"  The occurrence is perfectly astounding; and, had it\nbeen hinted at fifty years ago, would have been deemed impossible.\n\n                                               --_Railway Magazine_, 1840.\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAYS AND THE POST-OFFICE.\n\n\nIt might naturally be thought that the new and quicker means of transport\nafforded by the railway would be eagerly utilised by the Post-office.\nThere were, however, difficulties on both sides.  The railway companies\nobjected to running trains during the night, and the old stage-coach\noffered the advantage of greater regularity.  The railway was quicker,\nbut was at least occasionally uncertain.  Thus, in November, 1837, the\nfour daily mail trains between Liverpool and Birmingham on ten occasions\narrived before the specified time, on eight occasions were exact to time,\nand on 102 occasions varied in lateness of arrival from five minutes to\nfive hours and five minutes.  There were all sorts of mishaps and long\ndelays by train.  The mail guard, like the passenger guard, rode outside\nthe train with a box before him called an \"imperial,\" which contained the\nletters and papers entrusted to his charge.  In very stormy weather the\nmail guard would prop up the lid of his imperial and get inside for\nshelter.  On one occasion when the mail arrived at Liverpool the guard\nwas found imprisoned in his letter-box.  The lid had fallen and fastened\nin the male travesty of \"Ginevra.\"  Fortunately for him it was a\nburlesque and not a tragedy.  Bags thrown to the guards at wayside\nstations not unfrequently got under the wheels of the train and the\ncontents were cut to pieces.  On one occasion, on the Grand Junction, an\nengine failed through the fire-bars coming out.  The mails were removed\nfrom the train and run on a platelayer's \"trolly,\" but unfortunately the\ncontents of the bags took fire and were destroyed.  But many of these\nmishaps were obviated by the invention of Mr. Nathaniel Worsdell, a\nLiverpool coachbuilder, in the service of the railway, who took out a\npatent in 1838 for an appliance for picking up and dropping mail bags\nwhile the train was at full speed.  This is still used.  The loads of\nrailway vehicles, it may be mentioned, were limited by law to four tons\nuntil the passage of the 5 and 6 Vic., c. 55.  In 1837, when the weight\nof the mails passing daily on the London and Birmingham line was only\nabout 14cwt., the late Sir Hardman Earle suggested that a special\ncompartment should be reserved for the mail guard in which he could sort\nthe letters _en route_.  The first vehicle specially set apart for mail\npurposes was put upon the Grand Junction in 1838.  From this humble\nbeginning has gradually developed the express mails, in which the chief\nconsideration is the swift transit of correspondence, and which are\ntherefore limited in the number of the passengers they are allowed to\ncarry.  The cost of carrying the mails in 1838 and 1839 between\nManchester and Liverpool by rail, including the guard's fare, averaged\nabout 1 pound a trip, or half of the cost of sending them by coach.  The\nprice paid to the Grand Junction for carriage of mails between Manchester\nand Liverpool and Birmingham was 1d. a mile for the guard and 0.75d. per\ncwt. per mile for the mails.  This brought a revenue of about 3,000\npounds a year.  When the Chancellor of the Exchequer proposed and carried\nthe imposition of the passenger duty, in 1832, the company intimated to\nthe Post-office that they should advance the mail guard's fare 0.5d. per\nmile.  In 1840 an agreement was negotiated between the Post-office and\nrailway authorities to convey the mails between Lancashire and Birmingham\nfour times daily for 19 pounds 10s. a day, with a penalty of 500 pounds\non the railway company in case of bad time keeping.  This agreement was\nnot carried into effect.\n\n                                                  --_Manchester Guardian_.\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY SIGNALS.\n\n\nThe history of railway signals is a curious page in the annals of\npractical science.  For some years signals seem scarcely to have been\ndreamt of.  Holding up a hat or an umbrella was at first sufficient to\nstop a train at an intermediate station.  At level crossings the gates\nhad to stand closed across the line of rails, and on the top bar hung a\nlamp to indicate to drivers that the way was blocked.  In 1839, Colonel\nLandman, of the Croydon line, said that he should avoid the danger at a\njunction during a fog by going slowly, tolling a bell, beating a drum, or\nsounding a whistle.  The first junction signal was denominated a\nlighthouse.  The difficulties attending junctions may be judged of by the\nfact that when the Bolton and Preston line was ready for opening it was\nagreed that no train should attempt to enter or leave the North Union\nline at Euxton junction within fifteen minutes of a train being due on\nthe main line which might interfere with it.  The movable rails at\njunctions had to be removed by hand and fixed into position by hammer and\npin.  Mr. Watts, engineer to the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway, is\nbelieved to have been one of the first to use the tapering movable\nswitch.  One of Mr. Watts's men invented the back weight, another\ndesigned the crank, while a third suggested the long rod.  These\nimprovements were all about the year 1846.  The first fixed signal set up\nat stations was an ordinary round flag pole having a pulley on the top,\nupon which was hoisted a green flag to stop a train and a red one to\nindicate danger on the road.  The night signal was a hand lamp hoisted in\nthe same way.  These were superseded by a signal on which an arm was\nworked at the end of a rod, and a square lamp with two sides, red and\nwhite, having blinkers working on hinges to shut out the light.  These\nwere used until 1848.  The semaphores only came into practical use some\n20 years ago, and it is remarkable that the first time they were used on\nthe Liverpool and Manchester line they were the cause of a slight\ncollision.  The use of signal lights on trains was much advanced by two\naccidents which occurred on the North Union line on the 7th September,\n1841.  One of these happened at Farrington, where two passenger trains\ncame into collision.  The other happened at Euxton, where a coal train\nran into a stage coach which was taking passengers to Southport.  The\nRev. Mr. Joy was killed, and several others, including the station\nmaster, who lost one leg, were injured.  These were the first serious\naccidents investigated by the now Government Inspector of Railways, Sir\nFrederic Smith, who was appointed by the Board of Trade under Lord\nSeymour's Act.\n\n                                                  --_Manchester Guardian_.\n\n\n\n\nFOG-SIGNALS.\n\n\nDuring the prevalence of fogs, when neither signal-posts nor lights are\nof any use, detonating signals are frequently employed, which are affixed\nto the rails, and exploded by the iron tread of the advancing locomotive.\nAll guards, policemen, and pointsmen who are not appointed to stations,\nand all enginemen, gatemen, gangers and platelayers, and tunnel-men, are\nprovided with packets of these signals, which they are required always to\nhave ready for use whilst on duty; and every engine, on passing over one\nof these signals, is to be immediately stopped, and the guards are to\nprotect their train by sending back and placing a similar signal on the\nline behind them every two hundred yards, to the distance of six hundred\nyards; the train may then proceed slowly to the place of obstruction.\nWhen these detonating signals were first invented, it was resolved to\nascertain whether they acted efficiently, and especially whether the\nnoise they produced was sufficient to be distinctly heard by the engine\ndriver.  One of them was accordingly fixed to the rails on a particular\nline by the authority of the company, and in due time the train having\npassed over it, reached its destination.  Here the engine driver and his\ncolleague were found to be in a state of great alarm, in consequence of a\nsupposed attack being made on them by an assassin, who, they said, lay\ndown beside the line of rails on which they had passed, and deliberately\nfired at them.  The efficiency of the means having thus been tested, the\napprehensions of the enginemen were removed, though there was at first\nevident mortification manifested that they had been made the subjects of\nsuch a successful experiment.\n\n                                      --F. S. Williams's _Our Iron Roads_.\n\n\n\n\n\"ALMOST DAR NOW.\"\n\n\nThe following anecdote, illustrative of railroad facility, is very\npointed.  A traveller inquired of a <DW64> the distance to a certain\npoint.  \"Dat 'pends on circumstances,\" replied darkey.  \"If you gwine\nafoot, it'll take you about a day; if you gwine in de stage or homneybus,\nyou make it half a day; but if you get in one of _dese smoke wagons_, you\nbe almost dar now.\"\n\n\n\n\nWORDSWORTH'S PROTEST.\n\n\nLines written by Wordsworth as a protest against making a railway from\nKendal to Windermere:--\n\n    \"Is there no nook of English ground secure\n    From rash assault?  Schemes of retirement sown\n    In youth, and 'mid the world kept pure\n    As when their earliest flowers of hope were blown,\n    Must perish; how can they this blight endure?\n    And must he, too, his old delights disown,\n    Who scorns a false, utilitarian lure\n    'Mid his paternal fields at random thrown?\n    Baffle the threat, bright scene, from Orrest-head,\n    Given to the pausing traveller's rapturous glance!\n    Plead for thy peace, thou beautiful romance\n    Of nature; and if human hearts be dead,\n    Speak, passing winds; ye torrents, with your strong\n    And constant voice, protest against the wrong!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE HON. EDWARD EVERETT'S REPLY TO WORDSWORTH'S PROTEST.\n\n\nThe Hon. Edward Everett in the course of his speech at the Boston\nRailroad Jubilee in commemoration of the opening of railroad\ncommunication between Boston and Canada, observed, \"But, sir, as I have\nalready said, it is not the material results of this railroad system in\nwhich its happiest influences are seen.  I recollect that seven or eight\nyears ago there was a project to carry a railroad into the lake country\nin England--into the heart of Westmoreland and Cumberland.  Mr.\nWordsworth, the lately deceased poet, a resident in the centre of this\nregion, opposed the project.  He thought that the retirement and\nseclusion of this delightful region would be disturbed by the panting of\nthe locomotive and the cry of the steam whistle.  If I am not mistaken,\nhe published one or two sonnets in deprecation of the enterprise.  Mr.\nWordsworth was a kind-hearted man, as well as a most distinguished poet,\nbut he was entirely mistaken, as it seems to me, in this matter.  The\nquiet of a few spots may be disturbed, but a hundred quiet spots are\nrendered accessible.  The bustle of the station-house may take the place\nof the Druidical silence of some shady dell; but, Gracious Heavens, sir,\nhow many of those verdant cathedral arches, entwined by the hand of God\nin our pathless woods, are opened to the grateful worship of man by these\nmeans of communication?\n\n\"How little of rural beauty you lose, even in a country of comparatively\nnarrow dimensions like England--how less than little in a country so vast\nas this--by works of this description.  You lose a little strip along the\nline of the road, which partially changes its character; while, as the\ncompensation, you bring all this rural beauty,\n\n    'The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,\n    The pomp of groves, the garniture of fields,'\n\nwithin the reach, not of a score of luxurious, sauntering tourists, but\nof the great mass of the population, who have senses and tastes as keen\nas the keenest.  You throw it open, with all its soothing and humanizing\ninfluences, to thousands who, but for your railways and steamers, would\nhave lived and died without ever having breathed the life-giving air of\nthe mountains; yes, sir, to tens of thousands who would have gone to\ntheir graves, and the sooner for the prevention, without ever having\ncaught a glimpse of the most magnificent and beautiful spectacle which\nnature presents to the eye of man, that of a glorious curving wave, a\nquarter-of-a-mile long, as it comes swelling and breasting toward the\nshore, till its soft green ridge bursts into a crest of snow, and settles\nand digs along the whispering sands.\"\n\n\n\n\nREMARKABLE ADVERTISEMENT.\n\n\nThe most astonishing kind of property to leave behind at a railway\nstation is mentioned in an advertisement which appeared in the newspapers\ndated Swindon, April 27th, 1844.  It gave notice \"That a pair of bright\nbay horses, about sixteen hands high, with black switch tails and manes,\"\nhad been left in the name of Hibbert; and notice was given that unless\nthe horses were claimed on or before the 12th day of May, they would be\nsold to pay expenses.  Accordingly on that day they were sold.\n\n                                                      --_Household Words_.\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY EPIGRAM.\n\n\nIn 1845, during the discussions on the Midland lines before the Committee\nof the House of Commons, Mr. Hill, the Counsel, was addressing the\nCommittee, when Sir John Rae Reid, who was a member of it, handed the\nfollowing lines to the chairman:--\n\n    \"Ye railway men, who mountains lower,\n    Who level locks and valleys fill;\n    Who thro' the _hills_ vast tunnels _bore_;\n    Must now in turn be _bored by Hill_.\"\n\n\n\n\nSINGULAR CIRCUMSTANCE.\n\n\nA certain gentleman of large property, and who had figured, if he does\nnot now figure, as a Railway Director, applied for shares in a certain\nprojected railway.  Fifty, it seems were allotted to him.  Whether that\nwas the number he applied for or not, deponent saith not; but by some\nmeans nothing (0) got added to the 50 and made it 500.  The deposit for\nthe said 500 was paid into the bankers', the scrip obtained, and before\nthe mistake could be detected and corrected--for no doubt it was only a\nmistake, or at most a _lapsus pennae_--the shares were sold, and some\n2000 pounds profit by this very fortunate accident found its way into the\npocket of the gentleman.\n\n                                             --_Herepath's Journal_, 1845.\n\n\n\n\nLOUIS PHILIPPE AND THE ENGLISH NAVVIES.\n\n\nWhittlesea Will, William Elthorpe, from Cambridgeshire, had a large\nrailway experience; during the construction of Longton Tunnel, he told me\nthe following story:--\"Ye see, Mr. Smith (Samuel Smith, of Woodberry\nDown), I was a ganger for Mr. Price on the Marseilles and Avignon Line in\nFrance, and I'd gangs of all nations to deal with.  Well, I could not\nmanage 'em nohow mixed--there were the Jarman Gang, the French Gang, the\nEnglish, Scotch, and Irish Gangs, of course; the Belgic Gang, the Spanish\nGang, and the Peamounter Gang--that's a Gang, d'ye see, that comes off\nthe mountains somewhere towards Italy.\"  \"Oh, the Piedmontese, you mean.\"\n\"Well, you may call 'em Peedmanteeze if you like, but we call'd 'em\nPeamounters--and so at last I hit on the plan of putting each gang by\nitself; gangs o' nations, the Peamounter gang here, the Jarman gang\nthere, and the Belgic gang there, and so on, and it worked capital, each\ngang worked against the other gang like good 'uns.\n\n\"Well one day our master, Mr. Price, gave the English gang a great\nentertainment at a sort of Tea Garden place, near Paris, called Maison\nLafitte, and we were coming home along the road before dark--it was a\nsummer's evening--singing and shouting pretty loud, I dare say, when a\nfat, oldish gentleman rode into the midst of us and pulling up said,\ntaking off his hat--'I think you are English Navigators.'  'Well, and\nwhat if we are, old fellow, what's that to you?'  'Why, you are making a\nvery great noise, and I noticed you did not make way for me, or salute me\nas we met, which is not polite--every one in France salutes a gentleman.\nI've been in England, I like the English,' by this time his military\nattendants rode up, and seeing him alone in the midst of us were going to\nride us down at once but the old boy beckoned with his hand for them to\nhold back, and continued his sarmont.  'I should wish you,' says he,\nquite pleasant, 'whilst you remain in France to be orderly, obliging,\ncivil, and polite; it's always the best--now remember this: and here's\nsomething for you to remember Louis Philippe by;' putting his hand into\nhis pocket, he pulled out what silver he had, I suppose, threw it among\nus, and rode off--but, my eyes, didn't we give him a cheer!\"\n\n\n\n\nADVANTAGES OF RAILWAY-TUNNELS.\n\n\nWe cannot help repeating a narrative which we heard on one occasion, told\nwith infinite gravity by a clergyman whose name we at once inquired\nabout, and of whom we shall only say, that he is one of the worthiest and\nbest sons of the kirk, and knows when to be serious as well as when to\njest.  \"Don't tell me,\" said he to a simple-looking Highland brother, who\nhad apparently made his first trial of railway travelling in coming up to\nthe Assembly--\"don't tell me that tunnels on railways are an unmitigated\nevil: they serve high moral and aesthetical purposes.  Only the other day\nI got into a railway carriage, and I had hardly taken my seat, when the\ntrain started.  On looking up, I saw sitting opposite to me two of the\nmost rabid dissenters in Scotland.  I felt at once that there could be no\npleasure for me in that journey, and with gloomy heart and countenance I\nleaned back in my corner.  But all at once we plunged into a deep tunnel,\nblack as night, and when we emerged at the other end, my brow was clear\nand my ill-humour was entirely dissipated.  Shall I tell you how this\ncame to be?  All the way through the tunnel I was shaking my fists in the\ndissenters' faces, and making horrible mouths at them, and _that_\nrelieved me, and set me all right.  Don't speak against tunnels again, my\ndear friend.\"\n\n                                                    --_Fraser's Magazine_.\n\n\n\n\nDAMAGES EASILY ADJUSTED.\n\n\nIt is related that the President of the Fitchburg Railroad, some thirty\nyears ago, settled with a number of passengers who had been wet but not\nseriously injured by the running off of a train into the river, by paying\nthem from $5 to $20 each.  One of them, a sailor, when his terms were\nasked, said:--\"Well, you see, mister, when I was down in the water, I\nlooked up to the bridge and calculated that we had fallen fifteen feet,\nso if you will pay me a dollar a foot I will call it square.\"\n\n\n\n\nLIABILITIES OF RAILWAY ENGINEERS FOR THEIR ERRORS.\n\n\nAn action was tried before Mr. Justice Maule, July 30, 1846--the first\ncase of the kind--which established the liability of railway engineers\nfor the consequences of any errors they commit.\n\nThe action was brought by the Dudley and Madeley Company against Mr.\nGiles, the engineer.  They had paid him 4,000 pounds for the preparation\nof the plans, etc., but when the time arrived for depositing them with\nthe Board of Trade they were not completely ready.  The scheme had\nconsequently failed.  This conduct of the defendant it was estimated had\ninjured the company to the extent of 40,000 pounds.  The counsel for the\nplaintiff did not claim damages to this amount, but would be content with\nsuch a sum as the jury should, under the circumstances, think the\ndefendant ought to pay, as a penalty for the negligence of which he had\nbeen guilty.  For Mr. Giles, it was contended, that the jury ought not,\nat the worst, to find a verdict for more than 1,700 pounds, alleging that\nthe remainder 2,300 pounds had been paid by him in wages for work done,\nand materials used.\n\nThe jury, however, returned a verdict to the tune of 4,500, or 500 pounds\nbeyond the full sum paid him.\n\nBut, what said the judge?  That \"it was clear that the defendant had\nundertaken more work than he could complete, and that he should not be\nallowed to gratify with impunity, and to the injury of the plaintiffs,\nhis desire to realise in a few months a fortune which should only be the\nresult of the labour of years.\"\n\n\n\n\nEXTRAORDINARY ACCIDENT.\n\n\nYesterday afternoon, as the Leeds train, which left that terminus at a\nquarter-past one o'clock, was approaching Rugby, and within four miles of\nthat station, an umbrella behind the private carriage of Earl Zetland\ntook fire, in consequence of a spark from the engine falling on it, and\npresently the imperial on the roof and the upper part of the carriage\nwere in a blaze.  Seated within it were the Countess of Zetland and her\nmaid.  The train was proceeding at the rate of forty miles an hour.\nUnder these circumstances, Her Ladyship and maid descended from the\ncarriage to the truck, when--despite the caution to hold on given by a\ngentleman from a window of one of the railway carriages--the maid threw\nherself headlong on the rail, and was speedily lost sight of.  On the\narrival of the train at Rugby an engine was despatched along the line,\nwhen the young woman was found severely injured, and taken to the\nInfirmary at Leicester.  Lady Zetland remained at Rugby, where she was\njoined by His Lordship and the family physician last night, by an express\ntrain from Euston-square.  How long will railway companies delay\nestablishing a means of communication between passengers and the guard?\n\n                                                --_Times_, Dec. 9th, 1847.\n\n\n\n\nPROVIDENTIAL ESCAPE.\n\n\nOn Monday, at the New Bailey, two men, named William Hatfield and Mark\nClegg, the former an engine-driver and the latter a fireman in the employ\nof the London and North-Western Railway, were brought up before Mr.\nTrafford, the stipendiary magistrate, and Captain Whittaker, charged with\ndrunkenness and gross negligence in the discharge of their duty.  Mr.\nWagstaff, solicitor, of Warrington, appeared on behalf of the Company,\nand from his statement and the evidence of the witnesses it appeared that\nthe prisoners had charge of the night mail train from Liverpool to\nLondon, on Saturday, December 25, 1847.  The number of carriages and\npassengers was not stated, but the pointsman at the Warrington junction\nbeing at his post, waiting for the train, was surprised to hear it coming\nat a very rapid rate.  He had been preparing to turn the points in order\nto shunt the train on to the Warrington junction, but as the train did\nnot diminish in speed, but rather increased as it approached, he,\nanticipating great danger if he should turn the points, determined on the\ninstant upon letting the train take its course, and not turning them.\nMost fortunate was it that he exercised so much judgment and sagacity,\nfor, in consequence of the acuteness of the curve at Warrington junction\nand the tremendous rate at which the train was proceeding--not less than\nforty miles an hour--it does not appear that anything could have\notherwise prevented the train from being overturned, and a frightful\nsacrifice of human life ensuing.  Meantime the train continued its\nfrightful progress; but the mail guard seated at the end of the train,\nperceiving that it was going on towards Manchester, instead of staying at\nthe junction, signalled to the engine-driver and fireman, but without\neffect, no notice whatever being taken of the signal.  Finding this to be\nthe case, he, at very considerable risk, passed over from carriage to\ncarriage till he reached the engine, where he found both the prisoners\nlying drunk.  At length, at Patricroft, however, he succeeded in stopping\nthe train just before it reached that station, a distance of 14 miles\nfrom Warrington.  This again appears to be almost a miraculous\ncircumstance, for at the Patricroft station, on the same line as that on\nwhich the mail train was running was another train, containing a number\nof passengers, who thus escaped from the consequences of a dreadful\ncollision.  The prisoners were, of course, immediately given into\ncustody, and convoyed to the New Bailey prison, while, other assistance\nbeing obtained, the train was taken back again to Warrington junction.\nThe regulation is in consequence of the sharp curve at this junction,\nthat the trains shall not run more than five miles an hour.  The bench\nsentenced both prisoners to two months hard labour.\n\n                                                  --_Manchester Examiner_.\n\n\n\n\nHIS PORTMANTEAU.\n\n\nAn English traveller in Germany entered a first-class carriage in which\nthere was only one seat vacant, a middle one.  A corner seat was occupied\nby a German, who evidently had placed his portmanteau on the opposite\none--at least the traveller suspected that this was the case.  The latter\nasked, \"Is this seat engaged?\"  \"Yes,\" was the reply.  When the time for\nthe departure of the train had almost arrived, the Englishman said, \"Your\nfriend is going to miss the train, if he is not quick.\"  \"Oh, that is all\nright.  I'll keep it for him.\"  Soon the signal came and the train\nstarted, when the passenger seized the portmanteau, and threw it out of\nthe window, exclaiming, \"He's missed his train but he mustn't lose his\nbaggage!\"  That portmanteau was the German's.\n\n\n\n\nGROWTH OF STATION BOOKSHOPS.\n\n\nThe gradual rise of the railway book-trade is a singular feature of our\nmarvellous railway era.  In the first instance, when the scope and\ncapabilities of the rail had yet to be ascertained, the privilege of\nselling books, newspapers, etc., at the several stations was freely\ngranted to any who might think proper to claim it.  Vendors came and\nwent, when and how they chose, their trade was of the humblest, and their\nprofits were as varying as their punctuality.  By degrees the business\nassumed shape, the newspaper man found it his interest to maintain a\n_locus standi_ in the establishment, and the establishment, in its turn,\ndiscerned a substantial means of helping the poor or the deserving among\nits servants.  A <DW36> maimed in the company's service, or a married\nservant of a director or secretary, superseded the first batch of\nstragglers and assumed responsibility by express appointment.  The\nresponsibility, in truth, was not very great at starting.  Railway\ntravelling, at the time referred to, occupied but a very small portion of\na man's time.  The longest line reached only thirty miles, and no\ntraveller required anything more solid than his newspaper for his hour's\nsteaming.  But as the iron lengthened, and as cities remote from each\nother were brought closer, the time spent in the railway carriage\nextended, travellers multiplied, and the newspaper ceased to be\nsufficient for the journey.  At this period reading matter for the rail\nsensibly increased; the tide of cheap literature set in.  French novels,\nunfortunately, of questionable character were introduced by the newsman,\nsimply because he could buy them at one-third less than any other\npublication selling at the same price.  The public purchased the wares\nthey saw before them, and very soon the ingenious caterers for railway\nreaders flattered themselves that there was a general demand amongst all\nclasses for the peculiar style of literature upon which it had been their\ngood fortune to hit.  The more eminent booksellers and publishers stood\naloof, whilst others, less scrupulous, finding a market open and\nready-made to their hands were only too eager to supply it.  It was then\nthat the _Parlour Library_ was set on foot.  Immense numbers of this work\nwere sold to travellers, and every addition to the stock was positively\nmade on the assumption that persons of the better class, who constitute\nthe larger portion of railway readers, lose their accustomed taste the\nmoment they smell the engine and present themselves to the railway\nlibrarian.\n\n                  --Preface to a Reprinted Article from the _Times_, 1851.\n\n\n\n\nMESSRS. SMITHS' BOOKSTALLS.\n\n\nThe following appeared in the _Athenaeum_, 27th Jan., 1849.  \"The new\nbusiness in bookselling which the farming of the line of the\nNorth-Western Railway by Mr. Smith, of the Strand, is likely to open up,\nengages a good deal of attention in literary circles.  This new shop for\nbooks will, it is thought, seriously injure many of the country\nbooksellers, and remove at the same time a portion of the business\ntransacted by London tradesmen.  For instance, a country gentleman\nwishing to purchase a new book will give his order, not as heretofore, to\nthe Lintot or Tonson of his particular district, but to the agent of the\nbookseller on the line of railway--the party most directly in his way.\nInstead of waiting, as he was accustomed to do, till the bookseller of\nhis village or of the nearest town, can get his usual monthly parcel down\nfrom his agent 'in the Row'--he will find his book at the locomotive\nlibrary, and so be enabled to read the last new novel before it is a\nlittle flat or the last new history in the same edition as the resident\nin London.  A London gentleman hurrying from town with little time to\nspare will buy the book he wants at the railway station where he takes\nhis ticket--or perhaps at the next, or third, or fourth, or at the last\nstation (just as the fancy takes him) on his journey.  It is quite\npossible to conceive such a final extension of this principle that the\nretail trade in books may end in a great monopoly:--nay, instead of\nseeing the _imprimatur_ of the Row or of Albermarle Street upon a book,\nthe great recommendation hereafter may be 'Euston Square,' 'Paddington,'\n'The Nine Elms,' or even 'Shoreditch.'  Whatever may be the effect to the\npresent race of booksellers of this change in their business--it is\nprobable that this new mart for books will raise the profits of authors.\nHow many hours are wasted at railway stations by people well to do in the\nworld, with a taste for books but no time to read advertisements or to\ndrop in at a bookseller's to see what is new.  Already it is found that\nthe sale at these places is not confined to cheap or even ephemeral\npublications;--that it is not the novel or light work alone that is asked\nfor and bought.\n\n\"The prophecy of progress contained in the above paragraph has been\nfulfilled so far as the North-Western and Mr. Smith are concerned.  His\nexample, however, was not infectious for other lines; and till within the\nlast three months, when the Great Northern copied the good precedent, and\nentered into a contract with Mr. Smith and his son, the greenest\nliterature in dress and in digestion was all that was offered to the\nwants of travellers by the directors of the South-Western, the Great\nWestern, and other trunk and branch lines with which England is\nintersected.  A traveller in the eastern, western, and southern counties\nwho does not bring his book with him can satisfy his love of reading only\nby the commonest and cheapest trash--for the pretences to the appearance\nof a bookseller's shop made at Waterloo, at Shoreditch, at Paddington,\nand at London Bridge, are something ridiculous.  This should not be.  It\nshows little for the public spirit of the directors of our railways that\nsuch a system should remain.  Mr. Smith has, we believe, as many as\nthirty-five shops at railway stations, extending from London to\nLiverpool, Chester and Edinburgh.  His great stations are at Euston\nSquare, Birmingham, Manchester, Liverpool and Edinburgh.  He has a\nrolling stock of books valued at 10,000 pounds.  We call his stock\nrolling, because he moves his wares with the inclinations of his readers.\nIf he finds a religious feeling on the rise at Bangor, he withdraws\nDickens and sends down Henry of Exeter or Mr. Bennett; if a love for\nlighter reading is on the increase at Rugby, he withdraws Hallam and\nsends down Thackeray and Jerrold.  He never undersells and he gives no\ncredit.  His business is a ready-money one, and he finds it his interest\nto maintain the dignity of literature by resolutely refusing to admit\npernicious publications among his stock.  He can well afford to pay the\nheavy fee he does for his privilege; for his novel speculation has been a\ndecided hit--of solid advantage to himself and of permanent utility to\nthe public.\"\n\n                                             --_Athanaeum_, Sept. 5, 1851.\n\n\n\n\nA RESIDENT ENGINEER AND SCIENTIFIC WITNESS.\n\n\nShortly after the first locomotives were placed on the London and\nBirmingham Railway, a scientific civilian, who had given very positive\nevidence before Parliament as to the injury to health and other\nintolerable evils that must arise from the construction of tunnels, paid\na visit to the line.  The resident engineer accompanied him in a\nfirst-class carriage over the newly-finished portion of the works.  As\nthey drew near Chalk Farm the engineer attracted the attention of his\nvisitor to the lamp at the top of the carriage.  \"I should like to have\nyour opinion on this,\" he said.  \"The matter seems simple, but it\nrequires a deal of thought.  You see it is essential to keep the oil from\ndropping on the passengers.  The cup shape effectually prevents this.\nThen the lamps would not burn.  We had to arrange an up-cast and\ndown-cast chimney, in order to ensure the circulation of air in the lamp.\nThen there was the question of shadow;\"--and so he continued, to the\ngreat edification of his listener, for five or six minutes.  When a\nsatisfactory conclusion as to the lamp had been arrived at, the learned\nman looked out of the window.  \"What place is this?\" said he.  \"Kensal\nGreen.\"  \"But,\" said the other, \"how is that?  I thought there was one of\nyour great tunnels to pass before we came to Kensal Green.\"  \"Oh,\"\nreplied the Resident, carelessly, \"did you not observe?  We came through\nChalk Farm Tunnel very steadily.\"  The man of science felt himself\ncaught.  He made no more reports upon tunnels.\n\n                          --_Personal Recollections of English Engineers_.\n\n\n\n\nEXTRAORDINARY SCENE AT A RAILWAY JUNCTION.\n\n\nA most extraordinary and unprecedented scene occurred on Monday morning\nat the Clifton station, about five miles from Manchester, where the East\nLancashire line forms a junction with the Lancashire and Yorkshire.  The\nEast Lancashire are in the habit of running up-trains to Manchester, past\nthe Clifton junction, without stopping, afterwards making a declaration\nto the Lancashire and Yorkshire Company of the number of passengers the\ntrains contain, and for whom they will have to pay toll.  The Lancashire\nand Yorkshire Company object to this plan, and demand that the trains\nshall stop at Clifton, so that the number of passengers can be counted,\nand give up their tickets.  The East Lancashire Company say that in\naddition to their declaration, the other parties have access to all their\nbooks, and to the returns of their (the East Lancashire Company's)\nservants; and that the demand to take tickets, or to count, is only one\nof annoyance and detention, adopted since the two companies have become\ncompetitors for the traffic to Bradford.  Towards the close of last week,\nthe dispute assumed a serious aspect, by one of the Lancashire and\nYorkshire Company's agents at Manchester (Mr. Blackmore) threatening that\nhe would blockade or stop up the East Lancashire line, at the point of\njunction, with a large balk of timber.  The East Lancashire Company got\nout a summons against Mr. Blackmore on Saturday; but, notwithstanding\nthis, the Lancashire and Yorkshire Company's manager proceeded on Monday\nto carry the threat into execution, despite the presence of a large body\nof the county police.  The East Lancashire early trains were allowed to\npass upon the Lancashire and Yorkshire line without obstruction; but at\nhalf-past 10 o'clock in the morning, as the next East Lancashire train to\nManchester was one which would not stop at Clifton, but attempt to pass\non to Manchester, a number of labourers, under the direction of Captain\nLaws, laid a large balk of timber, secured by two long iron crowbars,\nacross the down rails to Manchester of the Lancashire and Yorkshire line,\nbehind which was brought up a train of six empty carriages, with its\nengine at the Manchester end.  When the East Lancashire train came in\nsight, it was signalled to stop, and the Lancashire and Yorkshire\nCompany's servants went and demanded the tickets from the passengers.\nThis demand, however, was fruitless, inasmuch as the East Lancashire\nparties had taken the tickets from the passengers at the previous\nstation--Ringley.  The first act of the East Lancashire Company's\nservants was to remove the balk of timber, and this they did without\nhindrance.  They next attempted to force before them the Lancashire and\nYorkshire blockading train.  This they were not able to do.  The East\nLancashire Company then brought up a heavy train laden with stone, and\ntook up a position on the top line to Manchester.  Thus the Lancashire\nand Yorkshire Company's double line of rails was completely blocked\nup--one line by their own train, and the other by the stone train of the\nEast Lancashire Company.  In this position matters remained till near 12\no'clock.  There were altogether eight trains on the double lines of rails\nof the two companies, extending more than half a mile.  After which the\nblockade was broken up, and the various trains were allowed to pass\nonwards--fortunately without accident or injury to the passengers.\n\n                                --_Manchester Examiner_, March 13th, 1849.\n\n\n\n\nGOODS' COMPETITION.\n\n\nWithin the last fortnight, we understand, the London and North-Western,\nin conjunction with the Lancashire and Yorkshire, have commenced carrying\ngoods between Liverpool and Manchester, a distance of 31 miles, at the\nruinously low figure of 6d. per ton, where they used to have 8s.  We\nfurther hear that the 6d. includes the expenses of collection and\ndelivery.  The cause is a competition with the East Lancashire and the\ncanal.  At a very low estimate it has been calculated that every ton\ncosts 6s. 3d., so that they are losing 5s. 9d. on every 6d. earned, or\n860 per cent.\n\nHow long this monstrous competition is to continue the directors only\nknow, but the loss must be frightful on both sides.  Chaplin and Horne\nhad 10s. a ton for collecting and delivering the goods at the London end\nof the London and North-Western Railway, and, though the expense must be\nless in such comparatively small towns as Liverpool and Manchester, it\ncan hardly be less than a half that, 5s.  Therefore, allowing only 1s.\n3d. for the bare railway carriage, which is under a halfpenny a ton a\nmile, we have 6s. 3d., the estimate showing the above-mentioned loss of\n5s. 9d. on every 6d. earned.\n\n                                 --_Herepath's Journal_, Sept. 29th, 1849.\n\n\n\n\nA POLITE REQUEST.\n\n\nAn amusing illustration of the formal politeness of a railway guard\noccurred some years ago at the Reigate station.  He went to the window of\na first class carriage, and said: \"If you please, sir, will you have the\ngoodness to change your carriage here?\"  \"What for?\" was the gruff reply\nof Mr. Bull within.  \"Because, sir, if you please, the wheel has been on\nfire since half-way from the last station!\"  John looked out; the wheel\nwas sending forth a cloud of smoke, and without waiting to require any\nfurther \"persuasive influences,\" he lost no time in condescending to\ncomply with the request.\n\n\n\n\nA CHASE AFTER A RUNAWAY ENGINE.\n\n\nMr. Walker, the superintendent of the telegraphs of the South-Eastern\nRailway Company, remarks:--\"On New Year's Day, 1850, a collision had\noccurred to an empty train at Gravesend, and the driver having leaped\nfrom his engine, the latter darted alone at full speed for London.\nNotice was immediately given by telegraph to London and other stations;\nand, while the line was kept clear, an engine and other arrangements were\nprepared as a buttress to receive the runaway, while all connected with\nthe station awaited in awful suspense the expected shock.  The\nsuperintendent of the railway also started down the line on an engine,\nand on passing the runaway he reversed his engine and had it transferred\nat the next crossing to the up-line, so as to be in the rear of the\nfugitive; he then started in chase, and on overtaking the other he ran\ninto it at speed, and the driver of the engine took possession of the\nfugitive, and all danger was at an end.  Twelve stations were passed in\nsafety; it passed Woolwich at fifteen miles an hour; it was within a\ncouple of miles of London when it was arrested.  Had its approach been\nunknown, the money value of the damage it would have caused might have\nequalled the cost of the whole line of telegraph.\"\n\n\n\n\nSTEAM DEFINED.\n\n\nAt a railway station, an old lady said to a very pompous looking\ngentleman, who was talking about steam communication.  \"Pray, sir, what\nis steam?\"  \"Steam, ma'am, is ah!--steam, is ah! ah! steam is--steam!\"\n\"I knew that chap couldn't tell ye,\" said a rough-looking fellow standing\nby; \"but steam is a bucket of water in a tremendous perspiration.\"\n\n\n\n\nIN A RAILWAY TUNNEL.\n\n\nMr. Osborne in the _Sunday at Home_, says, \"I have heard from a friend a\nstrange story of a tunnel, which I will try to tell you as it was told to\nme.  A well-known engineer was walking one day through a tunnel, a narrow\none, and as he was going along, supposing himself safe, he thought his\near caught the far-off rumble of a train _in the tunnel_.  After stopping\nand listening for a moment, he became sure it was so, and that he was\ncaught, and could not possibly get out in time.  What was he to do?\nShould he draw himself up close to the side wall, making himself as small\nas possible, that the train might not touch him.  Or should he lie down\nflat between the rails and let the train pass over him.  Being an\nengineer, and knowing well the shape of things, he decided to lie down\nbetween the rails as his best chance.  He had to make up his mind\nquickly, for in a minute or so the whole train came to where he lay, and\nwent thundering over him, and--did him no harm whatever.  But he\nafterwards told his friends, that in that brief moment of time, while the\ntrain was passing over, he saw his whole past life spread out like a map,\nlike an illuminated transparency, with every particular circumstance\nstanding out plain.\"\n\n\n\n\nA QUICK WAY.\n\n\nSome years ago, when a new railway was opened in the Highlands, a\nHighlander heard of it, and bought a ticket for the first excursion.  The\ntrain was about half the distance to the next station when a collision\ntook place, and poor Donald was thrown unceremoniously into an adjacent\npark.  After recovering his senses, he made the best of his way home,\nwhen the neighbours asked him how he liked his ride.  \"Oh,\" replied\nDonald, \"I liked it fine; but they have an awfu' nasty quick way in\nputtin' ane oot.\"\n\n\n\n\nHIGHLANDER AND A RAILWAY ENGINE.\n\n\nWe remember hearing a story of an old Highland peasant who happened to\nsee a railway engine for the first time.  He was coming down from the\nGrampians into Perthshire, and he thus described the novel monster as it\nappeared in his astounded Celtic imagination:--\"I was looking doon the\nglens, when I saw a funny beast blowing off his perspiration; an' I ran\ndoon, an' I tried to stop him, but he just gave an awfu' skirl an'\ndisappeared into a hole.\"--(meaning, of course, a tunnel).\n\n                                                          --_Once a Week_.\n\n\n\n\nEXTRACTS FROM MACREADY'S DIARIES.\n\n\n\"July 3rd, 1845.--Brewster called to cut my hair; he told me the\ntradesmen could not get paid in London, for all the money was employed in\nrailroads.\"\n\n\"June 19th, 1850.--We were surprised by the entrance of Carlyle and Mrs.\nC--.  I was delighted to see them.  Carlyle inveighed against\nrailroads--he was quite in one of his exceptious moods.\"\n\n\n\n\nFREAKS OF CONCEALED BOGS.\n\n\nGreat difficulties have often been encountered by engineers in carrying\nearth embankments across low grounds, which, under a fair, green surface,\nconcealed the remains of ancient bogs, sometimes of great depth.  Thus,\non the Leeds and Bradford Extension, about 600 tons of stone and earth\nwere daily cast into an embankment near Bingley, and each morning the\nstuff thrown in on the preceding day was found to have disappeared.  This\nwent on for many weeks, the bank, however, gradually advancing, and\nforcing up on either side a spongy black ridge of moss.  On the\nSouth-Western Railway a heavy embankment, about fifty feet high, crossed\na piece of ground near Newham, the surface of which seemed to be\nperfectly sound and firm.  Twenty feet, however, beneath the surface an\nold bog lay concealed; and the ground giving way, the fluid, pressed from\nbeneath the embankment, raised the adjacent meadows in all directions\nlike waves of the sea.  A culvert, which permitted the flow of a brook\nunder the bank, was forced down, the passage of the water entirely\nstopped, and several thousand acres of the finest land in Hampshire would\nhave been flooded but for the exertions of the engineer, who completed a\nnew culvert just as the other had become completely closed.  The\nNewton-green embankment, on the Sheffield and Manchester line, gave way\nin like manner, and to such an extent as to spread out two or three times\nits original width.  In this case it was found necessary to carry the\nline across the parts which yielded, under strong timber shores.  On the\nDundalk and Enniskillen line a heavy embankment twenty feet high suddenly\ndisappeared one night in the bog of Meghernakill, nearly adjoining the\nriver Fane.  The bed of the river was forced up, and the flow of the\nwater for the time was stopped, and the surrounding country heavily\nflooded.  A concealed bog of even greater extent, on the Durham and\nSunderland Railway, near Aycliff, was crossed by means of a\ndouble-planked road, about two miles in length.  A few weeks after the\nline had been opened, part of the road sank one night entirely out of\nsight.  The defect was made good merely by extending the floating surface\nof the road at this portion of the bog.\n\n                                                     --_Quarterly Review_.\n\n\n\n\nA RAILWAY MARRIAGE.\n\n\nIn Maine, a conductor--too busy, we suggest, saying \"Go ahead!\" to be\nparticular about wedding formalities--invited his betrothed and a\nminister into a car, and while the train was in motion was married;\nleaving that station a bachelor, at this station he was a married man!\nIt is but one of a thousand examples of life as it goes in this fast\ncountry.\n\n                                                      --_New York Nation_.\n\n\n\n\nATTEMPTED FRAUDS.\n\n\nFeb. 29, 1849, _Central Criminal Court_.--Robert Duncan, aged 47,\nstaymaker, Mary Duncan, his wife, who surrendered to take her trial, and\nPierce Wall O'Brien, aged 30, printer, were indicted for conspiring\ntogether to obtain money from the London and North-Western Railway\nCompany by false pretences.\n\nFrom the statement of Mr. Clarkson and the evidence, it appeared that the\ncharges made against the prisoners involved a most impudent attempt at\nfraud.  It appears that on the 5th of September last year an accident\noccurred to the up mail train from York, near the Leighton Buzzard\nstation, but, although some injury was occasioned to the train, it seemed\nthat none of the passengers received any personal injury.  On the 26th of\nOctober following, however, the company received a communication from Mr.\nHarrison, requiring compensation on behalf of defendant, Robert Duncan,\nfor an injury alleged to have been sustained by his wife upon the\noccasion of the collision referred to, it being represented, also, that\nher brother, the defendant O'Brien, who was travelling with her at the\ntime from York, had likewise received serious injury by the same\naccident.  The company immediately sent a medical gentleman to the place\ndescribed as the residence of these persons, No. 59, George Street,\nSouthwark, and he there saw the man Robert Duncan, who represented that\nhis wife was dangerously ill, and that the result of the accident on the\nrailway was a premature confinement, and that her life was in danger.\nMr. Porter was then introduced to the female defendant, whom he found in\nbed, apparently in great pain, and she confirmed her husband's statement.\nIn the same house the prisoner O'Brien was found in bed, and he also told\nthe same story about the accident on the railway.  It appeared that some\nsuspicion was entertained by the company of the general character of the\ntransaction, and they had been instituting inquiries.  On the 2nd of\nNovember they received another letter from the prisoner Robert Duncan, in\nwhich he made an offer to accept 60 pounds for the injury his wife had\nreceived, and also stating that Mr. O'Brien was willing to accept a\nsimilar amount for the damage he had sustained.  At this it appeared Mr.\nHarrison resolved not to have anything further to do with the matter,\nunless he received satisfactory proof of the truth of the story told by\nthe parties; and another solicitor was employed by the defendants, who\nbrought an action against the company for damages for the alleged injury,\nand he proceeded so far as to give notice of trial.  The case, however,\nnever went before a jury in that shape, and by this time it was\ndiscovered that there was no truth in the story told by the defendants.\nIt was proved at the period when the accident was alleged to have\noccurred to the female defendant, she was residing with her husband, and\nwas in her usual health.  With regard to O'Brien, there was no evidence\nto show that he was upon the train at the time the accident happened,\nbut, according to the testimony of a witness named Darke, during the\nperiod when the negotiation was going on with the company, O'Brien\nrequested him to write a letter to Mr. Harrison to the effect that he was\nriding in the same carriage with Mrs. Duncan and her brother at the time\nof the accident, and he was aware of her having been injured, and gave\nhim a written statement to that effect, which he copied.  This witness,\nin cross-examination, admitted that at the time he wrote the statement he\nwas perfectly well aware it was false, and he also said that\nnotwithstanding this, he made no difficulty in doing what O'Brien\nrequested, and also that he should have been ready to make a solemn\ndeclaration of the truth of the statement if he had been required to do\nso.\n\nA verdict of \"Not Guilty\" was taken as to the female prisoner, on the\nground that she was acting under the control of her husband.  The jury\nreturned a verdict of \"Guilty\" against the two male defendants.\n\nMr. Clarkson said he was instructed to state that, at the period of the\ncatastrophe on board the Cricket steam-boat, the prisoners obtained a sum\nof 70 pounds from the company to which that vessel belonged, by the false\npretence that they had received injury upon the occasion.\n\nThe Recorder sentenced Duncan to be imprisoned for twelve, and O'Brien\nfor six months.\n\n                                                        _Annual Register_.\n\n\n\n\nA BRIDE'S LOST LUGGAGE.\n\n\nThe trouble which is bestowed by railway companies to cause the\nrestitution of lost property is incalculable.  Some years ago, a young\nlady lost a portmanteau from the rest of her luggage--a pardonable\noversight, for she was a bride starting on a honeymoon trip.  The\nbridegroom--never on such occasions an accountable being--had not noticed\nthe misfortune.  When the loss was discovered, and application made\nrespecting it, the lady spoke positively of having seen it at the station\nwhence they started, then again at a station where they had to change\ncarriages; she saw it also when they left the railway; it was all safe,\nshe averred, at the hotel where they stopped for a few days.  She was\nalso certain that it was among the rest of the \"things\" when they again\nstarted for a watering-place; but, when they arrived there, it was\nmissing.  It contained a new riding habit, value fifteen pounds.  The\nsearch that was instituted for this portmanteau recalled that of\nTelemachus for Ulysses; the railway officials sent one of their clerks\nwith a _carte blanche_ to trace the bride's journey to the end of the\nlast mile, till some tidings of the strayed trunk could be traced.  He\nwent to every station, to every coach-office in connection with every\nstation, to every town, to every hotel, and to every lodging that the\nhappy couple had visited.  His expenses actually amounted to fifteen\npounds.  He came back without success.  At length the treasure was found;\nbut where?  At the by-station on another line, whence the bride had\nstarted from home a maiden.  Yet she had positively declared, without\ndoubt or reservation, that she had, \"with her own eyes,\" seen the trunk\non the various stages of her tour; this can only be accounted for by the\npeculiar flustration of a young lady just plunged into the vortex of\nmatrimony.  The husband paid the whole of the costs.\n\n\n\n\nTHIRD-CLASS PASSENGERS.\n\n\nThe conveyance of passengers at cheap fares was from the commencement of\nrailways a great public concern, and it was soon found necessary that the\nlegislature should take action in the matter.  Accordingly, by the\nRegulation of Railways Act, 1844, all passenger railways were required to\nrun one train every day from end to end of their line, carrying\nthird-class passengers at a rate not exceeding one penny a mile, stopping\nat all stations, starting at hours approved by the Board of Trade,\ntravelling at least twelve miles an hour, and with carriages protected\nfrom weather.  This enactment greatly encouraged the poorer classes in\nrailway travelling; but the companies were slow to carry out the new\nregulations cheerfully.  The trains were timed at most inconvenient\nhours; to undertake a journey of any considerable length in one day at\nthird-class fare was almost out of the question.  In fact, a\nshort-sighted policy of doing almost everything to discourage third-class\ntravelling was adopted by the Companies.\n\nA traveller having started on a long journey, thinking to be able to\ntravel all the way third-class, would find at some stage of the route\nthat he had arrived, only a few minutes perhaps, after the departure of\nthe cheap train to his destination, with no alternative but to wait for\nhours or proceed by the express and pay accordingly.  Moreover, the\nthird-class carriages were provided with the very minimum of comfort.  It\nwas not seen by the railway executive of that time that the policy\nadopted was actually prejudicial to their own interests.\n\n                                        _Our Railways_, by Joseph Parsloe.\n\n\n\n\nIMPROVEMENT IN THIRD-CLASS TRAVELLING.\n\n\nThe Rev. F. S. Williams, in an article in the _Contemporary Review_,\nentitled \"Railway Revolutions,\" remarks:--\"We need not go back so far as\nthe time when third-class passengers had to stand in a sort of cattle-pen\nplaced on wheels; it is only a few years since the Parliamentary trains\nwere run in bare fulfilment of the obligations of Parliament, and when a\njourney by one of them could never be looked upon as anything better than\na necessary evil.  To start in the darkness of a winter's morning to\ncatch the only third-class train that ran; to sit, after a slender\nbreakfast, in a vehicle the windows of which were compounded of the\nlargest amount of wood and the smallest amount of glass, and which were\ncarefully adjusted to exactly those positions in which the fewest\ntravellers could see out of them; to stop at every roadside station,\nhowever insignificant; and to accomplish a journey of 200 miles in about\nten hours--such were the ordinary conditions which Parliament in its\nbounty provided for the people.  Occasionally, moreover, the monotony of\nprogress was interrupted by the shunting of the train into a siding,\nwhere it might wait for more respectable passenger trains and fast goods\nto pass.\"\n\n\"We remember,\" says a writer, \"once standing on the platform at\nDarlington when the Parliamentary train arrived.  It was detained for a\nconsiderable time to allow a more favoured train to pass, and, on the\nremonstrance of several of the passengers at the unexpected detention,\nthey were coolly informed, \"Ye mun bide till yer betters gaw past, ye are\nonly the <DW65> train.\"\n\n\"If there is one part of my public life,\" recently said Mr. Allport\n(Midland Railway) to the writer, \"in which I look back with more\nsatisfaction than anything else, it is with reference to the boon we\nconferred on third-class passengers.  When the rich man travels, or if he\nlies in bed all day, his capital remains undiminished, and perhaps his\nincome flows in all the same.  But when a poor man travels he has not\nonly to pay his fare, but to sink his capital, for his time is his\ncapital; and if he now consumes only five hours instead of ten in making\na journey, he has saved five hours of time for useful labour--useful to\nhimself, to his family, and to society.  And I think with even more\npleasure of the comfort in travelling we have been able to confer upon\nwomen and children.  But it took,\" he added, \"five-and-twenty years' work\nto get it done.\"\n\n\n\n\nA GREAT DISCOVERY.\n\n\nConfound that Pope Gregory who changed the style!  He, or some one else,\nhas robbed the month of February, in ordinary years, of no less than\nthree days, for Mr. George Sutton, the solicitor, has discovered and\nestablished by the last Brighton Act of Parliament that February has\n_really thirty-one days_, while that good-for-nothing Pope led us to\nbelieve it had only twenty-eight.  The language of the 45th clause of the\nAct or of the bill which went into the Lords is:--\n\n\"That so much of the said Consolidation Act as enacts that the ordinary\nmeetings of the company, subsequent to the first ordinary meeting\nthereof, shall be held half-yearly on the 31st day of July, and\n_thirty-first day of February_ in each year, or within one month before\nor after these days shall be, and the same is hereby repealed.\"\n\nThe next clause enacts, we suppose by reason of \"the 31st of February\"\nbeing an inconvenient day, that the meetings shall be held on the 31st of\nJanuary and the 31st of July, a month before or a month after.\n\nOn account of the great value of an addition of three days to our years,\nand, therefore, an annual addition to our lives of three days, we beg to\npropose that a handsome testimonial be given to Mr. George Sutton, the\neminent solicitor of the Brighton Railway Company, the author of the Act\nand the discoverer of the Pope's wicked conduct.  We further propose that\nit be given him on \"the 31st day of February\" next year, and that his\nsalary be paid on that day, and no other, every year.\n\n                                  --_Herepath's Journal_, June 24th, 1854.\n\n\n\n\nA DREADED EVIL.\n\n\nWhen the old Sheffield and Rotherham line was contemplated, \"A hundred\nand twenty inhabitants of Rotherham, headed by their vicar, petitioned\nagainst the bill, because they thought the canal and turnpike furnished\nsufficient accommodation between the two towns, and because they dreaded\nan incursion of the idle, drunken, and dissolute portion of the Sheffield\npeople as a consequence of increasing the facilities of transit.\"  For a\ntime the opposition was successful but eventually the Lord's Committee\nyielded to the perseverance of the promoters of the bill.\n\n                                    _Sheffield and Rotherham Independent_.\n\n\n\n\nREMARKABLE ADVENTURE.\n\n\nA young lady some years ago thus related an adventure she met with in\ntravelling.  \"After I had taken my seat one morning at Paddington, in an\nempty carriage, I was joined, just as the train was moving off, by a\nstrange-looking young man, with remarkably long flowing hair.  He was, of\ncourse, a little hurried, but he seemed besides to be so disturbed and\nwild that I was quite alarmed, for fear of his not being in his right\nmind, nor did his subsequent conduct at all reassure me.  Our train was\nan express, and he inquired eagerly, at once, which was the first station\nwe were advertised to stop.  I consulted my Bradshaw and furnished him\nwith the required information.  It was Reading.  The young man looked at\nhis watch.\n\n\"'Madam,' said he, 'I have but half-an-hour between me and, it may be,\nruin.  Excuse, therefore, my abruptness.  You have, I perceive, a pair of\nscissors in your workbag.  Oblige me, if you please, by cutting off all\nmy hair.'\n\n\"'Sir,' said I, 'it is impossible.'\n\n\"'Madam,' he urged, and a look of severe determination crossed his\nfeatures; 'I am a desperate man.  Beware how you refuse me what I ask.\nCut my hair off--short, close to the roots--immediately; and here is a\nnewspaper to hold the ambrosial curls.'\n\n\"I thought he was mad, of course; and believing that it would be\ndangerous to thwart him, I cut off all his hair to the last lock.\n\n\"'Now, madam,' said he, unlocking a small portmanteau, 'you will further\noblige me by looking out of the window, as I am about to change my\nclothes.'\n\n\"Of course I looked out of the window for a very considerable time, and\nwhen he observed, 'Madam, I need no longer put you to any inconvenience,'\nI did not recognise the young man in the least.\n\n\"Instead of his former rather gay costume, he was attired in black, and\nwore a grey wig and silver spectacles; he looked like a respectable\ndivine of the Church of England, of about sixty-four years of age; to\ncomplete that character, he held a volume of sermons in his hand,\nwhich--they appeared so to absorb him--might have been his own.\n\n\"'I do not wish to threaten you, young lady,' he resumed, 'and I think,\nbesides, that I can trust your kind face.  Will you promise me not to\nreveal this metamorphosis until your journey's end?'\n\n\"'I will,' said I, 'most certainly.'\n\n\"At Reading, the guard and a person in plain clothes looked into our\ncarriage.\n\n\"'You have the ticket, my love,' said the young man, blandly, and looking\nto me as though he were my father.\n\n\"'Never mind, sir; we don't want them,' said the official, as he withdrew\nhis companion.\n\n\"'I shall now leave you, madam,' observed my fellow-traveller, as soon as\nthe coast was clear; 'by your kind and courageous conduct you have saved\nmy life and, perhaps, even your own.'\n\n\"In another minute he was gone, and the train was in motion.  Not till\nthe next morning did I learn from the _Times_ newspaper that the\ngentleman on whom I had operated as hair cutter had committed a forgery\nto an enormous amount, in London, a few hours before I met him, and that\nhe had been tracked into the express train from Paddington; but\nthat--although the telegraph had been put in motion and described him\naccurately--at Reading, when the train was searched, he was nowhere to be\nfound.\"\n\n\n\n\nSAFETY ON THE FLOOR.\n\n\nMany concussions give no warning of their approach, while others do, the\nusual premonitory symptoms being a kind of bouncing or leaping of the\ntrain.  It is well to know that the bottom of the carriage is the safest\nplace, and, therefore, when a person has reason to anticipate a\nconcussion, he should, without hesitation, throw himself on the floor of\nthe carriage.  It was by this means that Lord Guillamore saved his life\nand that of his fellow passengers some years since, when a concussion\ntook place on one of the Irish railways.  His Lordship feeling a shock,\nwhich he knew to be the forerunner of a concussion, without more ado\nsprang upon the two persons sitting opposite to him, and dragged them\nwith him to the bottom of the carriage; the astonished persons at first\nimagined that they had been set upon by a maniac, and commenced\nstruggling for their liberty, but in a few seconds they but too well\nunderstood the nature of the case; the concussion came, and the upper\npart of the carriage in which Lord Guillamore and the other two persons\nwere was shattered to pieces, while the floor was untouched, and thus\nleft them lying in safety; while the other carriages of the train\npresented nothing but a ghastly spectacle of dead and wounded.\n\n                                   --_The Railway Traveller's Handy Book_.\n\n\n\n\nLIFE UPON THE RAILWAY, BY A CONDUCTOR.\n\n\nThe Western Division of our road runs through a very mountainous part of\nVirginia, and the stations are few and far between.  About three miles\nfrom one of these stations, the road runs through a deep gorge of the\nBlue Ridge, and near the centre is a small valley, and there, hemmed in\nby the everlasting hills, stood a small one-and-a-half-story log cabin.\nThe few acres that surrounded it were well cultivated as a garden, and\nupon the fruits thereof lived a widow and her three children, by the name\nof Graff.  They were, indeed, untutored in the cold charities of an\noutside world--I doubt much if they ever saw the sun shine beyond their\nown native hills.  In the summer time the children brought berries to the\nnearest station to sell, and with the money they bought a few of the\nnecessities of the outside refinement.\n\nThe oldest of these children I should judge to be about twelve years, and\nthe youngest about seven.  They were all girls, and looked nice and\nclean, and their healthful appearance and natural delicacy gave them a\nready welcome.  They appeared as if they had been brought up to fear God\nand love their humble home and mother.  I had often stopped my train and\nlet them get off at their home, having found them at the station some\nthree miles from home, after disposing of their berries.\n\nI had children at home, and I knew their little feet would be tired in\nwalking three miles, and therefore felt that it would be the same with\nthese fatherless little ones.  They seemed so pleased to ride, and\nthanked me with such hearty thanks, after letting them off near home.\nThey frequently offered me nice, tempting baskets of fruit for my\nkindness; yet I never accepted any without paying their full value.\n\nNow, if you remember, the winter of '54 was very cold in that part of the\nState, and the snow was nearly three feet deep on the mountains.\n\nOn the night of the 26th of December, of that year, it turned around\nwarm, and the rain fell in torrents.  A terrible storm swept the mountain\ntops, and almost filled the valleys with water.  Upon that night my train\nwas winding its way, at its usual speed, around the hills and through the\nvalleys, and as the road-bed was all solid rock, I had no fear of the\nbanks giving out.  The night was intensely dark, and the winds moaned\npiteously through the deep gorges of the mountains.  Some of my\npassengers were trying to sleep, others were talking in a low voice, to\nrelieve the monotony of the scene.  Mothers had their children upon their\nknees, as if to shield them from some unknown danger without.\n\nIt was near midnight, when a sharp whistle from the engine brought me to\nmy feet.  I knew there was danger by that whistle, and sprang to the\nbrakes at once, but the brakesmen were all at their posts, and soon\nbrought the train to a stop.  I seized my lantern and found my way\nforward as soon as possible, when what a sight met my gaze!  A bright\nfire of pine logs illuminated the track for some distance, and not over\nforty rods ahead of our train a horrible gulf had opened its maw to\nreceive us!\n\nThe snow, together with the rain, had torn the whole side of the mountain\nout, and eternity itself seemed spread out before us.  The widow Graff\nand her children had found it out, and had brought light brush from their\nhome below, and built a large fire to warn us of our danger.  They had\nbeen there more than two hours watching beside that beacon of safety.  As\nI went up where that old lady stood drenched through by the rain and\nsleet, she grasped my arm and cried:\n\n\"Thank God! Mr. Sherbourn, we stopped you in time.  I would have lost my\nlife before one hair of your head should have been hurt.  Oh, I prayed to\nheaven that we might stop the train, and, my God, I thank thee!\"\n\nThe children were crying for joy.  I confess I don't very often pray, but\nI did then and there.  I kneeled down by the side of that good old woman,\nand offered up thanks to an All Wise Being for our safe deliverance from\na most terrible death, and called down blessings without number upon that\ngood old woman and her children.  Near by stood the engineer, fireman,\nand brakesmen, the tears streaming down their bronzed cheeks.\n\nI immediately prevailed upon Mrs. Graff and the children to go back into\nthe cars out of the storm and cold.  After reaching the cars I related\nour hair-breadth escape, and to whom we were indebted for our lives, and\nbegged the men passengers to go forward and see for themselves.  They\nneeded no further urging, and a great many of the ladies went also,\nregardless of the storm.  They soon returned, and their pale faces gave\nfull evidence of the frightful death we had escaped.  The ladies and\ngentlemen vied with each other in their thanks and heartfelt gratitude\ntowards Mrs. Graff and her children, and assured her that they would\nnever, never forget her, and before the widow left the train she was\npresented with a purse of four hundred and sixty dollars, the voluntary\noffering of a whole train of grateful passengers.  She refused the\nproffered gift for some time, and said she had only done her duty, and\nthe knowledge of having done so was all the reward she asked.  However,\nshe finally accepted the money, and said it should go to educate her\nchildren.\n\nThe railway company built her a new house, gave her and her children a\nlife pass over the road, and ordered all trains to stop and let her get\noff at home when she wished, but the employes needed no such orders, they\ncan appreciate all such kindness--more so than the directors themselves.\n\nThe old lady frequently visits my home at H-- and she is at all times a\nwelcome visitor at my fireside.  Two of the children are attending school\nat the same place.\n\n                            --_Appleton's American Railway Anecdote Book_.\n\n\n\n\nA COUNTY COURT JUDGE'S FEELING AGAINST RAILWAYS.\n\n\nIn a County Court case at Carlisle, reported in the _Carlisle Journal_,\nof October 31st, 1851, the judge (J. K. Knowles, Esq.) is represented to\nhave said:--\"You may depend upon it, if I could do anything for you, I\nwould, for I detest all railways.  If they get a verdict in this case it\nwill be the first, and I hope it will be the last.\"\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY TICKETS.\n\n\nA writer in that valuable miscellany _Household Words_, remarks:--\"About\nthirteen years ago, a Quaker was walking in a field in Northumberland,\nwhen a thought struck him.  The man who was walking was named Thomas\nEdmonson.  He had been, though a Friend, not a very successful man in\nlife.  He was a man of integrity and honour, as he afterwards abundantly\nproved, but he had been a bankrupt, and was maintaining himself as a\nclerk at a small station on the Newcastle and Carlisle line.  In the\ncourse of his duties in this situation, he found it irksome to have to\nwrite on every railway ticket that he delivered.  He saw the clumsiness\nof the method of tearing the bit of paper off the printed sheet as it was\nwanted, and filling it up with pen and ink.  He perceived how much time,\ntrouble, and error might be saved by the process being done in a\nmechanical way; and it was when he set his foot down on a particular spot\non the before mentioned field that the idea struck him how all that he\nwished might be done by a machine--how tickets might be printed with the\nnames of stations, the class of carriage, the dates of the month, and all\nof them from end to end of the kingdom, on one uniform system.  Most\ninventors accomplish their great deeds by degrees--one thought suggesting\nanother from time to time; but, when Thomas Edmonson showed his family\nthe spot in the field where his invention occurred to him, he used to say\nthat it came to his mind complete, in its whole scope and all its\ndetails.  Out of it has grown the mighty institution of the Railway\nClearing House; and with it the grand organization by which the Railways\nof the United Kingdom act, in regard to the convenience of individuals,\nas a unity.  We may see at a glance the difference to every one of us of\nthe present organized system--by which we can take our tickets from\nalmost any place to another, and get into a carriage on almost any of our\ngreat lines, to be conveyed without further care to the opposite end of\nthe kingdom--and the unorganized condition of affairs from which Mr.\nEdmonson rescued us, whereby we should have been compelled to shift\nourselves and our luggage from time to time, buying new tickets, waiting\nwhile they were filled up, waiting at almost every point of the journey,\nand having to do it with divers companies who had nothing to do with each\nother but to find fault and be jealous.\n\n\"On Mr. Edmonson's machines may be seen the name of Blaycock; Blaycock\nwas a watchmaker, and an acquaintance of Edmonson's, and a man whom he\nknew to be capable of working out his idea.  He told him what he wanted;\nand Blaycock understood him, and realized his thought.  The third machine\nthat they made was nearly as good as those now in use.  The one we saw\nhad scarcely wanted five shillings worth of repairs in five years; and,\nwhen it needs more, it will be from sheer wearing away of the brass-work,\nby constant hard friction.  The Manchester and Leeds Railway Company were\nthe first to avail themselves of Mr. Edmonson's invention; and they\nsecured his services at their station at Oldham Road, for a time.  He\ntook out a patent; and his invention became so widely known and\nappreciated, that he soon withdrew himself from all other engagements, to\nperfect its details and provide tickets to meet the daily growing demand.\nHe let out his patent on profitable terms--ten shillings per mile per\nannum; that is, a railway of thirty miles long paid him fifteen pounds a\nyear for a license to print its own tickets by his apparatus; and a\nrailway of sixty miles long paid him thirty pounds, and so on.  As his\nprofits began to come in, he began to spend them; and it is not the least\ninteresting part of his history to see how.  It has been told that he was\na bankrupt early in life.  The very first use he made of his money was to\npay every shilling that he ever owed.  Ho was forty-six when he took that\nwalk in the field in Northumberland.  He was fifty-eight when he died, on\nthe twenty-second of June last year.\"\n\n\n\n\nTAKEN ABACK.\n\n\nFour young cavalry officers, travelling by rail, from Boulogne to Paris,\nwere joined at Amiens by a quiet, elderly gentleman, who shortly\nrequested that a little of one window might be opened--a not unreasonable\ndemand, as both were shut, and all four gentlemen were smoking.  But it\nwas refused, and again refused on being preferred a second time, very\ncivilly; whereupon the elderly gentleman put his umbrella through the\nglass.  \"Shall we stand the impertinence of this bourgeois?\" said the\nofficers to one another.  \"Never.\"  And they thrust four cards into his\nhand, which he received methodically, and looked carefully at all four;\nproducing his own, one of which he tendered to each officer with a bow.\nImagine their feelings when they read on each--\"Marshal Randon, Ministre\nde Guerre.\"\n\n\n\n\nFAITHFUL UNTO DEATH.\n\n\nThe engineer of a train near Montreal saw a large dog on the track.  He\nwas barking furiously.  The engineer blew the whistle at him, but he did\nnot stir, and crouching low, he was struck by the locomotive and killed.\nThere was a bit of white muslin on the locomotive, and it attracted the\nattention of the engineer, who stopped the train and went back.  There\nlay the dead dog, and a dead child, which had wandered upon the track and\ngone to sleep.  The dog had given his signal to stop the train, and had\ndied at his post.\n\n\n\n\nNARROW ESCAPES FROM BEING LYNCHED.\n\n\nA writer in _All the Year Round_, observes:--\"A dreadful accident down in\n'Illonoy,' had particularly struck me as a warning; for there, while the\nshattered bodies were still being drawn from under the piles of shivered\ncarriages, the driver on being expostulated with, had replied:\n\n'I suppose this ain't the first railway accident by long chalks!'\n\nUpon which the indignant passengers were with difficulty prevented from\nlynching the wretch; but he fled into the woods, and there for a time\nescaped pursuit.\n\nBut, two other railway journeys pressed more peculiarly on my mind; one\nwas that of eight or ten weeks ago, from Canandaigua to Antrim.  It was\nthere a gentleman from Baltimore, fresh from Chicago, told me of a\nrailway accident he had himself been witness to, only two days before I\nmet him.  The 2.40 (night) train from Toledo to Chicago, in which he\nrode, was upset near Pocahontas by two logs that had evidently been\nwilfully laid across the rails.  On inquiry at the next station, it was\ndiscovered that a farmer who had had, a week before, two stray calves\nkilled near the same place, had been heard at a liquor store to say he\nwould 'pay them out for his calves.'  This was enough for the excited\npassengers, vexed at the detention, and enraged at the malice that had\nexposed them to danger and death.  A posse of them instantly sallied out,\nbeleaguered the farmer's house, seized him after some resistance, put a\nrope round his neck, dragged him to the nearest tree, and would have then\nand there lynched him, had not two or three of the passengers rescued\nhim, revolver in hand, and given him up to the nearest magistrate.\"\n\n\n\n\nCURIOUS NOTICE.\n\n\nThe following notice, for the benefit of English travellers, was\nexhibited some years ago in the carriage of a Dutch railway:--\"You are\nrequested not to put no heads nor arms out of te windows.\"\n\n\n\n\nOBTAINING INFORMATION.\n\n\nBut one of the most difficult things in the world is the levity with\nwhich people talk about \"obtaining information.\"  As if information were\nas easy to pick up as stones!  \"It ain't so hard to nuss the sick,\" said\na hired nurse, \"as some people might think; the most of 'em doesn't want\nnothing, and them as does doesn't get it.\"  Parodying this, one might\nsay, it is much harder to \"obtain information\" than some people think;\nthe most don't know anything, and those who do don't say what they know.\nHere is a real episode from the history of an inquiry, which took place\nfour or five years ago, into the desirability of making a new line of\nrailway on the Border.  A witness was giving what is called \"traffic\nevidence,\" in justification of the alleged need of the railway, and this\nis what occurred:--\n\n_Mr. Brown_ (the cross-examining counsel for the opponents of the new\nline)--Do you mean to tell the committee that you ever saw an inhabited\nhouse in that valley?\n\n_Witness_--Yes I do.\n\n_Mr. Brown_--Did you ever see a vehicle there in your life?\n\n_Witness_--Yes, I did.\n\n_Mr. Brown_--Very good.\n\nSome other questions were put, which led to nothing particular: but, just\nas the witness--a Scotchman--was leaving the box, the learned gentleman\nput one more question:--\n\n_Q_.--I am instructed to ask you, if the vehicle you saw was not the\nhearse of the last inhabitant?\n\n_Answer_--It was.\n\n                                                    --_Cornhill Magazine_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOAT AND THE RAILWAY.\n\n\nIn Prussian Poland the goods and cattle trains are prohibited from\ncarrying passengers under any conditions, and, however urgent their\nnecessities, the only exception allowed being the herd-keepers in charge\nof cattle.  So strictly is this regulation enforced that even medical men\nare not allowed to go by them when called for on an emergency, and where\nlife and death may be the result of their quick transit.  This is\ngenerally considered a great hardship, the more so as there are only two\npassenger trains daily on the above railroads.  But the inventive genius\nof a small German innkeeper at Lissa has hit upon a clever plan of\ncircumventing the government regulations in a perfectly legitimate\nmanner.  He keeps a goat, which he hires out to persons wanting to\nproceed in a hurry by a cattle train, at the rate of 6d. per station, the\npassenger then applying for a ticket as the person in charge of the goat,\nwhich he obtains without any difficulty.  In this manner a well-known\nnobleman, residing at Lissa, is frequently seen travelling by the cattle\ntrain to Posen, in the passenger's carriage, and the goat is so tame that\na very slender silk ribbon suffices to keep it from straying.\n\n\n\n\nTHE FIRST RAILWAY IN THE CRIMEA.\n\n\nDuring the Russian War, in 1854, when the whole country was horror-struck\nwith the report of the sufferings endured by our brave soldiers in the\nCrimea, Mr. Peto, in the most noble and disinterested manner, and at the\ncost of his seat in the House of Commons for Norwich--which city he had\nrepresented for several years--constructed for the Government a line of\nrailway from Balaclava to the English camp before Sebastopol, which at\nthe end of the war, with its various branches, was 37 English miles in\nlength and had 10 locomotives on it.  In recognition of this patriotic\nservice the honour of a baronetcy was, in the following year, conferred\nupon him by Her Majesty.\n\n                                                         --_Old Jonathan_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BALACLAVA RAILWAY.\n\n\nThe following interesting extract from a communication to the _Times_, by\nSir Morton Peto, Bart., respecting the construction of the railway from\nBalaclava to the British camp is worthy of preservation.  Sir Morton\nremarks:--\"It was in the midst of the dreary winter of 1854, when the\nBritish army was suffering unparalleled hardships before Sebastopol, that\nit was resolved to construct a railway from Balaclava to the British\ncamp.  Let honour be given where honour is due.--The idea emanated from\nthe Duke of Newcastle.  His Grace applied to our firm to assist in\ncarrying out the design.  The sympathies of all England were excited at\nthe time by the sufferings of our troops.  Every one was emulous to\ncontribute all that could be contributed to their succour and support.\nThe firm of which I am a partner was anxious to take its share in the\ngood work, and, on the Duke of Newcastle's application, we cheerfully\nundertook to make all the arrangements for carrying his Grace's views\ninto execution, on the understanding that the work should be considered\nNational; and that we should be permitted to execute it without any\ncharge for profit.\n\nWe accordingly placed at the disposal of Her Majesty's Government the\nwhole of our resources.  We fitted out transports with the stores\nnecessary for the construction of the railway; employed and equipped\nhundreds of men to execute the works; provided a commissariat exclusively\nfor their use; engaged medical officers to attend to their health, and\nplaced the whole service under the direction of the most experienced\nagents on our staff.  These important preliminaries were arranged so\neffectually, and with so much despatch, that the Emperor of the French\nsent an agent to this country to instruct himself as to the mode in which\nwe equipped the expedition.\n\nEvery item shipped by us for the works was valued before shipment at its\nselling price; and for all these items of valuation, as well as for the\npayments which we made for labour, we received the certificate of the\nmost eminent engineer of the day (the late lamented Mr. Robert\nStephenson).  We undertook the execution of the Balaclava Railway as a\n'National' work, agreeing to execute it without profit.  We performed our\ncontract to the letter.  We never profited by it to the extent of a\nsingle shilling.\n\nThe works (nearly seven miles of railway) were executed in less than a\nmonth; an incredibly short space of time, considering the season of the\nyear, the severity of the climate, and the difficulties to which,\nconsidering the distance from home, we were all of us exposed.  It is a\nmatter of history that they eventuated in the taking of the great\nfortress of Sebastopol.  Before the railway was made, all the shot, all\nthe shell, and all the ammunition necessary for the siege, had to be\ncarried from Balaclava to the camp, a distance of five miles up hill,\nthrough mud and sludge, upon the backs of the soldiers.  An immense\nproportion of our troops was told off for this most laborious service; of\nwhom no less than 25 per cent per month perished in its execution.  On\nthe day the railway was opened, it carried to the camp of the British\narmy, in 24 hours, more shot and shell than had been brought from\nBalaclava for six weeks previously.\n\nTo our principal agent in the Crimea, the late Mr. Beattie, the greatest\ncredit was due for the way in which the arrangements were made, and the\nwork executed on that side.  Mr. Beattie's labours were so arduous, and\nhis efforts so untiring, that he died of fatigue within six weeks after\nthe completion of the work--a victim, absolutely, to his unparalleled\nexertions.  The only favour in connection with these works which the Duke\nof Newcastle ever granted at our request, he granted to the family of\nthis lamented gentleman.  Mr. Beattie left a widow and four children to\ndeplore his loss, and through the favour of the Duke of Newcastle, the\nwidow, who now resides with her father, an estimable clergyman in the\nNorth of Ireland, enjoys a pension as the widow of a colonel falling in\nthe field.\"\n\n\n\n\nPASSENGERS AND OTHER CATTLE.\n\n\nAt the Eastern Counties meeting (1854) the solicitor cut short a clause\nabout passengers, animals, and cattle, by reading it \"passengers and\nother cattle.\"  We do not recollect passengers having been classed with\ncattle before.  Perhaps the learned gentleman's eyesight was defective,\nor the print was not very clear.\n\n\n\n\nEXPANSION OF RAILS.\n\n\nRobert Routledge, in his article upon railways, remarks:--\"It may easily\nbe seen on looking at a line of rails that they are not laid with the\nends quite touching each other, or, at least, they are not usually in\ncontact.  The reason of this is that space must be allowed for the\nexpansion which takes place when a rise in the temperature occurs.  The\nneglect of this precaution has sometimes led to damage and accidents.  A\ncertain railway was opened in June, and, after an excursion train had in\nthe morning passed over it, the midday heat so expanded the iron that the\nrails became, in some places, elevated to two feet above the level, and\nthe sleepers were torn up; so that in order to admit the return of the\ntrain, the rails had to be fully relaid in a kind of zigzag.  In June,\n1856, a train was thrown off the metals of the North-Eastern Railway, in\nconsequence of the rails rising up through expansion.\"\n\n\n\n\nA SMART REJOINDER.\n\n\nAn American railway employe asked for a pass down to visit his family.\n\"You are in the employ of the railway?\" asked the gentleman applied to.\n\"Yes.\"  \"You receive your pay regularly?\"  \"Yes.\"  \"Well, now, suppose\nyou were working for a farmer, instead of a railway, would you expect\nyour employer to hitch up his team every Saturday night and carry you\nhome?\"  This seemed a poser, but it wasn't.  \"No,\" said the man promptly,\n\"I wouldn't expect that; but if the farmer had his team hitched up and\nwas going my way, I should call him a contemptible fellow if he would not\nlet me ride.\"  Mr. Employe came out three minutes afterwards with a pass\ngood for three months.\n\n\n\n\nCOURTING ON A RAILWAY THIRTY MILES AN HOUR.\n\n\nAn incident occurred on the Little Miami Railway which outstrips, in\npoint of speed and enterprise, although in a somewhat different field,\nthe lightning express, \"fifty-cents-a-mile\" special train achievement\nwhich attended the delivery of the recent famous \"defalcation report\" in\nthis city.  The facts are about thus: A lady, somewhat past that period\nof life which _the world_ would term \"young\"--although she might differ\nfrom them--was on her way to this city, for purposes connected with\nactive industry.  At a point on the road a traveller took the train, who\nhappened to enter the car in which the young lady occupied a seat.  After\nwalking up and down between the seats, the gentleman found no unoccupied\nseat, except the one-half of that upon which the lady had deposited her\nprecious self and crinoline--the latter very modestly expansive.  Making\na virtue of necessity--a \"stand-ee\" berth or a little self-assurance--he\nmodestly inquired if the lady had a fellow-traveller, and took a seat.\n\nAs the train flew along with express speed, the strangers entered into a\ncosy conversation, and mutual explanations.  The gentleman was pleased,\nand the lady certainly did not pout.  After other subjects had been\ndiscussed, and worn thread-bare, the lady made inquiries as to the price\nof a sewing machine, and where such an article could be purchased in this\ncity.  The gentleman ventured the opinion that she had \"better secure a\nhusband first.\"  This opened the way for another branch of conversation,\nand the broken field was industriously cultivated.\n\nBy the time the train arrived at the depot in this city, the gentleman\nhad proposed and been accepted (although the lady afterwards declared she\nregarded it all as a good joke).  The party separated; the gentleman, all\nin good earnest, started for a license, and the lady made her way to a\nboarding-house on Broadway, above Third, for dinner.  At two o'clock the\ngentleman returned with a license and a Justice, to the great\nastonishment of the fair one, and after a few tears and\nhalf-remonstrative expressions, she submitted with becoming modesty, and\nthe Squire performed the little ceremony in a twinkling.  If this is not\na fast country, a search-warrant would hardly succeed in finding one.\n\n                                                --_Cincinnati Commercial_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MERCHANT AND HIS CLERK.\n\n\nA London merchant resided a few miles from the City, in an elegant\nmansion, to and from which he journeyed daily, and invariably by third\nclass.  It happened that one of the clerks in his employ lived in a\ncottage accessible by the same line of railway, but he always travelled\nfirst class; the same train thus presenting the anomaly of the master\nbeing in that place which one would naturally assign to the man, and the\nman appearing to usurp the position of the master.  One day these two\nalighted at the terminus in full view of each other.  \"Well,\" said Mr.\nB--, in that tone of banter which a superior so frequently thinks it\nbecoming to adopt, \"I don't know how you manage to ride first-class, when\nin these hard times I find third-class fare as much as I can afford.\"\n\"Sir,\" replied the clerk, \"you, who are known to be a person of wealth\nand position, may adopt the most economical mode of travelling at no more\nrisk than being thought eccentric, and even with the applause of some for\nyour manifest absence of pride.  But, as for myself, I cannot afford to\nindulge in such irregularities.  Among the persons I travel with I am\nreported to be a well-paid _employe_, and am respected accordingly; to\nmaintain this reputation I am compelled to travel in the same manner as\nthey do, and were I to adopt an inferior mode, it would be attributed to\nsome serious falling off of income; a circumstance which would occasion\nme not only loss of consideration among my _quondam_ fellow-travellers,\nbut one which, upon coming to the ears of my butcher, baker, and grocer,\nmight seriously injure my credit with those highly respectable, but\ncertainly worldly minded tradesmen.\"  Mr. B-- was not slow in recognizing\nthe full force of the argument, more particularly as the question of his\nown liberality was involved, nor did he hesitate to give it a practical\napplication by immediately increasing the salary of his clerk; not only\nto the amount of a first-class season ticket, but something over.\n\n                                   --_The Railway Traveller's Handy Book_.\n\n\n\n\nREMARKABLE WILL.\n\n\nSome years ago an old gentleman of very eccentric habits, Mr. John\nYounghusband, of Abbey Holme, Cumberland, died, and his will has proved\nto be of the most eccentric character.  The Silloth Railway runs through\npart of his property, an arrangement to which he was most passionately\naverse; and though years have elapsed since then, his bitterness was in\nno way assuaged.  In his will he leaves near 1000 pounds to a solicitor\nwho opposed the making of the railway; the rest of his money he bequeaths\nto a comparative stranger upon these conditions--that the legatee never\nspeaks to one of the directors of the railway, that he never travels upon\nit, that he never sends cattle or other traffic by it; and should he\nviolate any of these conditions, the estate reverts to the ordinary\nsuccession.  To Mr. John Irving and the other directors of the Silloth\nline Mr. Younghusband has sarcastically bequeathed a _farthing_.\n\n\n\n\nIMMENSE FRAUD ON THE GREAT-NORTHERN RAILWAY.\n\n\nIn the _Annual Register_ for 1856, November 14th, we read, \"Another fraud\nconnected with the transfer of shares and stock, but on a far grander\nscale, and by a much more pretentious criminal, has been discovered.\n\n\"Of late some strange discrepancies had been observed in the accounts of\nthe Great-Northern Railway Company, and in particular that the amount\npaid for dividends considerably exceeded the rateable proportion to the\ncapital stock.  An investigation was directed.  The registrar of shares,\nMr. Leopold Redpath, expressed a decided opinion that the investigation\ninto his department would be useless, and, on its being pressed,\nabsconded.  The investigation developed a long-continued system of frauds\nof vast amount, to the amount, it was said, of nearly 250,000 pounds.\n\n\"Mr. Leopold Redpath passed in society as a gentleman of ample means,\ngreat taste, and possessed of the Christian virtue of charity in no\ncommon degree.  He had a house in Chester Terrace, handsomely furnished,\nand a \"place\" at Weybridge complete with every luxury that wealth could\nprocure; gave good dinners with excellent wines; kept good horses and\nneat carriages.  He was a governor of Christ's Hospital, the St. Ann's\nSchools, and subscribed freely to the most useful charities of London.\nHis appointment on the Great-Northern was worth 300 pounds per annum; but\nit was supposed that this was only of consequence to Mr. Redpath as\naffording him a regular occupation and an opportunity of operating in the\nshare-market, in which he was known to have extensive dealings.  The\ndirectors of the railway appear to have been perfectly aware that their\nservant was living far beyond his salary, but they considered him to be a\nvery successful speculator.  Upon this splendid bubble being blown up,\nRedpath fled to Paris; but, finding that the French authorities were not\ninclined to protect him, he returned to London and surrendered himself.\n\n\"The mode in which this gigantic swindler had committed his frauds is\nsimple enough.  Having charge of the books in which the stock of the\ncompany is registered, he altered the sum standing in the name of some\n_bona fide_ stockholder to a much larger sum, generally by placing a\nfigure before it, by which simple means 500 became 1,500, or 2,500\npounds, or any larger number of thousands.  The surplus stock thus\n_created_ Redpath sold in the stock-market, forging the name of the\nsupposed transferer, transferring the sum to the account of the supposed\ntransferee in the register, and either attesting it himself, or causing\nit to be attested by a young man, his protege and tool, but who appears\nto have been free from guilty cognizance.  In some instances the fraud\nwas but the more direct course of making a fictitious entry of stock, and\nthen selling it.  By these processes the number of shareholders and the\namount of stock on the company's register became greatly magnified,\nwhile, as the _bona fide_ holders of stock remained credited with their\nproper investments, there was no occasion for suspicion on their part.\nHow Redpath dealt with subsequent transfers of the fictitious stock does\nnot appear.  The prisoner was subjected to repeated examination before\nthe police magistrates, when this prodigious falsification was thoroughly\nsifted, and the prisoner was finally committed for trial at the Central\nCriminal Court in the following year.  It is said that the value of the\nleases, furniture, and articles of taste in Redpath's house in Chester\nTerrace is estimated at 30,000 pounds, and at Weybridge at a still larger\nsum.  It is also said that Redpath and Robson, whose forged transfer of\nCrystal Palace shares has been recorded in this chronicle, were formerly\nfellow clerks.\n\n\"Lionel Redpath was tried, January 16th, 1857, at the Central Criminal\nCourt, and, being found guilty, was sentenced to transportation for life.\nAt the same time a junior clerk in his office, Charles Kent, was also\ncharged as his partner in the crime.  It appeared that Kent had acted on\nmany occasions as attesting witness to the forged transfers which Redpath\nhad employed to carry out his ends; but, as no guilty knowledge on the\npart of the former was shown, he was acquitted.\n\n\"The railway company at first attempted to repudiate the forged stock\nwhich Redpath had put into circulation, but pressing remonstrances, not\nunaccompanied by threats, having been made by the Committee of the Stock\nExchange, they consented to acknowledge it.  Then came the question by\nwhom the loss was to be borne; a question which was not solved until\nafter considerable litigation.  The directors asserted that it ought to\nbe paid out of the current income of the year, and so it was ultimately\ndecided.  This led to a further question between the guaranteed\nshareholders and the rest of the company.  For the diminution of the\nyear's earnings caused by taking up the fictitious stock being so great\nas to render it impossible to satisfy the guaranteed dividends out of the\nresidue, it was contended on the part of the holders of those shares\nthat, by the provisions of the deed of settlement, the deficiency ought\nto be made up out of the next year's profits, so that the guarantee that\nthey should receive their specified dividends was not clogged with the\ncondition in case a sufficient amount of earnings in each year was made\nto pay them.  This dispute led to a Chancery suit, the decree in which\nwas in favour of the holders of the guaranteed shares.\"\n\n\n\n\nA LOST TICKET.\n\n\n\"Now, then, make haste there, will you, an' give up your ticket,\"\nexclaimed a railway guard to a bandsman in the Volunteers returning from\na review.  \"Didna I tell ye I've lost it?\"  \"Nonsense, man; feel in your\npockets, you cannot hae lost it.\"  \"Can I no?\" was the drunken reply;\n\"man, that's naething, I've lost the big drum!\"\n\n\n\n\nMELANCHOLY ACCIDENT.--SINGULAR ACTION.\n\n\nThe _Annual Register_ contains the following interesting case.  July 25,\n1857.--At the Maidstone Assizes an action arising out of a singular and\nmelancholy accident was tried.  The action, Shilling _v._ The Accidental\nInsurance Company, was brought by Charlotte Shilling, widow and\nadministratrix of Thomas Shilling, to recover from the defendants the sum\nof 2000 pounds, upon a policy effected by the deceased on the life of her\nfather-in-law, James Shilling.  The husband of the plaintiff, Thomas\nShilling, carried on the business of a builder at Malling, a short\ndistance from Maidstone.  His father, James Shilling, lived with him; he\nwas nearly 80 years old, and very infirm, and his son used to drive him\nabout occasionally in his pony chaise.  In the month of March, last year,\nan application was made to the defendants to effect two policies for 2000\npounds each upon the lives of Thomas Shilling and James Shilling, and to\nsecure that sum in the event of either of them dying from an accident,\nand the policies were completed and delivered in the following month of\nJune.  On the evening of the 11th of July, 1856, about half-past 7\no'clock, the father and son went from Malling with a pony and chaise, for\nthe purpose of proceeding to a stone quarry at Aylesford, where Thomas\nShilling had business to transact, and they never returned home again\nalive.  There where two roads by which they could have got to the quarry\nfrom Malling, one of which was rather a dangerous one to be taken with a\nvehicle and horse, on account of a steep bank leading to the river Medway\nbeing on one side and the railway passing close to the other; but this\nroute, it appears, was much shorter than the other, which was nearly two\nmiles round, and it was consequently constantly used both by pedestrians\nand carriages.  About 8 o'clock the pony and chaise and the father and\nson were seen on this road, and upon arriving at the gate leading to the\nquarry, Thomas Shilling got out, leaving the pony and chaise in charge of\nhis father.  Mr. Garnham, the owner of the quarry, was not at home, and\nwhile one of the labourers was conversing with Thomas Shilling, the sound\nof an approaching train was heard, and the men advised him to go back to\nhis pony, for fear it should take fright at the train, and he said he\nwould do so, as it had been frightened by a train on a previous occasion.\nHe accordingly went towards the gate where he had left the pony and\nchaise, and from that time there was no evidence to show what took place.\nThe family sat up the whole night awaiting the return of their relatives\nin the utmost possible alarm at their absence; but nothing was heard of\nthem until the following morning, when a bargeman found the drowned pony\nand the chaise and the dead bodies of the father and son floating in the\nMedway, near the spot where the chaise had been last seen on the previous\nevening.  They were taken home, and a coroner's inquest was held, and the\nonly conclusion that could be arrived at was that the pony had taken\nfright at the noise of the train, which appeared to have passed about the\ntime, and that he had jumped into the river, which at this spot was from\n12 to 14 feet deep.\n\nThe policy on the life of the father had been assigned to the son, whose\nwidow claimed the two sums insured from the defendants.  That payable on\nthe death of the son they paid: but they refused to pay that due on the\nfather's policy, and pleaded to the action several pleas, alleging\ncertain violations of the conditions; and singularly enough, considering\nthat they had not disputed the son's policy on the same ground, they now\npleaded that the death was not the result of accident, but arose from\nwanton and voluntary exposure to unnecessary danger.\n\nThe jury found a verdict for the plaintiff.\n\n\n\n\nA CATASTROPHE.\n\n\nAu old lady was going from Brookfield to Stamford, and took a seat in the\ntrain for the first and last time in her life.  During the ride the train\nwas thrown down an embankment.  Crawling from beneath the _debris_\nunhurt, she spied a man sitting down, but with his legs laid down by some\nheavy timber.  \"Is this Stamford?\" she anxiously inquired.  \"No, madam,\"\nwas the reply, \"this is a catastrophe.\"  \"Oh!\" she cried, \"then I hadn't\noughter got off here.\"\n\n\n\n\nWEDDING AT A RAILWAY STATION.\n\n\nBaltimore has had what it calls a romantic wedding at Camden Station.  A\nfew moments before the departure of the outbound Washington train, a\ngentleman accompanied by a lady and another gentleman, whose clerical\nappearance indicated his profession, alighted from a carriage and entered\nthe depot.  Upon the locks of the leader of the party the snows of fifty\nwinters had evidently fallen, while the lady had apparently reached that\nage when she is supposed to have lain aside her matrimonial cap.  Quietly\napproaching the officer on duty within the station, they asked for a room\nwhere a marriage ceremony might be privately performed.  The request was\nreadily granted, and under the leadership of the obliging officer, the\nparty was conducted to the despatch room, a small lobby in the eastern\npart of the building, where in a few minutes the twain were made man and\nwife.  With pleasant smiles, and a would-be-congratulated look upon their\ncountenances, they mingled with the crowd in waiting; and when the gates\nwere thrown open, arm in arm they boarded the train, their\nfellow-passengers all the while ignorant of the interesting ceremony.\n\n                                                    --_Illustrated World_.\n\n\n\n\nENGINE FASCINATION.\n\n\nThe fascination which engines and their human satellites exercise over\nsome minds is very great; and while speaking on the subject, I am\nreminded of a young man who haunted for years one of our chief termini:\nhe was the son of a leading west end confectioner, so that his early\ntraining had in no way disposed him to an engineering life; but he was\nthe most remarkable accumulation of statistics in connection therewith I\nover knew.  The line employed several hundreds of engines, and he not\nonly knew the names of all of them, but when they were made, and who had\nmade them; when each one had last been supplied with a new set of tubes\nat the factory--this last, of course only referred to the engines\nemployed on the main line, which he had an opportunity of seeing, and\nwould miss when they were laid up for repair--and how this had had the\npressure on its safety-valve increased, and this had been diminished.  He\nhad such a retentive memory for these and kindred facts, that I have seen\nthe foreman of the works appeal to him for information, which was never\nlacking.  His penchant was so well known that he had special permission\nfor access to the works.\n\n                                                   --_Chambers's Journal_.\n\n\n\n\nCOMPETITION FOR PASSENGERS.\n\n\nMr. Galt remarks:--\"In the summer of 1857 the London and North-Western\nand Great Northern railways contended with each other for the passenger\ntraffic from London to Manchester.  First-class and second-class\npassengers were conveyed at fares, there and back, of seven and sixpence\nand five shillings respectively, the distance being 400 miles, and four\nclear days were allowed in Manchester.  As might have been expected,\ntrains were well filled, and, but for the fact that the other traffic was\nmuch interfered with, the fares would, it is said, have been\nremunerative.  As it was, it is said the shareholders lost 1 per cent.\ndividend.\n\n\"Another memorable contest was carried on about the year 1853 between the\nCaledonian and the Edinburgh and Glasgow Companies.  The latter suddenly\nreduced the fares between Edinburgh and Glasgow for the three classes\nfrom eight shillings, six shillings, and four shillings, to one shilling,\nninepence, and sixpence.  The contest was continued for\na-year-and-a-half, and cost the Edinburgh and Glasgow Company nearly 1\nper cent. in their dividends.\"\n\n\n\n\nACCIDENT HOAX.\n\n\nThe following impudent hoax, contained in a letter which appeared in the\n_Times_ in 1860, was most annoying to the officials of the Great Northern\nCompany.  It is headed:--\n\n                 \"Accident on the Great Northern Railway.\n                      \"To the Editor of the _Times_.\n\n\"Sir,--I beg to inform you of a serious accident, attended by severe\ninjury, if not loss of life, which occured to-day to the 8 o'clock a.m.\ntrain from Wakefield, on the Great Northern railway, near Doncaster, by\nwhich I was a passenger.  As the train approached Doncaster, about 9\no'clock, the passengers were suddenly alarmed by the vehement oscillation\nof the carriages.  In a few seconds the engine had run off the line,\ndragging the greater part of the train with it across the opposite line\nof rails.  By this time the concussion had become so vehement that the\ngrappling chains connecting the engine, tender, and first carriage with\nthe rest of the train providentially snapped.  This circumstance saved\nthe lives of many.  But the engine, tender, and first carriage were\nhurled over the embankment, all three being together overturned, and the\nlatter (a second-class one) nearly crushed.  The stoker was severely\ninjured on the head, and his recovery is more than doubtful; the engine\ndriver contrived to leap off in time to save himself with a few bruises.\nThe shrieks of the passengers in the overturned carriage (three women and\nfive men) were fearful; and for some time their extrication was\nimpossible.  One middle-aged woman had her thigh broken, another her arm\nfractured.  One old man had one, if not two of his ribs broken.  The\npassengers in the other carriages, in one of which I was travelling, were\nless seriously injured, though sufficiently so to talk about\ncompensation, instead of assisting in earnest those with broken limbs.\nThe line of rails was torn up for a considerable distance.  Owing to the\ntelegraph being out of gear, some delay in communicating with Doncaster\nwas experienced.  A surgeon and various hands at length arrived with a\nspecial train for the injured passengers, who, after long delay, were\nremoved to Doncaster.  I, of course, as a medical man, rendered what\nassistance I could.  Those worst injured were conveyed to the Railway\nArms, the recovery of more than one being doubted by myself.  At length a\nfresh train started from Doncaster, and we reached London nearly two\nhours after due.\n\nThe carelessness of the Company will, I hope, be the subject of your\nseverest animadversion.  The accident was caused by the tire of one of\nthe right wheels of the engine having flown off; and it is clear that the\nengine was not in a condition to ply between the stations of the Great\nNorthern railway.\n\nI have no objection to your use of my name if you think fit to publish\nit.\n\n                                                    Your obedient servant,\n                                    Thomas Waddington, M.D., of Wakefield.\n                                  Morley's Hotel, Charing Cross, March 26.\n\nTo the above letter the following reply was sent to the _Times_.\n\n                 \"Alleged Accident on the Great Northern.\n                      \"To the Editor of the _Times_.\n\n\"Sir,--The Directors of the Great Northern railway will feel much obliged\nby the insertion of the following statement in the _Times_ to-morrow\nrelative to a letter which appeared therein to-day, signed 'Thomas\nWaddington, M.D., of Wakefield,' and headed, 'Accident on the Great\nNorthern railway.'\n\nThere was no accident whatever yesterday on the Great Northern railway.\n\nThe trains all reached King's Cross with punctuality, the most irregular\nin the whole day being only five minutes late.  No such person as Thomas\nWaddington is known at Morley's Hotel, whence the letter in question is\ndated.\n\n                                              I am, Sir, yours faithfully,\n                                           Seymour Clark, General Manager,\n                                                   King's Cross, March 27.\n\nIn the _Times_ on the day following appeared a letter from the real Dr.\nWaddington, of Wakefield, (Edward not \"Thomas\") confirmatory of the\nimpudence of the hoax.\n\n           \"The alleged Accident on the Great Northern railway.\n                      \"To the Editor of the _Times_.\n\n\"Sir,--My attention has been called to a letter in the _Times_ of\nyesterday (signed 'Thomas Waddington, M.D., of Wakefield') the signature\nof which is as gross and impudent a fabrication as the circumstances\nwhich the writer professes to detail.  I need only say there is no 'M.D.'\nhere named Waddington but myself, and that I was not on the Great\nNorthern or any other Railway on the 26th inst, when the accident is\nalleged to have occured.\n\nHaving obtained possession of the original letter, I have handed it to my\nsolicitors, in the hope that they may be enabled to discover and bring to\njustice the perpetrator of this very stupid hoax.\n\n                                         I am, Sir, your obedient servant,\n                                                   Edward Waddington, M.D.\n\n   Wakefield, March 28.\n\n\n\n\nA'PENNY A MILE.\n\n\nTwo costers were looking at a railway time-table.\n\n\"Say, Jem,\" said one of them, \"vot's P.M. mean?\"\n\n\"Vy, penny a mile, to be sure.\"\n\n\"Vell, vot's A.M.?\"\n\n\"A'penny a mile, to be sure.\"\n\n\n\n\nSINGULAR FREAK.\n\n\nIn October, 1857, Mr. Tindal Atkinson applied to Mr. Hammill, at Worship\nStreet Police Court, to obtain a summons under the following strange\ncircumstances:--\n\n\"Mr. Atkinson stated that he was instructed on behalf of the Directors of\nthe Eastern Counties Railway Company to apply to the magistrate under the\nterms of their Act of Incorporation, for a summons against Mr. Henry\nHunt, of Waltham-Cross, Essex, for having unlawfully used and worked a\ncertain locomotive upon a portion of their line, without having\npreviously obtained the permission or approval of the engineers or agents\nof the company, whereby he had rendered himself liable to a penalty of 20\npounds.  He should confine himself to that by stating that in the dark,\non the night of Thursday, the 1st instant, a locomotive engine belonging\nto Mr. Hunt was suddenly discovered by some of the company's servants to\nbe running along the rails in close proximity to one of the regular\npassenger trains on the North Woolwich line.  So great was the danger of\na collision, that they were obliged to instantly stop the train till the\nstranger engine could get out of the way, to the great terror of the\npassengers by the train, and as he was instructed it was almost the\nresult of a merciful interposition of Providence that a collision had not\noccurred between them, in which event it would probably have terminated\nfatally, to a greater or lesser extent.  He now desired that summonses\nmight be granted not only against the owner of the engine so used, but\nalso against the driver and stoker of it, both of whom, it was obvious,\nmust have been well aware of their committing an unlawful act, and of the\nperilous nature of the service in which they were engaged when they were\nrunning an engine at such a time and place.\n\n\"Mr. Hammill said it certainly was a most extraordinary proceeding for\nanyone to adopt, and after the learned gentleman's statement he had no\nhesitation whatever in granting summonses against the whole of the\npersons engaged in it.\"\n\n\n\n\nA.B.C. AND D.E.F.\n\n\nA gentleman travelling in a railway carriage was endeavouring, with\nconsiderable earnestness, to impress some argument upon a\nfellow-traveller who was seated opposite to him, and who appeared rather\ndull of apprehension.  At length, being slightly irritated, he exclaimed\nin a louder tone, \"Why, sir, it's as plain as A.B.C.\"  \"That may be,\"\nquietly replied the other, \"but I am D.E.F.\"\n\n\n\n\nNATIONAL CONTRAST.\n\n\nThe contrast which exists between the character of the French and English\nnavvy may be briefly exemplified by the following trifling anecdote:--\n\n\"In excavating a portion of the first tunnel east of Rouen towards Paris,\na French miner dressed in his blouse, and an English \"navvy\" in his white\nsmock jacket, were suddenly buried alive together by the falling in of\nthe earth behind them.  Notwithstanding the violent commotion which the\nintelligence of the accident excited above ground, Mr. Meek, the English\nengineer who was constructing the work, after having quietly measured the\ndistance from the shaft to the sunken ground, satisfied himself that if\nthe men, at the moment of the accident, were at the head of \"the drift\"\nat which they were working, they would be safe.\n\nAccordingly, getting together as many French and English labourers as he\ncould collect, he instantly commenced sinking a shaft, which was\naccomplished to the depth of 50 feet in the extraordinary short space of\neleven hours, and the men were thus brought up to the surface alive.\n\nThe Frenchman, on reaching the top, suddenly rushing forward, hugged and\nsaluted on both cheeks his friends and acquaintances, many of whom had\nassembled, and then, almost instantly overpowered by conflicting\nfeelings--by the recollection of the endless time he had been imprisoned\nand by the joy of his release--he sat down on a log of timber, and,\nputting both his hands before his face, he began to cry aloud most\nbitterly.\n\nThe English \"navvy\" sat himself down on the very same piece of\ntimber--took his pit-cap off his head--slowly wiped with it the\nperspiration from his hair and face--and then, looking for some seconds\ninto the hole or shaft close beside him through which he had been lifted,\nas if he were calculating the number of cubic yards that had been\nexcavated, he quite coolly, in broad Lancashire dialect, said to the\ncrowd of French and English who were staring at him, as children and\nnursery-maids in our London Zoological Gardens stand gazing\nhalf-terrified at the white bear, \"YAW'VE BEAN A DARMNATION SHORT TOIME\nABAAOWT IT!\"\n\n                                       Sir F. Head's _Stokers and Pokers_.\n\n\n\n\nREMARKABLE ACCIDENT.\n\n\nThe most remarkable railway accident on record happened some years ago on\nthe North-Western road between London and Liverpool.  A gentleman and his\nwife were travelling in a compartment alone, when--the train going at the\nrate of forty miles an hour--an iron rail projecting from a car on a\nside-track cut into the carriage and took the head of the lady clear off,\nand rolled it into the husband's lap.  He subsequently sued the company\nfor damages, and created great surprise in court by giving his age at\nthirty-six years, although his hair was snow white.  It had been turned\nfrom jet black by the horror of that event.\n\n\n\n\nENGINEERING LOAN, OR STAKING OUT A RAILWAY.\n\n\n\"Beau\" Caldwell was a sporting genius of an extremely versatile\ncharacter.  Like all his fraternity, he was possessed of a pliancy of\nadaptation to circumstances that enabled him to succumb with true\nphilosophy to misfortunes, and also to grace the more exalted sphere of\nprosperity with that natural ease attributed to gentlemen with bloated\nbank accounts.\n\nFertile in ingenuity and resources, Beau was rarely at his wit's end for\nthat nest egg of the gambler, a stake.  His providence, when in luck, was\nsuch as to keep him continually on the _qui vive_ for a nucleus to build\nupon.\n\nBeau, having exhausted the pockets and liberality of his contemporaries\nin Charleston, S.C., was constrained to \"pitch his tent\" in fresh\npastures.  He therefore selected Abbeville, whither he was immediately\nexpedited by the agency of a \"free pass.\"\n\nSnugly ensconced in his hotel, Beau ruminated over the means to raise the\n\"plate.\"  The bar-keeper was assailed, but he was discovered to have\nscruples (anomalous barkeeper!)  The landlord was a \"grum wretch,\" with\nno soul for speculation.  The cornered \"sport\" was finally reduced to the\nalternative of \"confidence of operation.\"  Having arranged his scheme, he\nrented him a precious <DW64> boy, and borrowed an old theodolite.  Thus\nequipped, Beau betook himself to the abode of a neighbouring planter,\nnotorious for his wealth, obstinacy, and ignorance.  Operations were\ncommenced by sending the <DW65> into the planter's barn-yard with a\nflagpole.  Beau got himself up into a charming tableau, directly in front\nof the house.  He now roared at the top of his voice,\n\"72,000,000--51--8--11.\"\n\nAfter which he went to driving small stakes, in a very promiscuous\nmanner, about the premises.\n\nThe planter hearing the shouting, and curious to ascertain the cause, put\nhis head out of the window.\n\n\"Now,\" said Beau, again assuming his civil engineering _pose_, \"go to the\nright a little further--there, that'll do.  47,000--92--5.\"\n\n\"What the d---l are you doing in my barn-yard?\" roared the planter.\n\nBeau would not consent to answer this interrogation, but pursuing his\nbusiness, hallooed out to his \"<DW65>\"--\n\n\"Now go to the house, place your pole against the kitchen door,\nhigher--stop at that.  86--45--6.\"\n\n\"I say there,\" again vociferated the planter, \"get out of my yard.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid we will have to go right through the house,\" soliloquized\nBeau.\n\n\"I'm d--d if you do,\" exclaimed the planter.\n\nBeau now looked up for the first time, accosting the planter with a\ncourteous--\n\n\"Good day, sir.\"\n\n\"Good d---l, sir; you are committing a trespass.\"\n\n\"My dear friend,\" replied Beau, \"public duty, imperative--no\ntrespass--surveying railroad--State job--your house in the way.  Must\ntake off one corner, sir,--the kitchen part--least value--leave the\nparlour--delightful room to see the cars rush by twelve times a day--make\nyou accessible to market.\"\n\nBeau, turning to the <DW65>, cried out--\n\n\"Put the pole against the kitchen door again--so, 85.\"\n\n\"I say, stranger,\" interrupted the planter, \"I guess you ain't dined.  As\ndinner's up, suppose you come in, and we'll talk the matter over.\"\n\nBeau, delighted with the proposition, immediately acceded, not having\ntasted cooked provisions that day.\n\n\"Now,\" said the planter, while Beau was paying marked attention to a\nyoung turkey, \"it's mighty inconvenient to have one's homestead smashed\nup, without so much as asking the liberty.  And more than that, if\nthere's law to be had, it shan't be did either.\"\n\n\"Pooh! nonsense, my dear friend,\" replied Beau, \"it's the law that says\nthe railroad must be laid through kitchens.  Why, we have gone through\nseventeen kitchens and eight parlours in the last eight miles--people\ndon't like it, but then it's law, and there's no alternative, except the\nparty persuades the surveyor to move a little to the left, and as curves\ncosts money most folks let it go through the kitchen.\"\n\n\"Cost something, eh?\" said the planter, eagerly catching at the bait\nthrown out for him.  \"Would not mind a trifle.  You see I don't oppose\nthe road, but if you'll turn to the left and it won't be much expense,\nwhy I'll stand it.\"\n\n\"Let me see,\" said Beau, counting his fingers, \"forty and forty is\neighty, and one hundred.  Yes, two hundred dollars will do it.\"\nUnrolling a large map, intersected with lines running in every direction,\nhe continued--\"There is your house, and here's the road.  Air line.  You\nsee to move to the left we must excavate this hill.  As we are desirous\nof retaining the goodwill of parties residing on the route, I'll agree on\nthe part of the company to secure the alteration, and prevent your house\nfrom being molested.\"\n\nThe planter revolved the matter in his mind for a moment and exclaimed:--\n\n\"You'll guarantee the alteration?\"\n\n\"Give a written document.\"\n\n\"Then it's a bargain.\"\n\nThe planter without more delay gave Beau an order on his city factor for\nthe stipulated sum, and received in exchange a written document,\nguaranteeing the freedom of the kitchen from any encroachment by the C.\nL. R. R. Co.\n\nBefore leaving, Beau took the planter on one side and requested him not\nto disclose their bargain until after the railroad was built.\n\n\"You see, it mightn't exactly suit the views of some people--partiality,\nyou know.\"\n\nThe last remark, accompanied by a suggestive wink, was returned by the\nplanter in a similar demonstration of _owlishness_.\n\nBeau resumed his theodolite, drove a few stakes on the hill opposite, and\nproceeded onward in the fulfilment of his duties.  As his light figure\nreceded into obscurity and the distance, the planter caught a sound\nvastly like 40--40--120--200.--And that was the last he ever heard of the\nrailroad.\n\n                              _Appleton's American Railway Anecdote Book_.\n\n\n\n\nMR. FRANK BUCKLAND'S FIRST RAILWAY JOURNEY.\n\n\nMr. Spencer Walpole remarks:--\"Of Mr. Buckland's Christ Church days many\ngood stories are told.  Almost every one has heard of the bear which he\nkept at his rooms, of its misdemeanours, and its rustication.  Less\nfamiliar, perhaps, is the story of his first journey by the Great\nWestern.  The dons, alarmed at the possible consequences of a railway to\nLondon, would not allow Brunel to bring the line nearer than to Didcot.\nDean Buckland in vain protested against the folly of this decision, and\nthe line was kept out of harm's way at Didcot.  But, the very day on\nwhich it was opened, Mr. Frank Buckland, with one or two other\nundergraduates, drove over to Didcot, travelled up to London, and\nreturned in time to fulfil all the regulations of the university.  The\nDean, who was probably not altogether displeased at the joke, told the\nstory to his friends who had prided themselves in keeping the line from\nOxford.  'Here,' he said, 'you have deprived us of the advantage of a\nrailway, and my son has been up to London.'\"\n\n\n\n\nSCENE BEFORE A SUB-COMMITTEE ON STANDING ORDERS.\nPETITIONING AGAINST A RAILWAY BILL, 1846.\n\n\n\"Well, Snooks,\" began the Agent for the Promoters, in cross-examination,\n\"you signed the petition against the Bill--aye?\"\n\n\"Yees, zur.  I zined summit, zur.\"\n\n\"But that petition--did you sign that petition?\"\n\n\"I do'ant nar, zur; I zined zummit, zur.\"\n\n\"But don't you know the contents of the petition?\"\n\n\"The what, zur?\"\n\n\"The contents; what's in it.\"\n\n\"Oa!  Noa, zur.\"\n\n\"You don't know what's in the petition!--Why, ain't you the petitioner\nhimself?\"\n\n\"Noa, zur, I doan't nar that I be, zur.\"\n\n[\"Snooks!  Snooks!  Snooks!\" issued a voice from a stout and\nbenevolent-looking elderly gentleman from behind, \"how can you say so,\nSnooks?  It's your petition.\"  The prompting, however, seemed to produce\nbut little impression upon him for whom it was intended, whatever effect\nit may have had upon the minds of those whose ears it reached, but for\nwhose service it was not intended].\n\n\"Really, Mr. Chairman,\" observed the Agent for the Bill, who appeared to\nhave no idea of _Burking_ the inquiry, \"this is growing interesting.\"\n\n\"The interest is all on your side,\" remarked the Agent for the petition\n(against the Bill).\n\n\"Now, Snooks,\" continued the Agent for the Bill, \"apply your mind to the\nquestions I shall put to you, and let me caution you to reply to them\ntruly and honestly.  Now, tell me--who got you to sign this petition?\"\n\n\"I object to the question,\" interposed the Agent for the petition.  \"The\nmatter altogether is descending into mean, trivial, and unnecessary\ndetails, which I am surprised my friend opposite should attempt to\ntrouble the Committee with.\"\n\n\"I can readily understand, sir,\" replied the other, \"why my friend is so\nanxious to get rid of this inquiry--simple and short as it will be; but I\ntrust, sir, that you will consider it of sufficient importance to allow\nit to proceed.  I purpose to put only a few questions more on this\nextraordinary petition against the Bill (the bare meaning of the name of\nwhich the petitioner does not seem to understand) for the purpose of\neliciting some further information respecting it.\"\n\nThe Committee being thus appealed to by both parties, inclined their\nheads for a few moments in order to facilitate a communication in\nwhispers, and then decided that the inquiry might proceed.  It was\nevident that the matter had excited an interest in the minds and breasts\nof the honourable members of the Committee; created as much perhaps by\nthe extreme mean and poverty-stricken appearance of the witness--a\nmiserable, dirty, and decrepit old man--as by the disclosures he had\nalready made.\n\n\"Well, Snooks, I was about to ask you (when my friend interrupted me) who\ngot you to sign the petition, or that zummit as you call it?\"\n\n\"Some genelmen, zur.\"\n\n\"Who were they--do you know their names?\"\n\n\"Noa, zur, co'ant say I do nar 'em a', zur.\"\n\n\"But do you know any of them, was that gentleman behind you one?\"\n\n[The gentleman referred to was the fine benevolent-looking individual who\nhad previously kindly endeavoured to assist the witness in his answers,\nand who stood the present scrutiny with marked composure and\ncomplaisance].\n\n\"Yees, zur, he war one on 'em.\"\n\n\"Do you know his name?\"\n\n\"Noa, zur, I doant; but he be one of the railway genelmen.\"\n\n\"What did he say to you, when he requested you to sign the petition?\"\n\n\"He said I ware to zine (pointing to the petition) that zummit.\"\n\n\"When and where, pray, did you sign it?\"\n\n\"A lot o' railway genelmen kum to me on Sunday night last; and they wo'\nmake me do it, zur.\"\n\n\"On Sunday night last, aye!\"\n\n\"What, on Sunday night!\" exclaimed one honourable member on the extreme\nright of the Chairman, with horror depicted on his countenance; \"are you\nsure, witness, that it was done in the evening of a Sabbath?\"\n\n\"The honourable member asks you, whether you are certain that you were\ncalled upon by the railway gentlemen to sign the petition on a Sunday\nevening?  I think you told me last Sunday evening.\"\n\n\"Oa, yees, zur; they kum just as we war a garing to chapel.\"\n\n\"Disgraceful, and wrong in the extreme!\" ejaculated the honourable\nmember.\n\n\"And did not that gentleman\" (continued the Agent for the Bill), \"nor any\nof the railway gentlemen, as you call them, when they requested you to\nsign, explain the nature and contents of the petition?\"\n\n\"Noa, zur.\"\n\n\"Then you don't know at this moment what it's for?\"\n\n\"Noa, zur.\"\n\n\"Of course, therefore, it's not your petition as set forth?\"\n\n\"I doant nar, zur.  I zined zummit.\"\n\n\"Now, answer me, do you object to this line of railway?  Have you any\ndislike to it?\"\n\n\"O, noa, zur.  I shud loak to zee it kum.\"\n\n\"Exactly, you should like to see it made.  So you have been led to\npetition against it, though you are favourable to it?\"\n\nThe petitioner against the Bill did not appear to comprehend the precise\ndrift of the remark, and his only reply to the wordy fix into which the\nlearned agent had drawn him was made in the dumb-show of scratching with\nhis one disengaged hand (the other being employed in holding his hat) his\nuncombed head--an operation that created much laughter, which was not\ndamped by the Agent's putting, with a serious face, a concluding question\nor remark to him to the effect that he presumed he (the witness) had not\npaid, or engaged to pay, so many guineas a day to his friend on the other\nside for the prosecution of the opposition against the Bill--had he; yes,\nor no?  The witness's appearance was the only and best answer.\n\nThe petition, of course, upon this _expose_, was withdrawn.\n\nThis, the substance of what actually took place before one of the\nSub-Committees on Standing orders will give some idea of the nature of\nmany of the petitions against Railway Bills, especially on technical\npoints.  It will serve to show in some measure what heartless mockeries\nthese petitions mostly are; the moral evils they give birth to--and that,\neven while complaining of errors, they are themselves made up of\nfalsehood.\n\n\n\n\nAN IDEA ON RAILWAYS.\n\n\nA happy comment on the annihilation of time and space by locomotive\nagency, is as follows:--A little child who rode fifty miles in a railway\ntrain, and then took a coach to her uncle's house, some five miles\nfurther, was asked on her arrival if she came by the cars.  \"We came a\nlittle way in the cars, and all the rest of the way in a carriage.\"\n\n\n\n\nBURNING THE ROAD CLEAR.\n\n\nIt is related of Colonel Thomas A. Scott, that on one occasion, when\nmaking one of his swift trips over the American lines under his control,\nhis train was stopped by the wreck of a goods train.  There was a dozen\nheavily loaded covered trucks piled up on the road, and it would take a\nlong time to get help from the nearest accessible point, and probably\nhours more to get the track cleared by mere force of labour.  He surveyed\nthe difficulty, made a rough calculation of the cost of a total\ndestruction of the freight, and promptly made up his mind to burn the\nroad clear.  By the time the relief train came the flames had done their\nwork and nothing remained but to patch up a few injuries done to the\ntrack so as to enable him to pursue his way.\n\n\n\n\nHARSH TREATMENT OF A MAN OF COLOUR.\n\n\nMy treatment in the use of public conveyances about these times was\nextremely rough, especially on \"The Eastern Railroad,\" from Boston to\nPortland.  On the road, as on many others, there was a mean, dirty, and\nuncomfortable car set apart for  travellers, called the \"Jim\nCrow\" car.  Regarding this as the fruit of slaveholding prejudice, and\nbeing determined to fight the spirit of slavery wherever I might find it,\nI resolved to avoid this car, though it sometimes required some courage\nto do so.  The <DW52> people generally accepted the situation, and\ncomplained of me as making matters worse rather than better, by refusing\nto submit to this proscription.  I, however, persisted, and sometimes was\nsoundly beaten by the conductor and brakeman.  On one occasion, six of\nthese \"fellows of the baser sort,\" under the direction of the conductor,\nset out to eject me from my seat.  As usual, I had purchased a\nfirst-class ticket, and paid the required sum for it, and on the\nrequirement of the conductor to leave, refused to do so, when he called\non these men \"to snake me out.\"  They attempted to obey with an air which\nplainly told me they relished the job.  They, however, found me _much\nattached_ to my seat, and in removing me tore away two or three of the\nsurrounding ones, on which I held with a firm grasp, and did the car no\nservice in some respects.  I was strong and muscular, and the seats were\nnot then so firmly attached or of as solid make as now.  The result was\nthat Stephen A. Chase, superintendent of the road, ordered all passenger\ntrains to pass through Lynn, where I then lived, without stopping.  This\nwas a great inconvenience to the people, large numbers of whom did\nbusiness in Boston, and at other points of the road.  Led on, however, by\nJames N. Buffum, Jonathon Buffum, Christopher Robinson, William Bassett,\nand others, the people of Lynn stood bravely by me, and denounced the\nrailway management in emphatic terms.  Mr. Chase made reply that a\nrailroad corporation was neither a religious nor a reformatory body; and\nthat the road was run for the accommodation of the public; and that it\nrequired the exclusion of the <DW52> people from its cars.  With an air\nof triumph he told us that we ought not to expect a railroad company to\nbe better than the Evangelical Church, and that until the churches\nabolished the \"<DW64> pew,\" we ought not to expect the railroad company to\nabolish the <DW64> car.  This argument was certainly good enough as\nagainst the Church, but good for nothing as against the demands of\njustice and equity.  My old and dear friend, J. N. Buffum, made a point\nagainst the company that they \"often allowed dogs and monkeys to ride in\nfirst-class cars, and yet excluded a man like Frederick Douglass!\"  In a\nvery few years this barbarous practice was put away, and I think there\nhave been no instances of such exclusion during the past thirty years;\nand <DW52> people now, everywhere in New England, ride upon equal terms\nwith other passengers.\n\n                                 --_Life and Times of Frederick Douglass_.\n\n\n\n\nQUITE TOO CLEVER\n\n\nThe elder Dumas was at the railway station, just starting to join his\nyacht at Marseilles.  Several friends had accompanied him, to say\ngood-bye.  Suddenly he was informed that he had a hundred and fifty\nkilogrammes excess of luggage.  \"Ho, ho!\" cried Dumas.  \"How many\nkilogrammes are allowed?\"  \"Thirty for each person,\" was the reply.\nSilently he made a mental calculation, and then in a tone of triumph bade\nhis secretary take places for five.  \"In that way,\" he explained, \"we\nshall have no excess.\"\n\n\n\n\nA DIFFICULTY SOLVED.\n\n\nAmong the improvements that have been carried out at Windsor during the\nautumn, has been an entire alteration in the draining of the Home Park\nabout Frogmore.  New drains have been laid, and the waste earth has been\nused to level the ground.  This portion of the Royal domain was almost\nwild at the beginning of the present reign.  It consisted of fields, with\nlow hedges and deep ditches, and was intersected by a road, on which\nstood several cottages and a public-house.  It was quite an eyesore, and\nPrince Albert was at his wit's end to know how to convert it into a park\nand exclude the public, as before this could be done, it was necessary to\nmake a new road in place of the one it was desired to abolish, and\naltogether a large outlay was inevitable; and even in those days, it was\nout of the question to apply to Parliament for the amount required,\nwhich, I believe, was about 80,000 pounds.\n\nThe difficulty, however, was solved in rather a strange way.  In the\nearly days of railroads they were looked upon as nuisances, and the\nauthorities at Windsor Castle were firmly resolved that no line should\napproach the Royal borough, in which resolution they were warmly\nsupported by the equally stupid and short-sighted managers of Eton\nCollege.  Although the inhabitants sighed for a railway, none was brought\nnearer than Slough.  At this moment, when the park question was being\nagitated, the South Western Directors brought forward a proposition that\nthey should make a line into Windsor, running along one side of the Home\nPark, and right under the Castle.  This audacious idea was regarded with\nindignation at the Castle, until a hint was received that possibly, if\nRoyal interest were forthcoming to support the plan, the Company might be\nable to facilitate the proposed alterations; and it then came out,\nstrangely enough, they had fixed the precise sum needed (80,000 pounds)\nas compensation for the disturbance of the Royal property.  No more was\nheard of the objections to the scheme, which had been so vehemently\ndenounced a few days before, but, no sooner did it transpire that the\nSouth-Western plan was not opposed by the Castle interest than down came\nthe Great-Western authorities in a fever of indignation, for it appeared\nthey had received an explicit promise that, if Windsor was ever\ndesecrated by a railway, they should have the preference.  So resolute\nwas their attitude, that so far as I remember, the sitting of Parliament\nwas actually protracted in order that their Bill might be passed; not\nthat they got it without paying, for they gave 20,000 pounds for an old\nstable and yard which were required for their station, and which happened\nto stand on Crown property.  Things were sometimes managed strangely\nenough in those days.\n\n                                                 --_Truth_, Dec. 29, 1881.\n\n\n\n\nAN EXACTING LADY.\n\n\nA lady of fashion with a pugdog and a husband entered the train at\nPaddington the other day.  There were in the carriage but two persons, a\nwell-known Professor and his wife; yet the lady of fashion coveted, not\nindeed his chair, but his seat.  \"I wish to sit by the window, sir,\" she\nsaid, imperiously, and he had to move accordingly.  \"No, sir, that won't\ndo,\" she said, as he meekly took the next place.  \"I can't have a\nstranger sitting close to me.  My husband must sit where you are.\"\n\n                                                   _Gentleman's Magazine_.\n\n\n\n\nAMERICAN PATIENCE AND IMPERTURBABILITY.\n\n\nAbout an hour after midnight, on our journey from Boston to Albany, we\ncame to a sudden pause where no station was visible; and immediately,\nvery much to my surprise, the engine-driver, conductor, and several\npassengers were seen sallying forth with lanterns, and hastening down the\nembankment on our right.  \"What are they going to do now?\" said I to a\ngentleman, who, like myself, kept his seat.  \"Only to take a look at some\ncars that were smashed this morning,\" was the reply.  On opening the\nwindow to observe the state of affairs, as well as the darkness would\nallow, there, to be sure, at the bottom and along the side of the high\nbank, lay an unhappy train, just as it had been upset.  The locomotive on\nits side was partly buried in the earth; and the cars which had followed\nit in its descent lay in a confused heap behind.  On the top of the bank,\nnear to us, the last car of all stood obliquely on end, with its hind\nwheels in the air in a somewhat grotesque and threatening attitude.  All\nwas now still and silent.  The killed and wounded, if there were any, had\nbeen removed.  No living thing was visible but the errant engineer and\nothers from our train clambering with lanterns in their hands over a\nprostrate wreck, and with heedless levity passing critical remarks on the\ncatastrophe.  Curiosity being satisfied all resumed their places, and the\ntrain moved on without a murmur of complaint as to the unnecessary, and,\nconsidering the hour, very undesirable delay.  I allude to the\ncircumstance, as one of a variety of facts that fell within my\nobservation, illustrative of the singular degree of patience and\nimperturbability with which railway travellers in America submit\nuncomplainingly to all sorts of detentions on their journey.\n\n                    _Things as they are in America_, by W. Chambers, 1853.\n\n\n\n\nA WIDE-AWAKE CONDUCTOR.\n\n\nDana Krum, one of the conductors on the Erie Railway, was approached\nbefore train time by an unknown man, who spoke to him as if he had known\nhim for years.  \"I say, Dana,\" said he, \"I have forgotten my pass, and I\nwant to go to Susquehanna; I am a fireman on the road, you know.\"  But\nthe conductor told him he ought to have a pass with him.  It was the\nsafest way.  Pretty soon, Dana came along to collect tickets.  Seeing his\nman, he spoke when he reached him.  \"Say, my friend, have you got the\ntime with you?\"  \"Yes,\" said he, as he pulled out a watch, \"it is twenty\nminutes past nine.\"  \"Oh, it is, is it?  Now, if you don't show me your\npass or fare, I will stop the train.  There is no railway man that I ever\nsaw who would say 'Twenty minutes past nine.'  He would say,\n'Nine-twenty.'\"  He settled.\n\n\n\n\nA KID-GLOVED SAMSON.\n\n\nA correspondent of the _Chicago Journal_ relates the following feat of\nstrength, to which he was witness:--\n\n\"On Sunday, about nine o'clock A.M., as the train westward was within\nthree or four miles of Chicago, on the Fort Wayne road, a horse was\ndiscovered on the stilt-work between the rails.  The train was stopped,\nand workmen were sent to clear the track.  It was then discovered that\nthe body of the horse was resting on the sleepers.  His legs having\npassed through the open spaces, were too short to reach the ground.\nBoards and rails were brought, and the open space in front of the horse\nfilled up, making a plank road for him in case he should be got up, and\nby means of ropes one of his fore feet was raised, and there matters came\nto a halt.  It seemed that no strength or stratagem could avail to\nrelease the animal.  Levers of boards were splintered, and the men tugged\nat the ropes in vain, when a passenger, who was looking quietly on,\nstepped forward, leisurely slipped off a pair of tinted kids, seized the\nhorse by the tail, and with tremendous force hurled him forward on the\nplank road.  No one assisted, and, indeed, the whole thing was done so\nquickly that assistance was impossible.  The horse walked away looking\nfoolish, and casting suspicious side-glances towards his caudal\nextremity.  The lookers-on laughed and shouted, while the stranger\nresumed his kids, muttering something about the inconvenience of railway\ndelays, lit a cigar, and walked slowly into the smoking car.  He was\nfinely formed, of muscular appearance, was very fashionably dressed, wore\na moustache and whiskers of an auburn or reddish colour, and to all\nquestions as to who he was, only answered that he was a Pennsylvanian\ntravelling westward for his health.  The horse would certainly weigh at\nleast twelve hundred.\"\n\n\n\n\nA RAILWAY TRAIN TURNED INTO A MAN-TRAP.\n\n\nA branch of the Bombay presidency runs through a wild region, the\ninhabitants of which are unsophisticated savages, addicted to thievery.\nThe first day the line was opened a number of these Arcadians conspired\nto intercept the train, and have a glorious loot.  To accomplish their\nobject they placed some trunks of trees across the rails; but the engine\ndriver, keeping a very sharp look out, as it happened to be his first\ntrip on the line in question, descried the trunks while yet they were at\na considerable distance from him.  The breaks were then put on, and when\nthe locomotive had approached within a couple of feet of the trunks it\nwas brought to a standstill.  Then, instantaneously, like Roderick Dhu's\nclansmen starting from the heather, natives, previously invisible,\nswarmed up on all sides, and, crowding into the carriages, began to\npillage and plunder everything they could lay their hands upon.  While\nthey were thus engaged, the guard gave the signal to the driver, who at\nonce reversed his engine and put it to the top of its speed.  The reader\nmay judge of the consternation of the robbers when they found themselves\nwhirled backwards at a pace that rendered escape impossible.  Some poor\nfellows that attempted it were killed on the spot.\n\n                                   --_Central India Times_, June 22, 1867.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RULING OCCUPATION STRONG ON SUNDAY.\n\n\nIn an Episcopal church in the north, not one hundred miles from Keith, a\nporter employed during the week at the railway station, does duty on\nSunday by blowing the bellows of the organ.  The other Sunday, wearied by\nthe long hours of railway attendance, combined, it may be, with the\nsoporific effects of a dull sermon, he fell sound asleep during the\nservice, and so remained when the pealing of the organ was required.  He\nwas suddenly and rather rudely awakened by another official when\napparently dreaming of an approaching train, as he started to his feet\nand roared out, with all the force and shrillness of stentorian lungs and\nhabit, \"Change here for Elgin, Lossiemouth, and Burghead.\"  The effect\nupon the congregation, sitting in expectation of a concord of sweet\nsounds, may be imagined--it is unnecessary to describe it.\n\n                                               --_Dumfries Courier_, 1866.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GOOD THINGS OF RAILWAY ACCIDENTS.\n\n\nWe have always thought that, except to lawyers and railway carriage and\nlocomotive builders, railway accidents were great misfortunes, but it is\nevident we were wrong and we hasten to acknowledge our error.  Speaking\non Thursday with a respectable broker about the heavy damages (2,000\npounds) given the day before on account of the Tottenham accident against\nthe Eastern Counties Company in the Court of Exchequer, he observed, \"It\nis rather good when these things happen as it moves the stock.  I have\nhad an order for some days to buy Eastern Counties at 56 and could not do\nit, but this verdict has sent them down one per cent., and enabled me now\nto buy it.\"  With all our railway experience we never dreamt of such a\nbenefit as this accruing from railway accidents, but it is evidently\namong the possibilities.\n\n                           --_Herepath's Railway Journal_, June 7th, 1860.\n\n\n\n\nBENEFICIAL EFFECT OF A RAILWAY ACCIDENT.\n\n\nA gentleman who was in a railway collision in 1869, wrote to the _Times_\nin November of that year.  After stating that he had been threatened with\na violent attack of rheumatic fever; in fact, he observed, \"my condition\nso alarmed me, and my dread of a sojourn in a Manchester hotel bed for\ntwo or three months was so great, that I resolved to make a bold sortie\nand, well wrapped up, start for London by the 3.30 p.m. Midland fast\ntrain.  From the time of leaving that station to the time of the\ncollision, my heart was going at express speed; my weak body was in a\nprofuse perspiration; flashes of pain announced that the muscular fibres\nwere under the tyrannical control of rheumatism, and I was almost beside\nmyself with toothache.  From the moment of the collision to the present\nhour no ache, pain, sweat, or tremor has troubled me in the slightest\ndegree, and instead of being, as I expected, and indeed intended, in bed\ndrinking _tinct. aurantii_, or absorbing through my pores oil of\nhorse-chestnut, I am conscientiously bound to be at my office bodily\nsound.  Don't print my name and address, or the Midland Company may come\ndown upon me for compensation.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN EARLY MORNING RIDE TO THE RAILWAY STATION.\n\n\nIn the course of his peregrinations, the railway traveller may find\nhimself in some out-of-the-way place, where no regular vehicle can be\nobtained to convey him to the station, and this _contretemps_ is\naggravated when the time of departure happens to be early in the morning.\nCaptain B--, a man of restless energy and adventurous spirit, emerged\nearly one morning from a hovel in a distant village, where from stress of\nweather he had been compelled to pass the night.  It was just dawn of\nday, and within an hour of the train he wished to go by would start from\nthe station, about six miles distant.  He had with him a portmanteau,\nwhich it would be impossible for him to carry within the prescribed time,\nbut which he could not very well leave behind.  Pondering on what he\nshould do, his eye lighted on a likely looking horse grazing in a field\nhard by, while in the next field there was a line extended between two\nposts, for the purpose of drying clothes upon.  The sight of these\nobjects soon suggested the plan for him to adopt.  In an instant he\ndetached the line, and then taking a piece of bread from his pocket,\ncoaxed the animal to approach him.  Captain B-- was an adept in the\nmanagement of horses, and as a rough rider, perhaps, had no equal.  In a\nfew seconds he had, by the aid of a portion of the line, arranged his\nportmanteau pannier-wise across the horse's back, and forming a bridle\nwith the remaining portion of the line, he led his steed into the lane,\nand sprang upon his back.  The horse rather relished the trip than\notherwise, and what with the unaccustomed burden, and the consciousness\nthat he was being steered by a knowing hand, he sped onwards at a\nterrific pace.  While in mid career, one of the mounted police espied the\ncaptain coming along the road at a distance; recognizing the horse, but\nnot knowing the rider, and noticing also the portmanteau, and the uncouth\nequipment, this rural guardian of the peace came to the conclusion that\nthis was a case of robbery and horse stealing; and as the captain neared\nhim, he endeavoured to stop him, and stretched forth his hand to seize\nthe improvised bridle, but the gallant equestrian laughed to scorn the\nimpotent attempt, and shook him off, and shot by him.  Thus foiled, the\npoliceman had nothing to do than to give chase; so turning his horse's\nhead he followed in full cry.  The clatter and shouts of pursuer and\npursued brought forth the inhabitants of the cottages as they passed, and\nmany of these joined in the chase.  Never since Turpin's ride to York, or\nJohnny Gilpin's ride to Edmonton, had there been such a commotion caused\nby an equestrian performance.  To make a long story short, the captain\nreached the station in ample time; an explanation ensued; a handsome\napology was tendered to the patrol, and a present equally handsome was\nforwarded, together with the abstracted property, to the joint owner of\nthe horse and the clothes-line.\n\n\n\n\nCHEAP FARES.\n\n\nIn the year 1868, Mr. Raphael Brandon brought out a book called _Railways\nand the Public_.  In it he proposes that the railways should be purchased\nand worked by the government; and that passengers, like letters, should\ntravel any distance at a fixed charge.  He calculates that a threepenny\nstamp for third-class, a sixpenny stamp for second-class, and a shilling\nstamp for first-class, should take a passenger any distance whether long\nor short.  With the adoption of the scheme, he believes, such an impetus\nwould be given to passenger traffic that the returns would amount to more\nthan double what they are at present.  There may be flaws in Mr.\nBrandon's theory, yet it may be within the bounds of possibility that\nsome great innovator may rise up and do for the travelling public by way\nof organization what Sir Rowland Hill has done for the postage of the\ncountry by the penny stamp.\n\n\n\n\nWHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?\n\n\nThe above question was asked by a man of his friend who had been injured\nin a railway accident, \"I am first going in for repairs, and then for\n_damages_,\" was the answer.\n\n\n\n\nREPROOF FOR SWEARING.\n\n\nThe manager of one of the great Indian railways, in addressing a European\nsubordinate given to indulge in needless strong language, wrote as\nfollows:--\"Dear sir, it is with extreme regret that I have to bring to\nyour notice that I observed very unprofessional conduct on your part this\nmorning when making a trial trip.  I allude to the abusive language you\nused to the drivers and others.  This I consider an unwarrantable\nassumption of my duties and functions, and, I may say, rights and\nprivileges.  Should you wish to abuse any of our employes, I think it\nwill be best in future to do so in regular form, and I beg to point out\nwhat I consider this to be.  You will please to submit to me, in writing,\nthe form of oath you wish to use, when, if it meets my approval, I shall\nat once sanction it; but if not, I shall refer the same to the directors;\nand, in the course of a few weeks, their decision will be known.\nPerhaps, to save time, it might be as well for you to submit a list of\nthe expletives generally in use by you, and I can then at once refer\nthose to which I object to the directors for their decision.  But,\npending that, you will please to understand that all cursing and swearing\nat drivers and others engaged on the traffic arrangements in which you\nmay wish to indulge must be done in writing, and through me.  By adopting\nthis course you will perceive how much responsibility you will save\nyourself, and how very much the business of the company will be\nexpedited, and its interests promoted.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE BULLY RIGHTLY SERVED.\n\n\nIn the _Railway Traveller's Handy Book_, there is an account of an\noccurrence which took place on the Eastern Counties line:--\"A big hulking\nfellow, with bully written on his face, took his seat in a second-class\ncarriage, and forthwith commenced insulting everybody by his words and\ngestures.  He was asked to desist, but only responded with language more\nabusive.  The guard was then appealed to, who told him to mind what he\nwas about, shut the door, and cried 'all right.'  Thus encouraged the\nmiscreant continued his disgraceful conduct, and became every moment more\noutrageous.  In one part of the carriage were four farmers sitting who\nall came from the same neighbourhood, and to whom every part along the\nline was well known.  One of these wrote on a slip of paper these words,\n'Let us souse him in Chuckley Slough.'  This paper was handed from one to\nthe other, and each nodded assent.  Now, Chuckley Slough was a pond near\none of the railway stations, not very deep, but the waters of which were\nblack, muddy, and somewhat repellent to the olfactory nerves.  The\nstation was neared and arrived at; in the meantime the bully's conduct\nbecame worse and worse.  As they emerged from the station, one of the\nfarmers, aforesaid, said to the fellow, 'Now, will you he quiet?'  'No, I\nwon't,' was the answer.  'You won't, won't you?' asked a second farmer.\n'You're determined you won't?' inquired a third.  'You're certain you\nwon't?' asked the fourth.  To all of which queries the response was in\nnegatives, with certain inelegant expletives added thereto.  'Then,' said\nthe four farmers speaking as one man, and rising in a body, 'out you go.'\nSo saying, they seized the giant form of the wretch, who struggled hard\nto escape but to no purpose; they forced him to the window, and while the\ntrain was still travelling at a slow pace, and Chuckley Slough appeared\nto view, they without more ado thrust the huge carcass through the\nwindow, and propelling it forward with some force, landed it exactly in\nthe centre of the black, filthy slough.  The mingled cries and oaths of\nthe man were something fearful to hear; his attempts at extrication and\nincessant slipping still deeper in the mire, something ludicrous to\nwitness; all the passengers watched him with feelings of gratified\nrevenge, and the last that was seen of him was a huge black mass, having\nno traces of humanity about it, crawling up the bank in a state of utter\nprostration.  In this instance the remedy was rather a violent one; but\nless active measures had been found to fail, and there can be little\ndoubt that this man took care ever afterwards not to run the risk of a\nsimilar punishment by indulging in conduct of a like nature.\"\n\n\n\n\nLIABILITY OF COMPANIES FOR DELAY OF TRAINS.\n\n\nThere have been cases where claims have been made and recovered in courts\nof law for loss arising from delay in the arrival of trains, but the law\ndoes not render the company's liability unlimited.  A remarkable case\noccurred not long since.  A Mr. Le Blanche sued the London and\nNorth-Western Company for the cost of a special train to Scarborough,\nwhich he had ordered in consequence of his being brought from Liverpool\nto Leeds, too late for the ordinary train from Leeds to Scarborough.  A\njudgment in the county court was given in favour of the applicant.\n\nThe railway company appealed to the superior court, and the points raised\nwere argued by able counsel, when the decision of the county court judge\nwas confirmed.  The company was determined to put the case to the utmost\npossible test, and on appealing to the Supreme Court of Judicature the\njudgment was reversed, the decision being to the effect that, whilst\nthere was some evidence of wilful delay, the measure of damage was wrong.\n\n                                      --_Our Railways_, by Joseph Parsloe.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DYING ENGINE DRIVER.\n\n\nDoubts have been expressed whether our iron ships will ever be regarded\nin the same affectionate way as \"liners\" used to be regarded by our \"old\nsalts.\"  It has been supposed that the latest creations of science will\nnot nourish sentiment.  The following anecdote shows, however, as\nromantic an attachment to iron as was ever manifested towards wood.  On\nthe Great Western Railway, the broad gauge and the narrow gauge are\nmixed; the former still existing to the delight of travellers by the\n\"Flying Dutchman,\" whatever economical shareholders may have to say to\nthe contrary.  The officials who have been longest on the staff also\ncling to the broad gauge, like faithful royalists to a fast disappearing\ndynasty.  The other day an ancient guard on this line was knocked down\nand run over by an engine; and though good enough medical attendance was\nat hand, had skill been of any use, the dying man wished to see \"the\ncompany's\" doctor.  The gentleman, a man much esteemed by all the\nemployes, was accordingly sent for.  \"I am glad you came to see me start,\ndoctor, (as I hope) by the up-train,\" said the poor man.  \"I am only\nsorry I can do nothing for you, my good fellow,\" answered the other.  \"I\nknow that; it is all over with me.  But there!--I'm glad it was _not one\nof them narrow-gauge engines that did it_!\"\n\n                                                 --_Gentleman's Magazine_.\n\n\n\n\n\"DOWN BRAKES,\" OR FORCE OF HABIT.\n\n\nAn Illinois captain, lately a railroad conductor, was drilling a squad,\nand while marching them by flank, turned to speak to a friend for a\nmoment.  On looking again toward his squad, he saw they were in the act\nof \"butting up\" against a fence.  In his hurry to halt them, he cried,\n\"Down brakes!  Down brakes!\"\n\n\n\n\nTRENT STATION.\n\n\nThis station on the Midland system is often a source of no little\nperplexity to strangers.  Sir Edward Beckett thus humorously describes\nit:--\"You arrive at Trent.  Where that is I cannot tell.  I suppose it is\nsomewhere near the river Trent, but then the Trent is a very long river.\nYou get out of your train to obtain refreshment, and having taken it, you\nendeavour to find your train and your carriage.  But whether it is on\nthis side or that, and whether it is going north or south, this way or\nthat way, you cannot tell.  Bewildered, you frantically rush into your\ncarriage; the train moves off round a curve, and then you are horrified\nto see some lights glaring in front of you, and you are in immediate\nexpectation of a collision, when your fellow-passenger calms your fears\nby telling you that they are only the tail lamps of your own train.\"\n\n\n\n\nSTEEL RAILS.\n\n\nThe first steel rail was made in 1857, by Mushet, at the Ebbw-Vale Iron\nCo.'s works in South Wales.  It was rolled from cast blooms of Bessemer\nsteel and laid down at Derby, England, and remained sixteen years, during\nwhich time 250 trains and at least 250 detached engines and tenders\npassed over it daily.  Taking 312 working days in each year, we have the\ntotal of 1,252,000 trains and 1,252,000 detached engines and tenders\nwhich passed over it from the time it was first laid before it was\nremoved to be worked over.\n\nThe substitution of steel for iron, to an extent rendered possible by the\nBessemer process, has worked a great and abiding change in the condition\nof our ways, giving greater endurance both in respect of wear and in\nresistance to breaking strains and jars.\n\nTwo steel rails of twenty-one feet in length were laid on the 2nd of May,\n1862, at the Chalk Farm Bridge, side by side with two ordinary rails.\nAfter having outlasted sixteen faces of the ordinary rails, the steel\nones were taken up and examined, and it was found that at the expiration\nof three years and three months, the surface was evenly worn to the\nextent of only a little more than a quarter of an inch, and to all\nappearance they were capable of enduring a great deal more work.  The\nresult of this trial was to induce the London and North Western to enter\nvery extensively into the employment of steel rails.\n\n                                       _Knight's Dictionary of Mechanics_.\n\n\n\n\nCURIOUS CASUALTY.\n\n\nOut of three truck loads of cattle on the Great Western Railway two of\nthe animals were struck dead by the lightning on Monday afternoon, July\n5, 1852, not very far from Swindon.  What renders it remarkable is, that\none animal only in each of the two trucks was struck, and five or six\nanimals in each escaped uninjured.  The animal killed in one of the\ntrucks was a bull, the cows escaping injury, and in the other truck it\nwas a bull or an ox that was killed.\n\n\n\n\nGEORGE STEPHENSON'S WEDDING PRESENT.\n\n\nA correspondent, writing to the _Derbyshire Courier_ the week following\nthe Stephenson Centenary celebration at Chesterfield, remarks:--\"The\nother day I met a kindly and venerable gentleman who possesses quite a\nfund of anecdotes relating to the Stephensons, father and son.  It\nappears we have, or had, relations of old George residing in Derby.\nYears ago, says my friend, an old gentleman, who by his appearance and\ncarriage was stamped as a man distinguished among his fellow-men, was\ninquiring on Derby platform for a certain engine-driver in the North\nMidland or the Birmingham and Derby service, whose name he gave.  On the\ndriver being pointed out, the gentleman, with the rough but pleasing\nnorth-country burr in his voice, said, after asking his name, \"Did you\nmarry --?\"  \"Yes, sir.\"  \"Then she's my niece, and I hope you'll make her\na good husband.  I have not had the chance of giving you a wedding\npresent until now.\"  Then slipping into his hand a bank note for 50\npounds, he talked of other matters.  The joy of the engine-driver at\nreceiving so welcome a present was not greater than being recognised and\nkindly received by his wife's illustrious uncle, George Stephenson.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE POLITE IRISHMAN.\n\n\nIt's a small matter, but a gentleman always feels angry at himself after\nhe has given up his seat, in a railway car, to a female who lacks the\ngood manners to acknowledge the favour.  The following \"hint\" to the\nladies will show that a trifle of politeness properly spread on, often\nhas a happy effect.\n\nThe seats were all full, one of which was occupied by a rough-looking\nIrishman; and at one of the stations a couple of evidently well-bred and\nintelligent young ladies came in to procure seats, but seeing no vacant\nones, were about to go into a back car, when Patrick rose hastily, and\noffered them his seat, with evident pleasure.  \"But you will have no seat\nyourself?\" responded one of the young ladies with a smile, hesitating,\nwith true politeness, as to accepting it.  \"Never ye mind _that_!\" said\nthe Hibernian, \"ye'r welcome to 't!  I'd ride upon the cow-catcher till\nNew York, any time, for a smile from such _jintlemanly_ ladies;\" and\nretreated hastily to the next car, amid the cheers of those who had\nwitnessed the affair.\n\n\n\n\nAN ENTERTAINING COMPANION.\n\n\nOnce, during a tour in the Western States, writes Mr. Florence, the\nactor, an incident occurred in which I rather think I played the victim.\nWe were _en route_ from Cleveland to Cincinnati, an eight or ten-hour\njourney.  After seeing my wife comfortably seated, I walked forward to\nthe smoking car, and, taking the only unoccupied place, pulled out my\ncigar case, and offered a cigar to my next neighbour.  He was about sixty\nyears of age, gentlemanly in appearance, and of a somewhat reserved and\nbashful mien.  He gracefully accepted the cigar, and in a few minutes we\nwere engaged in conversation.\n\n\"Are you going far west?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Merely so far as Columbus.\"  (Columbus, I may explain is the capital of\nOhio.)  \"And you, sir?\" he added, interrogatively.\n\n\"I am journeying toward Cincinnati.  I am a theatrical man, and play\nthere to-morrow night.\"  I was a young man then, and fond of avowing my\nprofession.\n\n\"Oh, indeed!  Your face seemed familiar to me as you entered the car.  I\nam confident we have met before.\"\n\n\"I have acted in almost every State in the Union,\" said I.  \"Mrs.\nFlorence and I are pretty generally known throughout the north-west.\"\n\n\"Bless me?\" said the stranger in surprise, \"I have seen you act many\ntimes, sir, and the recollection of Mrs. Florence's 'Yankee Girl,' with\nher quaint songs, is still fresh in my memory.\"\n\n\"Do you propose remaining long in Columbus?\"\n\n\"Yes, for seven years,\" replied my companion.\n\nThus we chatted for an hour or two.  At length my attention was attracted\nto a little, red-faced man, with small sharp eyes, who sat immediately\nopposite us and amused himself by sucking the knob of a large walking\nstick which he carried caressingly in his hand.  He had more than once\nglanced at me in a knowing manner, and now and then gave a sly wink and\nshake of the head at me, as much as to say, \"Ah, old fellow, I know you,\ntoo.\"\n\nThese attentions were so marked that I finally asked my companion if he\nhad noticed them.\n\n\"That poor man acts like a lunatic,\" said I, _sotto voce_.\n\n\"A poor half-witted fellow, possibly,\" replied my fellow-traveller.  \"In\nyour travels through the country, however, Mr. Florence, you must have\noften met such strange characters.\"\n\nWe had now reached Crestline, the dinner station, and, after thanking the\nstranger for the agreeable way in which he had enabled me to pass the\njourney up to this point, I asked him if he would join Mrs. Florence and\nmyself at dinner.  This produced an extraordinary series of grimaces and\nwinks from the red-faced party aforesaid.  The invitation to dinner was\npolitely declined.\n\nThe repast over, our train sped on toward Cincinnati.  I told my wife\nthat in the smoking car I had met a most entertaining gentleman, who was\nwell posted in theatricals, and was on his way to Columbus.  She\nsuggested that I should bring him into our car, and present him to her.\nI returned to the smoking car and proposed that the gentleman should\naccompany me to see Mrs. Florence.  The proposal made the red-faced man\nundergo a species of spasmodic convulsions which set the occupants of the\ncar into roars of laughter.\n\n\"No, I thank you,\" said my friend, \"I feel obliged to you for the\ncourtesy, but I prefer the smoking car.  Have you another cigar?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said I, producing another Partaga.\n\nI again sat by his side, and once more our conversation began, and we\nwere quite fraternal.  We talked about theatres and theatricals, and then\nadverted to political economy, the state of the country, finance and\ncommerce in turn, our intimacy evidently affording intense amusement to\nthe foxy-faced party near us.\n\nFinally the shrill sound of the whistle and the entrance of the conductor\nindicated that we had arrived at Columbus, and the train soon arrived at\nthe station.\n\n\"Come,\" said the red-faced individual, now rising from his seat and\ntapping my companion on the shoulder, \"This is your station, old man.\"\n\nMy friend rose with some difficulty, dragging his hitherto concealed feet\nfrom under the seat, when, for the first time, I discovered that he was\nshackled, and was a prisoner in charge of the Sheriff, going for seven\nyears to the state prison at Columbus.\n\n\n\n\nNOVEL ATTACK.\n\n\nAuxerre, November 15th, 1851.--Last week, at the moment when a railway\ntender was passing along the line from Saint Florentin to Tonnerre, a\nwolf boldly leaped upon it and attacked the stoker.  The man immediately\nseized his shovel and repulsed the aggressor, who fell upon the rail and\nwas instantly crushed to pieces.\n\n                                                             --_National_.\n\n\n\n\nWOLVES ON A RAILWAY.\n\n\nIn 1867, \"A cattle train on the Luxemburg Railway was stopped,\" says the\n_Nord_, \"two nights back, between Libramont and Poix by the snow.  The\nbrakesman was sent forward for aid to clear the line, and while the\nguard, fireman, engine-driver, and a customs officer were engaged in\ngetting the snow from under the engine they were alarmed by wolves, of\nwhich there were five, and which were attracted, no doubt, by the scent\nof the oxen and sheep cooped up in railed-in carriages.  The men had no\nweapons save the fire utensils belonging to the engine.  The wolves\nremained in a semicircle a few yards distant, looking keenly on.  The\nengine-driver let off the steam and blew the whistle, and lanterns were\nwaved to and fro, but the savage brutes did not move.  The men then made\ntheir way, followed by the wolves, to the guard's carriage.  Three got in\nsafe; whilst the fourth was on the step one of the animals sprang on him,\nbut succeeded only in tearing his coat.  They all then made an attack,\nbut were beaten off, one being killed by a blow on the head.  Two hours\nelapsed before assistance arrived, and during that time the wolves made\nseveral attacks upon the sheep trucks, but failed to get in.  None of the\ncattle were injured.\"\n\n\n\n\nARTEMUS WARD'S SUGGESTION.\n\n\n\"I was once,\" he remarks, \"on a slow California train, and I went to the\nconductor and suggested that the cowketcher was on the wrong end of the\ntrain; for I said, 'You will never overtake a cow, you know; but if you'd\nput it on the other end it might be useful, for now there's nothin' on\nearth to hinder a cow from walkin' right in and bitin' the folks!\"\n\n\n\n\nCOACH VERSUS RAILWAY ACCIDENTS.\n\n\nA coachman once remarked, \"Why you see, sir, if a coach goes over and\nspills you in the road there you are; but if you are blown up by an\nengine, where are you?\"\n\n\n\n\nBAVARIAN GUARDS AND BAVARIAN BEER.\n\n\n\"In England,\" says Mr. Wilberforce, \"the guard is content to be the\nservant of the train; in Germany he is in command of the passengers.\n'When is the train going on?' asked an Englishman once of a foreign\nguard.  'Whenever I choose,' was the answer.  To judge from the delays\nthe trains make at some of the stations, one would suppose that the guard\nhad uncontrolled power of causing stoppages.  You see him chatting with\nthe station-master for several minutes after all the carriages have been\nshut up, and at last, when the topics of conversation are exhausted, he\ngives a condescending whistle to the engine-driver.  Time seems never to\nbe considered by either guards or passengers.  Bavarians always go to the\nstation half-an-hour before the train is due, and their indifference to\ndelay is so well known that the directors can put on their time book 'As\nthe time of departure from small stations cannot be guaranteed, the\ntravellers must be there twenty-five minutes beforehand.'\"  Mr.\nWilberforce should not have omitted to mention the main cause of these\ndelays, which appears at the same time to constitute the final cause of a\nBavarian's existence--Beer.  Guards and passengers alike require\nalcoholic refreshment at least at every other station.  At Culmbach, the\nfountain of the choicest variety of Bavarian beer, the practice had risen\nto such a head that, as we found last summer, government had been forced\nto interfere.  To prevent trains from dallying if there was beer to drink\nat Culmbach was obviously impossible.  The temptation itself was removed;\nand no beer was any longer allowed to be sold at that fated railway\nstation, by reason of its being so superlatively excellent.\n\n                                                --_Saturday Review_, 1864.\n\n\n\n\nTHE RAILWAY SWITCH-TENDER AND HIS CHILD.\n\n\nOn one of the railroads in Prussia, a few years ago, a switch-tender was\njust taking his place, in order to turn a coming train approaching in a\ncontrary direction.  Just at this moment, on turning his head, he\ndiscerned his little son playing on the track of the advancing engine.\nWhat could he do?  Thought was quick at such a moment of peril!  He might\nspring to his child and rescue him, but he could not do this and turn the\nswitch in time, and for want of that hundreds of lives might be lost.\nAlthough in sore trouble, he could not neglect his greater duty, but\nexclaiming with a loud voice to his son, \"Lie down,\" he laid hold of the\nswitch, and saw the train safely turned on to its proper track.  His boy,\naccustomed to obedience, did as his father commanded him, and the fearful\nheavy train thundered over him.  Little did the passengers dream, as they\nfound themselves quietly resting on that turnout, what terrible anguish\ntheir approach had that day caused to one noble heart.  The father rushed\nto where his boy lay, fearful lest he should find only a mangled corpse,\nbut to his great joy and thankful gratitude he found him alive and\nunharmed.  Prompt obedience had saved him.  Had he paused to argue, to\nreason whether it were best--death, and fearful mutilation of body, would\nhave resulted.  The circumstances connected with this event were made\nknown to the King of Prussia, who the next day sent for the man and\npresented him with a medal of honour for his heroism.\n\n\n\n\nVERY COOL.\n\n\nSome years ago at a railway station a gentleman actually followed a\nperson with a portmanteau, which he thought to be his, but the fellow,\nunabashed, maintaining it to be his own property, the gentleman returned\nto inquire after his, and found, when too late, that his first suspicions\nwere correct.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BLACK REDSTART.\n\n\nA railway carriage had been left for some weeks out of use in the station\nat Giessen, Hesse Darmstadt, in the month of May, 1852, and when the\nsuperintendent came to examine the carriage he found that a black\nredstart had built her nest upon the collision spring; he very humanely\nretained the carriage in its shed until its use was imperatively\ndemanded, and at last attached it to the train which ran to\nFrankfort-on-the-Maine, a distance of nearly forty miles.  It remained at\nFrankfort for thirty-six hours, and was then brought back to Giessen, and\nafter one or two short journeys came back again to rest at Giessen, after\na period of four days.  The young birds were by this time partly fledged,\nand finding that the parent bird had not deserted her offspring, the\nsuperintendent carefully removed the nest to a place of safety, whither\nthe parent soon followed.  The young were, in process of time, full\nfledged and left the nest to shift for themselves.  It is evident that\none at least of the parent birds must have accompanied the nest in all\nits journeys, for, putting aside the difficulty which must have been\nexperienced by the parents in watching for every carriage that arrived at\nGiessen, the nestlings would have perished from hunger during their stay\nat Frankfort, for everyone who has reared young birds is perfectly aware\nthat they need food every two hours.  Moreover, the guard of the train\nrepeatedly saw a red-tailed bird flying about that part of the carriage\non which the nest was placed.\n\n\n\n\nSTOPPING A RUNAWAY COUPLE.\n\n\nCaptain Galton who some years ago was the government railway inspector,\nin one of his reports relates the following singular circumstance.  \"A\ngirl who was in love with the engine-driver of a train, had engaged to\nrun away from her father's house in order to be married.  She arranged to\nleave by a train this man was driving.  Her father and brother got\nintelligence of her intended escape; and having missed catching her as\nshe got into the train, they contrived, whether with or without the\nassistance of a porter is not very clear, to turn the train through\nfacing points, as it left the station, into a bog.\"  The captain does not\npursue the subject further in his report, so that we are left in\nignorance as to the success of the plan for stopping a contemplated\nrunaway marriage.\n\n\n\n\nA MADMAN IN A RAILWAY CARRIAGE.\n\n\nWe subjoin from the _Annual Register_ for 1864 an account of an alarming\noccurrence which took place July 4th of that year:--\"In one of the\nthird-class compartments of the express train leaving King's Cross\nStation at 9.15 p.m., a tall and strongly-built man, dressed as a sailor,\nand having a wild and haggard look, took his seat about three minutes\nbefore the train started.  He was accompanied to the carriage by a woman,\nwhom he afterwards referred to as his wife, and by a man, apparently a\ncab-driver, of both of whom he took leave when the train was about to\nstart.  It had scarcely done so, when, on putting his hand to his pocket,\nhe called out that he had been robbed of his purse, containing 17 pounds,\nand at once began to shout and gesticulate in a manner which greatly\nalarmed his fellow-travellers, four in number, in the same compartment.\nHe continued to roar and swear with increasing violence for some time,\nand then made an attempt to throw himself out of the window.  He threw\nhis arms and part of his body out of the window, and had just succeeded\nin placing one of his legs out, when the other occupants of the carriage,\nwho had been endeavouring to keep him back, succeeded in dragging him\nfrom the window.  Being foiled in this attempt, he turned round upon\nthose who had been instrumental in keeping him back.  After a long and\nsevere struggle, which--notwithstanding the speed the train was running\nat--was heard in the adjoining compartments, the sailor was overcome by\nthe united exertions of the party, and was held down in a prostrate\nposition by two of their number.  Though thus secured, he still continued\nto struggle and shout vehemently, and it was not till some time\nafterwards, when they managed to bind his hands and strap him to the\nseat, that the passengers in the compartment felt themselves secure.\nThis train, it may be explained, makes the journey from London to\nPeterborough, a distance little short of eighty miles, without a single\nstoppage; and as the scene we have been describing began immediately\nafter the train left London, the expectation of having to pass the time\nusually occupied between the two stations (one hour and fifty minutes)\nwith such a companion must have been far from agreeable.  While the\nstruggle was going on, and even for some time afterwards, almost frantic\nattempts were made to get the train stopped.  The attention of those in\nthe adjoining compartment was readily gained by waving handkerchiefs out\nof the window, and by-and-by a full explanation of the circumstances was\ncommunicated through the aperture in which the lamp that lights both\ncompartments is placed.  A request to communicate with the guard was made\nfrom one carriage to another for a short distance, but it was found\nimpossible to continue it, and so the occupants of the compartments\nbeyond the one nearest the scene of the disturbance could learn nothing\nas to its nature, a vague feeling of alarm seized them, and all the way\nalong to Peterborough a succession of shouts of 'Stop the train,' mixed\nwith the frantic screams of female passengers, was kept up.  On the\narrival of the train at Peterborough the man was released by his captors\nand placed on the platform.  No sooner was he there, however, than he\nrushed with a renewed outburst of fury on those who had taken the chief\npart in restraining his violence, and as he kept vociferating that they\nhad robbed him of his money, it was some time before the railway\nofficials could be got to interfere--indeed, it seemed likely for some\ntime that he would be allowed to go on in the train.  As remonstrances\nwere made from all quarters to the station-master to take the fellow into\ncustody, he at length agreed, after being furnished with the names and\naddresses of the other occupants of the carriage, to hand him over to the\npolice.  The general impression on those who witnessed the sailor's fury\nseemed to be that he was labouring under a violent attack of delirium\ntremens, and he had every appearance of having been drinking hard for\nsome days.  Had there been only one or even two occupants of the\ncompartment besides himself, there seems every reason to believe that a\nmuch more deadly struggle would have ensued, as he displayed immense\nstrength.\"\n\n\n\n\nINSURED.\n\n\nThe engine of an ordinary railway train broke down midway between two\nstations.  As an express train was momentarily expected to arrive at the\nspot, the passengers were urgently called upon to get out of the\ncarriages.  A countryman in leather breeches and top-boots, who sat in a\ncorner of one of the carriages, comfortably swathed in a travelling\nblanket, obstinately refused to budge.  In vain the porter begged him to\ncome out, saying the express would reach the spot in a minute, and the\ntrain would in all probability be dashed to pieces.  The traveller pulled\nan insurance ticket out of his breeches pocket, exclaiming, \"Don't you\nsee I've insured my life?\" and with that he set up a horse laugh, and\nsunk back into his corner.  They had to force him out of the train, and\nan instant afterwards the express ran into it.\n\n\n\n\nA NEW TRICK.\n\n\nA novel illustration of the ingenuity of thieves has been afforded by an\nincident reported from the continent.  For some time past a North German\nrailway company had been suffering from the repeated loss of goods which\nwere sent by luggage train, and which, notwithstanding all research and\nprecautions, continued to disappear in a very mysterious manner.  The\nsecret which the inquiries set on foot had failed to discover was at\nlength revealed by a rather amusing accident.  A long box, on one side of\nwhich were words equivalent to \"This side up,\" had, in disregard of this\ncaution, been set up on end in the goods shed.  Some time afterwards the\nemployes were not a little startled to hear a voice, apparently\nproceeding from the box in question, begging the hearers to let the\nspeaker out.  On opening the lid, the railway officials were surprised\nand amused to find a man inside standing on his head.  In the explanation\nwhich followed, the fellow wanted to account for his appearance under\nsuch unusual circumstances as due to the result of a wager, but he was\ngiven into custody, and it was soon found that the thieves had adopted\nthis method of conveying themselves on to the railway premises, and that\nduring the absence of the employes they had let themselves out of the box\nwhich they at once filled with any articles they could lay their hands\non, refastened the lid, and then decamped.  But for the unfortunate\ninability of human nature to endure an inverted position for an\nindefinite period, the ingenious authors of the scheme might have\nflourished a long time without detection.\n\n\n\n\nA TRAIN STOPPED BY CATERPILLARS.\n\n\n_Colonies and India_ quotes from a New Zealand paper the following\nstory:--In the neighbourhood of Turakina an army of caterpillars,\nhundreds of thousands strong, was marching across the railway line, bound\nfor a new field of oats, when the train came along.  Thousands of the\ncreeping vermin were crushed by the wheels of the engine, and suddenly\nthe train came to a dead stop.  On examination it was found that the\nwheels of the engine had become so greasy that they kept on revolving\nwithout advancing--they could not grip the rails.  The guard and the\nengine driver procured sand and strewed it on the rails, and the train\nmade a fresh start, but it was found that during the stoppage\ncaterpillars in thousands had crawled all over the engine, and all over\nthe carriages inside and out.\n\n\n\n\nTRAVELLING IN RUSSIA.\n\n\nOf course, travelling in Russia is no longer what it was.  During the\nlast quarter of a century a vast network of railways has been constructed\nand one can now travel in a comfortable first-class carriage from Berlin\nto St. Petersburg or Moscow, and thence to Odessa, Sebastopol, the Lower\nVolga, or even the foot of the Caucasus; and, on the whole, it must be\nadmitted that the railways are tolerably comfortable.  The carriages are\ndecidedly better than in England, and in winter they are kept warm by\nsmall iron stoves, such as we sometimes see in steamers, assisted by\ndouble windows and double doors--a very necessary precaution in a land\nwhere the thermometer often descends to 30 degrees below zero.  The\ntrains never attain, it is true, a high rate of speed--so at least\nEnglish and Americans think--but then we must remember that Russians are\nrarely in a hurry, and like to have frequent opportunities of eating and\ndrinking.  In Russia time is not money; if it were, nearly all the\nsubjects of the Tsar would always have a large stock of ready money on\nhand, and would often have great difficulty in spending it.  In reality,\nbe it parenthetically remarked, a Russian with a superabundance of ready\nmoney is a phenomenon rarely met with in real life.\n\nIn conveying passengers at the rate of from fifteen to thirty miles an\nhour, the railway companies do at least all that they promise, but in one\nvery important respect they do not always strictly fulfil their\nengagements.  The traveller takes a ticket for a certain town, and on\narriving at what he imagines to be his destination, he may merely find a\nrailway station surrounded by fields.  On making inquiries he finds to\nhis disappointment, that the station is by no means identical with the\ntown bearing the same name, and that the railway has fallen several miles\nshort of fulfilling the bargain, as he understood the terms of the\ncontract.  Indeed, it might almost be said as a general rule railways in\nRussia, like camel drivers in certain Eastern countries, studiously avoid\nthe towns.  This seems at first a strange fact.  It is possible to\nconceive that the Bedouin is so enamoured of tent life and nomadic\nhabits, that he shuns a town as he would a man-trap; but surely civil\nengineers and railway contractors have no such dread of brick and mortar.\nThe true reason, I suspect, is that land within or immediately without\nthe municipal barrier is relatively dear, and that the railways, being\ncompletely beyond the invigorating influence of healthy competition, can\nafford to look upon the comfort and convenience of passengers as a\nsecondary consideration.\n\nIt is but fair to state that in one celebrated instance neither engineers\nnor railway contractors were to blame.  From St. Petersburg to Moscow the\nlocomotive runs for a distance of 400 miles, almost as \"the crow\" is\nsupposed to fly, turning neither to the right hand nor to the left.  For\nfifteen weary hours the passenger in the express train looks out on\nforest and morass and rarely catches sight of human habitation.  Only\nonce he perceives in the distance what may be called a town; it is Tver\nwhich has been thus favoured, not because it is a place of importance,\nbut simply because it happened to be near the straight line.  And why was\nthe railway constructed in this extraordinary fashion?  For the best of\nall reasons--because the Tsar so ordered it.  When the preliminary survey\nwas being made, Nicholas learned that the officers intrusted with the\ntask--and the Minister of Ways and Roads in the number--were being\ninfluenced more by personal than by technical considerations, and he\ndetermined to cut the Gordian knot in true Imperial style.  When the\nMinister laid before him the map with the intention of explaining the\nproposed route, he took a ruler, drew a straight line from the one\nterminus to the other, and remarked in a tone that precluded all\ndiscussion, \"You will construct the line so!\"  And the line was so\nconstructed--remaining to all future ages, like St. Petersburg and the\nPyramids, a magnificent monument of autocratic power.\n\nFormerly this well-known incident was often cited in whispered philippics\nto illustrate the evils of the autocratic form of government.  Imperial\nwhims, it was said, override grave economic considerations.  In recent\nyears, however, a change seems to have taken place in public opinion, and\nsome people now venture to assert that this so-called Imperial whim was\nan act of far-seeing policy.  As by far the greater part of the goods and\npassengers are carried the whole length of the line, it is well that the\nline should be as short as possible, and that branch lines should be\nconstructed to the towns lying to the right and left.  Apart from\npolitical considerations, it must be admitted that a great deal may be\nsaid in support of this view.\n\nIn the development of the railway system there has been another\ndisturbing cause, which is not likely to occur to the English mind.  In\nEngland, individuals and companies habitually act according to their\nprivate interests, and the State interferes as little as possible;\nprivate initiative acts as it pleases, unless the authorities can prove\nthat important bad consequences will necessarily result.  In Russia, the\n_onus probandi_ lies on the other side; private initiative is allowed to\ndo nothing until it gives guarantees against all possible bad\nconsequences.  When any great enterprise is projected, the first question\nis--\"How will this new scheme affect the interests of the State?\"  Thus,\nwhen the course of a new railway has to be determined, the military\nauthorities are always consulted, and their opinion has a great influence\non the ultimate decision.  The consequence of this is that the railway\nmap of Russia presents to the eye of the tactician much that is quite\nunintelligible to the ordinary observer--a fact that will become apparent\nto the uninitiated as soon as a war breaks out in Eastern Europe.  Russia\nis no longer what she was in the days of the Crimean war, when troops and\nstores had to be conveyed hundreds of miles by the most primitive means\nof transport.  At that time she had only about 750 miles of railway; now\nshe has more than 11,000 miles, and every year new lines are constructed.\n\n                                          _Russia_, by D. M. Wallace, M.A.\n\n\n\n\nAN ARMY WITH BANNERS.\n\n\nAs giving an idea of the old way of signalling and precautions employed\nto ensure safety on the Hudson River Railroad nearly forty years ago, we\nappend the following from the _Albany Journal_.  It should be premised\nthat this road extends from New York to East Albany, a distance of only\n144 miles:--\n\n\"AN ARMY WITH BANNERS.--As you are whirled along over the Hudson River\nRailroad at the rate of 40 miles an hour, you catch a glimpse, every\nminute or two, of a man waving something like a white pocket handkerchief\non the end of a stick, with a satisfactory sort of expression of\ncountenance.  If you take the trouble to count, you will find that it\nhappens some two hundred times between East Albany and Thirty-first\nstreet.  It looks like rather a useless ceremony, at first glance, but is\na pretty important one, nevertheless.\n\n\"There are 225 of these 'flagmen' stationed at intervals along the whole\nlength of the line.  Just before a train is to pass, each one walks over\nhis \"beat,\" and looks to see that every track and tie, every tunnel,\nswitch, rail, clamp, and rivet, is in good order and free from\nobstruction.  If so, he takes his stand with a white flag and waves it to\nthe approaching train as a signal to 'come on'--and come on it does, at\nfull speed.  If there is anything wrong, he waves a red flag, or at night\na red lamp, and the engineer, on seeing it, promptly shuts off the steam,\nand sounds the whistle to 'put down the brakes.'  Every inch of the road\nis carefully examined after the passage of each train.  Austrian\nespionage is hardly more strict.\"\n\n\n\n\nSEIZURE OF A RAILWAY TRAIN FOR DEBT.\n\n\nThe financial difficulties under which some railway companies have\nrecently laboured were brought to a crisis lately in the case of the\nPotteries, Shrewsbury, and North Wales Railway, a line running from\nLlanymynech to Shrewsbury, with a projected continuation to the\nPotteries.  A debenture holder having obtained a judgment against the\ncompany, a writ was forthwith issued, and a few days back the sheriff's\nofficers unexpectedly presented themselves at the company's principal\nstation in Shrewsbury, and formally entered upon possession.  The down\ntrain immediately after entered the station, and the bailiffs, without\nhaving given any previous intimation to the manager, whose office adjoins\nthe station, seized the engines and carriages, and refused to permit the\noutgoing train to start, although many passengers had taken tickets.\nUltimately the manager obtained the requisite permission, and it was\narranged that the train should make the journey, one of the bailiffs\nmeanwhile remaining in charge.  The acting-sheriff refused a similar\nconcession with regard to the further running of the trains, and it being\nfair day at Shrewsbury, and a large number of persons from various\nstations along the line having taken return tickets, much inconvenience\nto the public was likely to ensue.  The North Wales section of this line\nwas completed in August last at a cost of a little over 1,100,000 pounds,\nand was opened for passenger and goods traffic on the 13th of that month.\nAs has already been stated, the ordinary traffic of the line was, after\nthe enforcement of the writ, permitted to be continued, with the proviso\nthat a bailiff should accompany each train.  This condition was naturally\nvery galling to the officials of the railway company, but they\nnevertheless treated the representative of the civil law with a marked\npoliteness.  On the night of his first becoming a constant passenger by\nthe line he rode in a first-class carriage to Llanymynech, and on the\nreturn journey the attentive guard conducted him to a similar compartment\nwhich was devoted to his sole occupation.  On arriving at Kennerly the\nbailiff became conscious of the progress of an elaborate process of\nshunting, followed by an entire stoppage of the train.  After sitting\npatiently for some minutes it occurred to him to put his head out of the\nwindow and inquire the reason for the delay, and in carrying out the idea\nhe discovered that the train of which his carriage had lately formed a\npart was vanishing from sight round a distant curve in the line.  He lost\nno time in getting out and making his way into the station, which he\nfound locked up, according to custom, after the passage through of the\nlast down train.  Kennerly is a small roadside station about 12 miles\nfrom Shrewsbury, and offers no accommodation for chance guests; and, had\nit been otherwise, it was of course the first duty of the bailiff to look\nafter the train, of which he at that moment was supposed to be in\n\"possession.\"  There being no alternative, he started on foot for\nShrewsbury, where he arrived shortly after midnight, having accomplished\na perilous passage along the line.  It appeared, on inquiry, that in the\ncourse of the shunting the coupling-chain which connected the tail coach\nwith the body of the train had by some means become unlinked; hence the\naccident.  The bailiff accepted the explanation, but on subsequent\njourneys he carefully avoided the tail-coach.\n\n                                                     _Railway News_, 1866.\n\n\n\n\nA KANGAROO ATTACKING A TRAIN.\n\n\nThe latest marsupial freak is thus given by a thoroughly reliable\ncorrespondent of the _Courier_ (an Australian paper):--A rather exciting\nrace took place between the train and a large kangaroo on Wednesday night\nlast.  When about nine miles from Dalby a special surprised the kangaroo,\nwho was inside the fences.  The animal ran for some distance in front,\nbut getting exhausted he suddenly turned to face his opponent, and jumped\nsavagely at the stoker on the engine, who, not being able to run, gamely\nfaced the \"old man\" with a handful of coal.  The kangaroo, however, only\nreached the side of the tender, when, the step striking him, he was\n\"knocked clean out of it\" in the one round.  No harm happened beyond a\nbit of a scare to the stoker, as the kangaroo picked himself up quickly\nand cleared the fence.\n\n\n\n\nSHE TAKES FITS.\n\n\nSome time ago, an old lady and gentleman were coming from Devenport when\nthe train was crowded.  A young man got up and gave the old lady a seat,\nwhile his companion, another young gent, remained stedfast and let the\nold gent stand.  This did not suit the old gentleman, so he concluded to\nget a seat in some way, and quickly turning to the young man on the seat\nbeside his wife, he said:--\"Will you be so kind as to watch that woman\nwhile I get a seat in another carriage?  She takes fits!\"  This startled\nthe young gent.  He could not bear the idea of taking charge of a fitty\nwoman, so the old gentleman got a seat, and his wife was never known to\ntake a fit afterwards.\n\n\n\n\nSNAGS' CORNERS.\n\n\nThe officials of a Michigan railroad that was being extended were waited\nupon the other day by a person from the pine woods and sand hills who\nannounced himself as Mr. Snags, and who wanted to know if it could be\npossible that the proposed line was not to come any nearer than three\nmiles to the hamlet named in his honour.\n\n\"Is Snags' Corners a place of much importance?\" asked the President.\n\n\"Is it?  Well, I should say it was!  We made over a ton of maple sugar\nthere last spring!\"\n\n\"Does business flourish there?\"\n\n\"Flourish!  Why, business is on the gallop there every minute in the\nwhole twenty-four hours.  We had three false alarms of fire there in one\nweek.  How's that for a town which is to be left three miles off your\nrailroad?\"\n\nBeing asked to give the names of the business houses, he scratched his\nhead for awhile, and then replied--\n\n\"Well, there's me, to start on.  I run a big store, own eight yokes of\noxen, and shall soon have a dam and a sawmill.  Then there's a blacksmith\nshop, a post-office, a doctor, and last week over a dozen patent-right\nmen passed through there.  In one brief year we've increased from a\nsquatter and two dogs to our present standing, and we'll have a lawyer\nthere before long.\"\n\n\"I'm afraid we won't be able to come any nearer the Corners than the\npresent survey,\" finally remarked the President.\n\n\"You won't!  It can't be possible that you mean to skip a growing place\nlike Snags' Corners!\"\n\n\"I think we'll have to.\"\n\n\"Wouldn't come if I'd clear you out a place in the store for a ticket\noffice?\"\n\n\"I don't see how we could.\"\n\n\"May be I'd subscribe 25 dols.,\" continued the delegate.\n\n\"No, we cannot change.\"\n\n\"Can't do it nohow?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Mr. Snags as he put on his hat.  \"If this 'ere railroad\nthinks it can stunt or <DW36> Snags' Corners by leaving it out in the\ncold it has made a big mistake.  Before I leave town to-day I'm going to\nbuy a windmill and a melodeon, and your old locomotives may toot and be\nhanged, sir--toot and be hanged!\"\n\n\n\n\nA NEWSPAPER WONDER.\n\n\nThe _Railway Journal_, an American newspaper, containing the latest\nintelligence with respect to home and foreign politics, the money market,\nCongress debates, and theatrical events, is now printed and published\ndaily in the trains running between New York and San Francisco.  All the\nnews with which its columns are filled is telegraphed from different\nparts of the States to certain stations on the line, there collected by\nthe editorial staff travelling in the train, and set up, printed, and\ncirculated among the subscribing passengers while the iron horse is\npersistently traversing plains and valleys, crossing rivers, and\nascending mountain ranges.  Every morning the traveller may have his\nnewspaper served up with his coffee, and thus keep himself informed of\nall that is going on in the wide world during a seven days' journey\ncovering over three thousand miles of ground.  He who pays his\nsubscription at New York, which he can do at the railway ticket-office,\nreceives the last copy of his paper on the summit of the Sierra Nevada.\nThe production of a news-sheet from a flying printing office at an\nelevation of some ten thousand feet above the level of the sea is most\nassuredly a performance worthy of conspicuous record in journalistic\nannals, and highly creditable to American enterprise.\n\n\n\n\nMONETARY DIFFICULTIES IN SPAIN.\n\n\nSir Arthur Helps, in his life of Mr. Brassey, remarks:--\"There were few,\nif any, of the great undertakings in which Mr. Brassey embarked that gave\nhim so much trouble in respect of the financial arrangements as the\nSpanish railway from Bilbao to Tudela.  The secretary, Mr. Tapp, thus\nrecounts the difficulties which they had to encounter:--\n\n\"'The great difficulty in Spain was in getting money to pay the men for\ndoing the work--a very great difficulty.  The bank was not in the habit\nof having large cheques drawn upon it to pay money; for nearly all the\nmerchants kept their cash in safes in their offices, and it was a very\ndebased kind of money, coins composed of half copper and half silver, and\nvery much defaced.  You had to take a good many of them on faith.  I had\nto send down fifteen days before the pay day came round, to commence\ngetting the money from the bank, obtaining perhaps 2,000 or 3,000 pounds\na day.  It was brought to the office, recounted, and put into my safe.\nIn that way I accumulated a ton-and-a-half of money every month during\nour busy season.  When pay week came, I used to send a carriage or a\nlarge coach, drawn by four or six mules, with a couple of civil guards,\none on each side, together with one of the clerks from the office, a man\nto drive, and another--a sort of stableman--who went to help them out of\ntheir difficulty in case the mules gave any trouble up the hilly country.\nI was at the office at six o'clock, and I was always in a state of\nanxiety until I knew that the money had arrived safely at the end of the\njourney.  More than once the conveyance broke down in the mountains.  On\none occasion the axle of our carriage broke in half from the weight of\nthe money, and I had to send off two omnibuses to relieve them.  I had\nthe load divided, and sent one to one section of the line and one to the\nother.\n\n\"'Q.--Was any attempt made to rob the carriage?\n\n\"'A.--Never; we always sent a clerk armed with a revolver as the\nprincipal guard.  We heard once of a conspiracy to rob us; but, to avoid\nthat, we went by another road.  We were told that some men had been seen\nloitering about the mountain the night before.'\"\n\n\n\n\nA CARLIST CHIEF AS A SUB-CONTRACTOR.\n\n\nThe natural financial difficulties of constructing a railway in Spain\nwere added to by the strange kind of people Mr. Brassey's agents were\nobliged to employ.  One of the sub-contractors was a certain Carlist\nchief whom the government dared not arrest on account of his great\ninfluence.  Mr. Tapp thus relates the Carlist chief's mode of settling a\nfinancial dispute:--\n\n\"When he got into difficulties, Mr. Small, the district agent, offered\nhim the amount which was due to him according to his measured work.  He\nhad over 100 men to pay, and Mr. Small offered him the money that was\ncoming to him, according to the measurement, but he would not have it,\nnor would he let the agent pay the men.  He said he would have the money\nhe demanded; and he brought all his men into the town of Orduna, and the\nmen regularly bivouacked round Mr. Small's office.  They slept in the\nstreets and stayed there all night, and would not let Mr. Small come out\nof the office till he had paid them the money.  He attempted to get on\nhis horse to go out--his horses were kept in the house (that is the\npractice in the houses of Spain); but when he rode out they pulled him\noff his horse and pushed him back, and said that he should not go until\nhe had paid them the money.  He passed the night in terror, with loaded\npistols and guns, expecting that he and his family would be massacred\nevery minute, but he contrived eventually to send his staff-holder to\nBilbao on horseback.  The man galloped all the way to Bilbao, a distance\nof twenty-five miles, and went to Mr. Bartlett in the middle of the\nnight, and told him what had happened.  Mr. Bartlett immediately sent a\ndetachment up to the place to disperse the men.  This Carlist threatened\nthat if Mr. Small did not pay the money he would kill every person in the\nhouse.  When he was asked, 'Would you kill a man for that?' he replied,\n'Yes, like a fly,' and this coming from a man who, as I was told, had\nalready killed fourteen men with his own hand, was rather alarming.  Mr.\nBrassey and his partners suffer a great amount of loss by their contracts\nfor the Bilbao railway.\"\n\n\n\n\nHOW TO BEAR LOSSES.\n\n\nDuring the construction of the Bilbao line, shortly before the proposed\nopening, it set in to rain in such an exceptional manner that some of the\nworks were destroyed.  The agent telegraphed to Mr. Brassey to come\nimmediately, as a certain bridge had been washed down.  About three hours\nafterwards another telegram was sent, stating that a large bank was\nwashed away; and next morning, another, stating the rain continued, and\nmore damage had been done.  Mr. Brassey, turning to a friend, said,\nlaughingly: \"I think I had better wait until I hear that the rain has\nceased, so that when I do go, I may see what is left of the works, and\nestimate all the disasters at once, and so save a second journey.\"\n\nNo doubt Mr. Brassey felt these great losses that occasionally came upon\nhim much as other men do; but he had an excellent way of bearing them,\nand, like a great general, never, if possible, gave way to despondency in\nthe presence of his officers.\n\n\n\n\nRAILROAD INCIDENT.\n\n\nAn Englishwoman who travelled some years ago in America writes:--\"I had\nfound it necessary to study physiognomy since leaving England, and was\nhorrified by the appearance of my next neighbour.  His forehead was low,\nhis deep-set and restless eyes significant of cunning, and I at once set\nhim down as a swindler or a pickpocket.  My conviction of the truth of my\ninference was so strong that I removed my purse--in which, however,\nacting by advice, I never carried more than five dollars--from my pocket,\nleaving in it only my handkerchief and the checks for my baggage, knowing\nthat I could not possibly keep awake the whole morning.  In spite of my\nendeavours to the contrary, I soon sunk into an oblivious state, from\nwhich I awoke to the consciousness that my companion was withdrawing his\nhand from my pocket.  My first impulse was to make an exclamation; my\nsecond, which I carried into execution, to ascertain my loss, which I\nfound to be the very alarming one of my baggage checks; my whole property\nbeing thereby placed at this vagabond's disposal, for I knew perfectly\nwell that if I claimed my trunks without my checks the acute\nbaggage-master would have set me down as a bold swindler.  The keen-eyed\nconductor was not in the car, and, had he been there, the necessity for\nhabitual suspicion incidental to his position would so far have removed\nhis original sentiments of generosity as to make him turn a deaf ear to\nmy request; and there was not one of my fellow-travellers whose\nphysiognomy would have warranted me in appealing to him.  So,\nrecollecting that my checks were marked Chicago, and seeing that the\nthief's ticket bore the same name, I resolved to wait the chapter of\naccidents, or the reappearance of my friends.  With a whoop like an\nIndian war-whoop the cars ran into a shed--they stopped--the pickpocket\ngot up--I got up too--the baggage-master came to the door.  'This\ngentleman has the checks for my baggage,' said I, pointing to the thief.\nBewildered, he took them from his waistcoat pocket, gave them to the\nbaggage-master, and went hastily away.  I had no inclination to cry 'stop\nthief!' and had barely time to congratulate myself on the fortunate\nimpulse which had led me to say what I did, when my friends appeared from\nthe next carriage.  They were too highly amused with my recital to\nsympathize at all with my feelings of annoyance, and one of them, a\ngentleman filling a high situation in the east, laughed heartily, saying,\nin a thoroughly American tone, 'The English ladies must be cute customers\nif they can outwit Yankee pickpockets.'\"\n\n\n\n\nNOVEL OBSTRUCTION.\n\n\nOn a certain railroad in Louisiana the alligators have the bad habit of\ncrawling upon the track to sun themselves, and to such an extent have\nthey pushed this practice that the drivers of the locomotives are\nfrequently compelled to sound the engine whistle in order to scare the\ninterlopers away.\n\n                                                   --_Railway News_, 1867.\n\n\n\n\nBABY LAW.\n\n\nThe railways generously permit a baby to be carried without charge; but\nnot, it seems, without incurring responsibility.  It has been lately\ndecided, in \"Austin _v._ the Great Western Railway Company,\" 16 L. T.\nRep., N. S., 320, that where a child in arms, not paid for as a\npassenger, is injured by an accident caused by negligence, the company is\nliable in damages under Lord Campbell's Act.  Three of the judges were\nclearly of opinion that the company had, by permitting the mother to take\nthe child in her arms, contracted to carry safely both mother and child;\nand Blackburn, J., went still further, and was of opinion that,\nindependently of any such contract, express or implied, the law cast upon\nthe company a duty to use proper and reasonable care in carrying the\nchild, though unpaid for.  It may appear somewhat hard upon railway\ncompanies to incur liabilities through an act of liberality, but they\nhave chosen to do so.  The law is against them, that is clear; but they\nhave the remedy in their own hands.  There was some reason for exempting\na child in arms, for it occupies no place in the carriage, and is but a\ntrifling addition of weight.  But now it is established that the company\nis responsible for the consequences of accident to that child, the\ncompany is clearly entitled to make such a charge as will secure them\nagainst the risk.  The right course would be to have a tariff, say\none-fifth or one-fourth of the full fare, for a child in arms; and if\nstrict justice was done, this would be deducted from the fares of the\npassengers who have the ill-luck to face and flank the squaller.\n\n                                                      --_Law Times_, 1867.\n\n\n\n\nRAILROAD TRACKLAYER.\n\n\nThe railroad tracklayer is now working along regularly at the rate of a\nmile a day.  The machine is a car 60 feet long and 10 feet wide.  It has\na small engine on board for handling the ties and rails.  The ties are\ncarried on a common freight car behind, and conveyed by an endless chain\nover the top of the machinery, laid down in their places on the track,\nand, when enough are laid, a rail is put down on each side in proper\nposition and spiked down.  The tracklayer then advances, and keeps on its\nwork until the load of ties and rails is exhausted, when other car loads\nare brought.  The machine is driven ahead by a locomotive, and the work\nis done so rapidly that 60 men are required to wait on it, but they do\nmore work than twice as many could do by the old system, and the work is\ndone quite as well.  The chief contractor of the road gives it as his\nopinion that when the machine is improved by making a few changes in the\nmethod of handling rails and ties it will be able to put down five or six\nmiles per day.  This will render it possible to lay down track twelve\ntimes as fast as the usual rate by hand, and it will do the work at less\nexpense.  The invention will be of immense importance to the country in\nconnection with the Pacific railroad, which it was calculated could be\nbuilt as fast as the track could be laid, and no faster; but hereafter\nthe speed will be determined by the grading, which cannot advance more\nthan five miles a day.  Thirty millions of dollars have already been\ninvested on the Pacific railroad, and if the time of completion is\nhastened one year by this tracklayer, as it will be if Central and Union\nCompanies have money enough to grade each five miles a day, there will be\na saving of three million dollars on interest alone on that one road.\n\n                                                --_Alla California_, 1868.\n\n\n\n\nA GROWING LAD.\n\n\n\"This your boy, ma'am?\" inquired a collector of a country woman, \"he's\ntoo big for a 'alf ticket.\"  \"Oh, is he?\" replied the mother.  \"Well,\nperhaps he is now, mister; but he wasn't when he started.  The train is\never so much behind time--has been so long on the road--and he's a\ngrowing lad!\"\n\n\n\n\nFORGED TICKETS.\n\n\nAttempts to defraud railway companies by means of forged tickets are\nseldom made, and still more seldom successful.  In 1870, a man who lived\nin a toll-house near Dudley, and who rented a large number of tolls on\nthe different turnpikes, in almost every part of the country, devised a\nplan for travelling cheaply.  He set up a complete fount of type,\ncomposing stick, and every requisite for printing tickets, and provided\nhimself with  papers, colours, and paints to paint them, and\nplain cards on which to paste them; and he prepared tickets for journeys\nof great length, and available to and from different stations on the\nLondon and North-Western, Great Western, and Midland lines.  On arriving\none day at the ticket platform at Derby, he presented a ticket from\nMasbro' to Smethwick.  The collector, who had been many years in the\nservice of the company, thought there was something unusual in the\nticket.  On examination he found it to be a forgery, and when the train\narrived at the platform gave the passenger into custody.  On searching\nhis house, upwards of a thousand railway tickets were discovered in a\ndrawer in his bedroom, and the apparatus with which the forgeries were\naccomplished was also secured.  On the prisoner himself was the sum of\n199 pounds 10s., and it appeared that he came to be present at the annual\nletting of the tolls on the different roads leading out of Derby.  The\npunishment he received was sufficiently condign to serve as a warning to\nall who might be inclined to emulate such attempts after cheap\nlocomotion.\n\n                                           --Williams's _Midland Railway_.\n\n\n\n\nA YANKEE COMPENSATION CASE.\n\n\nA horny-handed old farmer entered the offices of one of the railroad\ncompanies, and inquired for the man who settled for hosses which was\nkilled by locomotives.  They referred him to the company's counsel, whom,\nhaving found, he thus addressed:--\n\n\"Mister, I was driving home one evening last week--\"\n\n\"Been drinking?\" sententiously questioned the lawyer.\n\n\"I'm centre pole of the local Tent of Rechabites,\" said the farmer.\n\n\"That doesn't answer my question,\" replied the man of law; \"I saw a man\nwho was drunk vote for the prohibition ticket last year.\"\n\n\"Hadn't tasted liquor since the big flood of 1846,\" said the old man.\n\n\"Go ahead.\"\n\n\"I will, 'Squire.  And when I came to the crossing of your line--it was\npretty dark, and--zip! along came your train, no bells rung, no whistles\ntooted, contrary to the statutes in such cases made and provided,\nand--whoop! away went my off-hoss over the telegraph wires.  When I had\ndug myself out'n a swamp some distance off and pacified the other\ncritter, I found that thar off-hoss was dead, nothing valuable about him\nbut his shoes, which mout have brought, say, a penny for old iron.\nWell--\"\n\n\"Well, you want pay for that 'ere off-hoss?\" said the lawyer, with a\nscarcely repressed sneer.\n\n\"I should, you see,\" replied the farmer, frankly; \"and I don't care about\ngoing to law about it, though possibly I'd get a verdict, for juries out\nin our town is mostly made up of farmers, and they help each other as a\nmatter of principle in these cases of stock killed by railroads.\"\n\n\"And this 'ere off-hoss,\" said the counsel, mockingly, \"was well bred,\nwasn't he?  He was rising four years, as he had been several seasons\npast.  And you had been offered 500 pounds for him the day he was killed,\nbut wouldn't take it because you were going to win all the prizes in the\nnext race with him?  Oh, I've heard of that off-horse before.\"\n\n\"I guess there's a mistake somewhere,\" said the old farmer, with an air\nof surprise; \"my hoss was got by old man Butt's roan-pacing hoss, Pride\nof Lemont, out'n a wall-eyed no account mare of my own, and, now that\nhe's dead, I may say that he was twenty-nine next grass.  Trot?  Why,\nFred Erby's hoss that he was fined for furious driving of was old Dexter\nalongside of him!  Five hundred pounds!  Bless your soul, do you think\nI'm a fool, or anyone else?  It is true I was made an offer for him the\nlast time I was in town, and, for the man looked kinder simple, and you\nknow how it is yourself with hoss trading, I asked the cuss mor'n the\nanimal might have been worth.  I asked him forty pounds, but I'd have\ntaken thirty.\"\n\n\"Forty?\" gasped the lawyer; \"forty?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" replied the farmer, meekly and apologetically; \"it kinder looks a\nbig sum, I know, for an old hoss; but that 'ere off-hoss could pull a\nmighty good load, considering.  Then I was kinder shook up, and the pole\nof my waggon was busted, and I had to get the harness fixed, and there's\nmy loss of time, and all that counts.  Say fifty pounds, and it's about\nsquare.\"\n\nThe lawyer whispered softly to himself, \"Well, I'll be hanged!\" and\nfilled out a cheque for fifty pounds.\n\n\"Sir,\" said he, covering the old man's hand, \"you are the first honest\nman I have met in the course of a legal experience of twenty-three years;\nthe first farmer whose dead horse was worth less than a thousand pounds,\nand could trot better without training.  Here, also, is a free pass for\nyourself and your male heirs in a direct line for three generations; and\nif you have a young boy to spare we will teach him telegraphing, and find\nhim steady and lucrative employment.\"\n\nThe honest old farmer took the cheque, and departed, smiting his brawny\nleg with his horny hand in triumph as he did so, with the remark--\n\n\"I knew I'd ketch him on the honest tack!  Last hoss I had killed I swore\nwas a trotter, and all I got was thirty pounds and interest.  Honesty is\nthe best policy.\"\n\n                                                          --_Once a Week_.\n\n\n\n\nABERGELE ACCIDENT.\n\n\nThe Irish mail leaving London at shortly after seven A.M., it was timed\nin 1868 to make the distance to Chester, one hundred and sixty-six miles,\nin four hours and eighteen minutes; from Chester to Holyhead is\neighty-five miles, for running which the space of one hundred and\ntwenty-five minutes was allowed.  Abergele is a point on the seacoast in\nNorth Wales, nearly midway between these two places.  On the 20th of\nAugust, 1868, the Irish mail left Chester as usual.  It was made up of\nthirteen carriages in all, which were occupied--as the carriages of that\ntrain usually were--by a large number of persons whose names, at least,\nwere widely known.  Among these, on this particular occasion, were the\nDuchess of Abercorn, wife of the then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, with\nfive children.  Under the running arrangements of the London and\nNorth-Western line a goods train left Chester half-an-hour before the\nmail, and was placed upon the siding at Llanddulas, a station about a\nmile-and-a-half beyond Abergele, to allow the mail to pass.  From\nAbergele to Llanddulas the track ascended by a gradient of some sixty\nfeet to the mile.  On the day of the accident it chanced that certain\nwagons between the engine and the rear end of the goods train had to be\ntaken out to be left at Llanddulas, and, in doing this, it became\nnecessary to separate the train and to leave five or six of the last\nwagons in it standing on the main line, while those which were to be left\nwere backed on to a siding.  The employe whose duty it was to have done\nso, neglected to set the brake on the wagons thus left standing, and\nconsequently when the engine and the rest of the train returned for them,\nthe moment they were touched, and before a coupling could be effected,\nthe jar set them in motion down the incline toward Abergele.  They\nstarted so slowly that a brakeman of the train ran after them, fully\nexpecting to catch and stop them, but as they went down the grade they\nsoon outstripped him, and it became clear that there was nothing to check\nthem until they should meet the Irish mail, then almost due.  It also\nchanced that the wagons thus loosened were oil wagons.\n\nThe mail train was coming up the line at a speed of about thirty miles an\nhour, when its engine-driver suddenly perceived the loose wagons coming\ndown upon it around the curve, and then but a few yards off.  Seeing that\nthey were oil wagons, he almost instinctively sprang from his engine, and\nwas thrown down by the impetus and rolled to the side of the road-bed.\nPicking himself up, bruised but not seriously hurt, he saw that the\ncollision had already taken place, that the tender had ridden directly\nover the engine, that the colliding wagons were demolished, and that the\nfront carriages of the train were already on fire.  Running quickly to\nthe rear of the train, he succeeded in uncoupling six carriages and a\nvan, which were drawn away from the rest before the flames extended to\nthem by an engine which most fortunately was following the train.  All\nthe other carriages were utterly destroyed, and every person in them\nperished.\n\nThe Abergele was probably a solitary instance, in the record of railway\naccidents, in which but one single survivor sustained any injury.  There\nwas no maiming.  It was death or entire escape.  The collision was not a\nparticularly severe one, and the engine driver of the mail train\nespecially stated that at the moment it occurred the loose wagons were\nstill moving so slowly that he would not have sprung from his engine had\nhe not seen that they were loaded with oil.  The very instant the\ncollision took place, however, the fluid seemed to ignite and to flash\nalong the train like lightning, so that it was impossible to approach a\ncarriage when once it caught fire.  The fact was that the oil in vast\nquantities was spilled upon the track and ignited by the fire of the\nlocomotive, and then the impetus of the mail train forced all of its\nleading carriages into the dense mass of smoke and flame.  All those who\nwere present concurred in positively stating that not a cry, nor a moan,\nnor a sound of any description was heard from the burning carriages, nor\ndid any one in them apparently make an effort to escape.\n\nThough the collision took place before one o'clock, in spite of the\nefforts of a large gang of men who were kept throwing water on the line,\nthe perfect sea of flame which covered the line for a distance of some\nforty or fifty yards could not be extinguished until nearly eight o'clock\nin the evening, for the petroleum had flowed down into the ballasting of\nthe road, and the rails were red-hot.  It was, therefore, small occasion\nfor surprise that when the fire was at last gotten under, the remains of\nthose who lost their lives were in some cases wholly undistinguishable,\nand in others almost so.  Among the thirty-three victims of the disaster,\nthe body of no single one retained any traces of individuality; the faces\nof all were wholly destroyed, and in no case were there found feet or\nlegs or anything approaching to a perfect head.  Ten corpses were finally\nidentified as those of males, and thirteen as those of females, while the\nsex of ten others could not be determined.  The body of one passenger,\nLord Farnham, was identified by the crest on his watch, and, indeed, no\nbetter evidence of the wealth and social position of the victims of this\naccident could have been asked for than the collection of articles found\non its site.  It included diamonds of great size and singular brilliancy;\nrubies, opals, emeralds; gold tops of smelling bottles, twenty-four\nwatches--of which but two or three were not gold--chains, clasps of bags,\nand very many bundles of keys.  Of these, the diamonds alone had\nsuccessfully resisted the intense heat of the flame; the settings were\nnearly all destroyed.\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY DESTROYERS IN THE FRANCO-GERMAN WAR.\n\n\nOne obvious means of hampering the military operations of the Germans was\nthe cutting of railroads, so as to interrupt and overthrow on-coming\ntrains.  This method was resorted to by bands of volunteers, calling\nthemselves \"The Wild Boars of Ardennes,\" and \"Railway Destroyers.\"  Here\nagain the invaders incurred great odium by announcing that, on the\ndeparture of a train in the disaffected districts, the mayor and\nprincipal inhabitants should be made to take their places on the engine,\nso that if the peasants chose to upset the conveyance, their surest\nvictims would be their own compatriots.\n\n                                                --_Annual Register_, 1870.\n\n\n\n\nFRIGHTENED AT A RED LIGHT.\n\n\nA driver, not on duty, had been drinking, and was, in company with his\nfireman, walking in the vicinity of the Edgware Road, when he suddenly\nstarted violently, and seizing his mate's arm, shouted--\n\n\"Hold hard, mate--hold hard!\"\n\n\"What's the matter?\" cried the fireman.\n\n\"Matter!\" roared the driver, \"why, you're a-running by the red light;\"\nand he pointed to the crimson glare which streamed through a glass bottle\nin a chemist's window.\n\n\"Come along; that's nothing,\" said the fireman, trying to drag him on.\n\n\"What, run by the red light, and go afore Dannel in the morning?\"\nretorted the driver, and no persuasion could or did get him to pass the\nshop.  He was a Great Western man, and the \"Dannel\" whom he held in such\nwholesome awe was the celebrated engineer, now Sir Daniel Gooch, and\nchairman of that line.  He was then the locomotive chief, and renowned\nabove all other things for maintaining discipline among his staff, while\nthey cherished a feeling for him very much akin to what we hear of the\nclannish enthusiasm of the ancient Scotch.\n\n\n\n\nTHE DECOY TRUNK.\n\n\nAugust 27, 1875.  The Metropolitan magistrates have had before them a\ncase which seems likely to show how some, at least, of the robberies at\nrailway stations are accomplished.  Some ingenious persons, it appears,\nhave devised a way by which a trunk can be made to steal a trunk, and a\nportmanteau to annex a portmanteau.  The thieves lay a trunk artfully\ncontrived on a smaller trunk; the latter clings to the former, and the\nowner of the larger carries both away.  The decoy trunk is said to be\nfitted with a false bottom, which goes up when it is laid on a smaller\ntrunk, and with mechanism inside which does for the innocent trunk what\nPolonius recommended Laertes to do for his friend, and grapples it to its\nheart with hooks of steel.  In fact, the decoy duck--we do not know how\nbetter to describe it--is made to perform an office like that of certain\nflowers, which suddenly close at the pressure of a fly or other insect\nwithin their cup and imprison him there.\n\n                                                --_Annual Register_, 1875.\n\n\n\n\nDRIVING A LAST SPIKE.\n\n\nThere are now two lines crossing the American continent.  The western\nsection of the new route goes through on the thirty-parallel--far enough\nsouth from the Rocky Mountains for the current of the train's own motion\nto be acceptable even in December, and to be a grateful relief in June.\nBeginning at San Francisco, the additional line runs south through\nCalifornia to Fort Yuma on the Colorado river; thence along the southern\nborder of the territories of Arizona and New Mexico, and across the\ncentre of Kansas, until it joins the lines connecting the Southern States\nwith New York.  The undertaking is a vast one, and has been one of some\ndifficulty; but its completion has been the occasion of very little\ndisplay.  Never was a great project of any kind brought to a successful\nresult with so much of active work and so little of actual talk.  A cable\nmessage a line in length told the story a month ago to European readers,\nand none of the American papers appear to have dealt with the matter as\nanything out of the ordinary run of daily events.\n\nFar otherwise was it with the finishing touch twelve years ago to the\nother Transcontinental line.  The whole world heard of what was then\ndone.  All the bells in all the great cities of the United States rang\nout jubilant peals as the last stroke sent home the last spike on the\nlast rail of the new highway of travel.  The news was flashed by\ntelegraph everywhere throughout the Union, and that there might be no\ndelay in its transmission and no hindrance to its simultaneous reception,\na certain pre-arranged signal was given and all the wires were for the\ntime being kept free of other business.  There were cases in which, to\nsave time in ringing out the glad news, the message was conveyed on\nspecial wires right up to the bell towers; and everywhere there was a\nfeeling that a great victory had been won.  Preceding the consummation,\nthere had been some wonderful feats in railroad construction.  From the\nMissouri river on the one side and from the Sacramento on the other, the\ntwo companies--the Union Pacific and the Central Pacific--advanced\nagainst each other in friendly rivalry.  The popular idea was that the\nlength of the line of each company would be measured to the point at\nwhich it joined rails with the other.  This was hardly the case; but an\narrangement was come to after the completion of the work which has given\nthis notion the strength of a tradition.  The greater part of the Union\nPacific route was over comparatively even ground, and it was not until\nthe Salt Lake region was being approached that any serious constructive\ndifficulties presented themselves.  It was otherwise with the company\nadvancing eastward.  The line had to be carried over the Sierra Nevada,\nthe ascent beginning almost from the starting point, and rising seven\nthousand feet in a hundred miles.  On the other side of the mountain\nrange, the descent was in turn formidable.  Over this part of the road it\nwas impossible to proceed rapidly.  The work was surrounded with\ndifficulties, and there were competent engineers who had no confidence\nthat it could be carried out.  Progress could only be made at the outset\nat the rate of about twenty miles each year; but in this slow work there\nwas time to profit by experience, so that eventually, when it became a\nquestion simply of many hands, the platelayer went forward with the swing\nof an army on the march.  Then it was that the two companies went\nvigorously into the race of construction.  In one day, in 1868, the Union\nmen were able to inform the Central men by telegraph that they had laid\nas many as six miles since morning.  A few days afterwards the response\ncame from the Central men that they had just finished as their day's work\na stretch of seven miles.  Spurred to fresh activity by this display, the\nUnion men next reported to the other side a complete stretch for a day's\nwork of seven and a half miles!  The answer came back in the\nextraordinary announcement that the workers for the Central Company were\nprepared to lay ten miles in one day!  The Union people were inclined to\nregard this as mere boasting, and the Vice-President of the company\nimplied as much when he made an offer to bet ten thousand dollars that in\none day such a stretch of railroad could not be well and truly laid.  It\nis not on record that the bet was taken up.  But the fact remains that it\nwas made, that the Central army of workers heard of it, and that they\ndetermined to make good the pledge given in their name.  So a day was\nfixed for the attempt.  From the Union side men came to take note of the\nwork and to measure it, and their verdict at the close of the day's toil\nwas that not only had the promised ten miles been constructed, but that\nthe measurement showed two hundred feet over!  And this, on the words of\nan authority, is how it was done:--When the car loaded with rails came to\nthe end of the track, the two outer rails on either side were seized with\niron nippers, hauled forward off the car, and laid on the ties by four\nmen who attended exclusively to this work.  Over these rails the cars\nwere pushed forward and the process repeated.  Then came a gang of men\nwho half-drove the spikes and screwed on the fish-plates on the dropped\nrails.  At a short interval behind these came a gang of Chinamen, who\ndrove home the spikes already inserted and added the rest.  A second\nsquad of Chinamen followed, two deep, on each side of the single track,\nthe inner men carrying shovels and the outer men wielding picks, their\nduty being to ballast the track.  Every movement was thus carefully\narranged, and there was no loss of time.  The average rate of speed at\nwhich the work was done was 1 min. 47.5 secs. to every 240 feet of\nperfected track.  There was, of course, an army of disciplined helpers,\nwhose duty it was to bring up the materials.  In this great feat of\nconstruction more than four thousand men found employment in various\ncapacities.  When they had carried their line four miles further east,\nthe Central and the Union men met each other, the point of connection\nbeing known as Promontory.  Afterwards the two companies made an\narrangement whereby the Union Pacific relinquished fifty-three miles of\nroad to the Central, thus fixing on Ogden as the western terminus of the\none line and the eastern terminus of the other.  The popular belief is\nthat the fifty-three miles were obtained by the Central Pacific directors\nas an acknowledgement of the greater engineering difficulties they had to\novercome in laying their part of the track, and that they served a\nhandicapping purpose at the end of this wonderful railroad competition.\n\nThe placing of the final tie on the Pacific lines, as has been hinted,\nwas a ceremonious undertaking.  The event took place on Monday, March\n10th, 1869.  Representatives were present from almost every part of the\nUnion, and the construction parties, not yet wholly dispersed, made up a\ngreater crowd than had been seen at Promontory before or is likely ever\nto be seen there again--for, with the fixing of the termini at another\npoint, the glory of the place has departed.  The connecting tie had been\nmade of California laurel.  It was beautifully polished, and bore a\nseries of inscribed silver plates.  The tie was carefully placed, and\nover it the rails were laid by picked men on behalf of each company.  The\nspikes were then inserted--one of gold, silver, and iron, from Arizona;\nanother of silver, from Nevada; and a third of gold, from California.\nPresident Stanford, of the Central Pacific, armed with a hammer of solid\nsilver, drove the last spike, the blow falling precisely at noon, and the\nnews of the completion of the road being flashed abroad as it fell.  Then\nthe two locomotives, one from the west and the other from the east, drew\nup to each other on the single line, coming into gentle collision, that\nthey in their way, in the pleasing conceit of their drivers, might\nsymbolise the fraternisation that went on.  It does not spoil the story\nof the ceremony to state that the laurel tie, with its inscriptions and\nits magnificent mountings, was only formally laid, and that it became\nfrom that day a relic to be officially cherished; and it should be added\nthat the more serviceable tie which replaced it was cut into fragments by\nmen eager to have some memento of the occasion.  Other ties for a time\nshared the same fate, until splinters of what was claimed to be \"the last\ntie laid\" became as common as pieces of the Wellington boots the great\ncommander is said to have left behind him at Waterloo.\n\nWith the junction of the two lines, it became possible to make safely in\none week an overland journey that not many years before required months\nin its execution, and was attended by many hardships and dangers.  It\nwas, however, a route better known even in the days when the legend of\nthe pilgrims over it was \"Pike's Peak or bust!\" than is the region\ncrossed by the new southern line.  This line opens up what is practically\nan undiscovered and an unsettled country, but the region traversed has\nbeen ascertained to be so rich in resources as to fully justify the heavy\nexpenditure involved in the construction of the line.  In another year\nthe line will become a powerful agent in the development of the Union,\nfor it will then be connected with the lines that run through Texas into\nLouisiana, and New Orleans and San Francisco will be brought into direct\ncommunication with each other.  This, in fact, has been a prominent\nobject in the undertaking.  The effect of it will be to cheapen the\ntariff on goods from the Pacific Coast to Europe, and will, it is\nbelieved, have the effect of controlling a large share of the Asiatic\ntrade.\n\n                                      --_Leeds Mercury_, April 23rd, 1881.\n\n\n\n\nMARRIAGE AND RAILWAY DIVIDENDS.\n\n\nMarriage would not seem to have any close connection with railroad\ntraffic, but we find an officer of an East Indian railroad company\nexplaining a falling off in the passenger receipts of the year (1874) by\nthe fact that it was a \"twelfth year,\" which is regarded by the Hindoos\nas so unfavourable to marriage that no one, or scarcely any one, is\nmarried.  And, as weddings are the great occasions in Hindoo life when\nthere is great pomp and a general gathering together of friends, they\ncause a great deal of travelling.\n\n\n\n\nSECURITY FOR TRAVELLING.\n\n\nA civil engineer, of long experience in connection with railways, gives\nsome reassuring statements as to the precautions taken in keeping the\nlines in order.  The majority of accidents occur, not from defects in the\nline, but from imperfections in the living agents who have charge of the\nsignals and other arrangements of trains in transit.  The engineer\nsays:--\"To begin at the bottom, we have the ganger of the 'beat,' a man\nselected from the waymen after several years' service for his aptitude\nand steadiness, whose duty it is to patrol his length of two or three\nmiles every morning, and to make good fastenings, etc., afterwards\nsuperintending his gang in packing, replacing rails, sleepers, and other\nnecessary repairs.  Over the ganger is the inspector of permanent way,\nresponsible for the gangers doing their duty, who generally goes over all\nhis district once a day on the engine, and walks one or more gangers'\nbeats.  The inspectors, again, are under the district superintendent or\nengineer, who makes frequent inspections both by walking and on the\nengine.  The ganger, if in want of men or materials, reports to his\ninspector, who, if they are required, sends a requisition to the\nengineer, keeping a small stock at his head-quarters to supply urgent\ndemands.  The engineer in his turn keeps the whole in harmony,\nsanctioning the employment of the necessary men, and ordering the\nmaterials, the only check upon the number of men or quantity of materials\nbeing the total half-yearly expenditure.  Directors never within my\nexperience grudge an outlay necessary to keep the line in good order;\nbut, should they limit the expenditure from financial motives, it would\nthen clearly be the duty of the engineer to recommend a reduction of\nspeed to a safe point.  Occasionally, idle gangers are met with, who are\nalways asking for more men, and as naturally meeting with refusal.\n\n\n\n\nTHE NUMBER ONE HUNDRED AND TWENTY.\n\n\nLord Lymington, M.P., relates the following amusing tale of his\nexperience with an inquiring and hospitable gentleman in Arkansas:--\"He\nintroduced himself to me very kindly on learning that I was a traveller\nand an Englishman, and offered me the hospitalities of the town.  It was\nvery obliging of him, but unfortunately I could not stay, so we had a\nchat while I was waiting for the train.  During this chat his eye fell on\na portmanteau of mine which I had caused to be marked, for convenience\nsake and easy identification, with the cabalistic figures 120.  This he\nscanned for some time with ill-concealed curiosity, and finally, turning\nto me, said rather abruptly, 'If I am not mistaken, you are a nobleman,\nare you not?'  I admitted that such was my unhappy lot.  'Then,' he said,\n'I presume that number there on your valise is what they call in the\nnobility armorial bearings, is it not--in fact, your crest?'  'Hardly\nthat,' I modestly replied.  'A number is only borne as a crest, I\nbelieve, by much more illustrious persons--for example, the Beast in the\nApocalypse.'  'Oh!' he replied, and then, after meditating a moment or\ntwo, asked, 'Have your family been long in England?'  'Yes,' I said,\n'they have been there for some time.  But why do you ask?'  'Perhaps the\nnumber refers,' he replied, 'to the number of generations, just as they\nrecite them in the Old Testament, you know?'  'Yes,' I unhesitatingly and\nwith prompt mendacity replied, 'that is exactly it, and I don't see how\nyou hit it so cleverly.'  He smiled all over with delight as the train\nrushed up, and waved kind farewells to me as long as we were in sight.\"\n\n\n\n\nENGINE DRIVING.\n\n\nBut the regulator once in his hand, the engine-driver has only begun his\nexperience.  He goes through an apprenticeship with different varieties\nof engines.  He must pick up what knowledge he can himself, and he must\nalways be on the alert to benefit from the experience of others.  The\nlocomotive in its varying \"moods\" must be his constant study, and he must\nwork it so that he shall not infringe more than an average share of a\nmultiplicity of rules and regulations.  The best position in the service,\napart from that of superintendence, is in the driving of an express\nengine, and the greatest honour that can be conferred on an engine-driver\nis to select him to take charge of the locomotive on a Royal train.  Only\nthe best men are picked out to drive the Queen, and the best engine on\nthe road is detailed for the Royal service; and although on those\noccasions railway officials, who are the superiors of the driver, get on\nthe foot-boards, the latter is for the time being master of the\nsituation.  Should the locomotive superintendent dictate to him, it would\nbe to confess that the driver was unworthy of his high trust, and so the\nsuperintendent is content to look on; but it is the contentment born of\nthe conviction that he has chosen for the task a driver whose experience\nis great, and whose watchfulness and care and knowledge of enginery have\ngiven him a claim to the chief service his company has for him.  Not that\nthere is any more risk in running the Queen's train than in running an\nordinary passenger express.  In fact, the risk is reduced to a minimum.\nA pilot engine has gone before to keep the way clear.  The pilot engine\nis fifteen minutes in advance of the Royal carriages at every station,\nand the space travelled over in that fifteen minutes is kept free and\nunobstructed.  The speed of the train is carefully regulated, and amongst\nother provisions for security the siding points are for the moment\nspiked.  Every crossing gate is guarded from the time of the passage of\nthe advance engine until the train follows in its wake.  Everything is\ndone to make the Royal journey over a railroad a safe one.  Such\narrangements, however, if they add to the responsibility, heighten also\nthe pride a man feels in being the Queen's driver.\n\nSo far as the companies are concerned, it may be said that there is a\nfair field and no favour all the way from the fire-box in the\ncleaning-shed up to the footboard on the locomotive that takes Her\nMajesty from Windsor to Ballater.  Promotion comes practically as a\nresult of competitive examination.  The mistake of a weak appointment is\nsoon rectified, and the precautions taken to test a man's capacity in one\ngrade before raising him to another are an absolute barrier to\nincompetence.  But there are circumstances under which a man's chances\nare weakened.  His responsibilities make him liable for the faults of\nothers, and mistakes of this kind go to his discredit.  Then if he is not\ncompanionable, or is over-confident, tricks may be played which will\nprevent his going forward as rapidly as he otherwise would.  Mr. Reynolds\ntells the story of a driver who had come to a dead stop on a journey\nbecause he was short of steam.  The cause was a mystery.  There appeared\nto be nothing wrong with the engine or the fire, and apparently the\nboiler was also in trim.  It was eventually found that some one had put\nsoft soap in the tender, and the water there being hot, the soap was\ngradually dissolved and introduced into the boiler, with the result that\nthe grease covered the tubes, and together with the suds prevented the\ntransmission of heat to the water.  An enemy had done this, but under the\nrules the driver was responsible for his engine, and he was suspended;\nonly, however, to be reinstated when once the mischief was traced to the\nperpetrator.  Even an act which to the ordinary spectator is a marvellous\nexample of presence of mind may, interpreted by the company's rules, be\nan offence on the part of the engine-driver.  An engine attached to a\ntrain broke from the tender in the course of its journey, and became\nseparated.  Noticing the mishap, the driver slackened speed, allowed the\ntender and carriages to come up, and while the train was still in motion\nhe and the fireman adroitly secured the runaway, and no harm was done.\nThe men interested did not think it advisable to report the occurrence.\nBut the clever management of the engine had been noticed by a peasant in\na field, and Hodge, in his wonderment, began to talk about the affair all\nround the country-side.  Then the story found its way to a station\nmaster, and thence to headquarters, and an inquiry brought the matter to\nlight, and ended in the two men being advised not to do the same thing\nagain.  It was held that under the circumstances the train should have\nbeen stopped.\n\n\n\n\nENGINE DRIVERS' PRESENCE OF MIND.\n\n\nAn able writer upon railway topics remarks:--\"I have alluded to a\ndriver's coolness and resolution in an accident, but no chronicle ever\nhas or ever will be written which will tell one tithe of the accidents\nwhich the courage and presence of mind of these men have averted.  A\nrailway ran over a river--indeed, it might be called an arm of the sea:\nas it was the inlet to an important harbour, provision was obliged to be\nmade for the shipping, and so the piece of line which crossed the water,\nat a height of seventy feet, was, in fact, a bridge which swung round\nwhen large vessels had to pass.  I need hardly say that such a point was\ncarefully guarded.  At each end, at a fitting distance, a man was placed\nspecially to indicate whether the bridge was open or shut.  One day, as\nthe express was tearing along on its up journey, the driver received the\nusual 'all right' signal; but to his horror, on coming in full sight of\nthe bridge, he found it was wide open, and a gulf of fatal depth yawning\nbefore him.  He sounded his brake-whistle, that deep-toned scream which\nsignals the guard, and he and his fireman held on, as before described,\nto the brake and regulator.  The speed of the train was, of course,\nchecked; but so short was the interval, so great had been the impetus,\nthat it seemed almost impossible to prevent the whole train from going\nover into the chasm.  Had the rails been in the least degree slippery,\nany of the brakes out of order, or the driver less determined, there\nwould then have occurred the most fearful railway accident ever known in\nEngland; but by dint of quick decision and cool courage the danger was\naverted; the train was brought to a standstill when the buffers of the\nengine absolutely and literally overhung the chasm.  Three yards more,\nand a different result might have had to be chronicled.\n\n\"Some of my readers may remember an incident in railway history which\ndates back to our first great Exhibition.  I mention it here for its\nsingularity, and for my having known the driver whose coolness was so\nmarked.  In ascending a very long gradient, the hindmost carriages of the\ntrain snapped their couplings when at the top; the engine rattled on with\nthe remainder, while these ran down the <DW72>, which was several miles in\nlength, with a velocity which, of course, increased every moment.  To\nmake matters worse, the next train on the same line was comparatively\nclose behind, and, in fact, shortly came in sight.  The driver of this\nsecond train, a watchful and experienced hand, saw the carriages rushing\ntowards him, and divined that they were on the same line.  If he\ncontinued steaming on, of course, in a couple of minutes he would come\ninto direct collision with them, while, on the other hand, if he ran\nback, the carriages would probably gather such way that they would leap\nfrom the bank.  So, with great presence of mind and wonderful judgment of\nspeed, he ran back at a pace not quite as fast as the carriages were\napproaching, so that eventually they overtook him, and struck his moving\nengine with a blow that was scarcely more perceptible than the jar\nusually communicated by coupling on a fresh carriage.  When this was\ndone, all the rest was easy; he resumed his down journey, and pushed the\nfrightened passengers safely before him until they reached their\ndestination, where the officials, as may readily be supposed, were in a\nstate of frantic despair at the loss of half the train.\"\n\n\n\n\nA SMUGGLING LOCOMOTIVE.\n\n\nA singular adaptation of the locomotive has just been made in Russia.\nInformation having been given to the authorities at Alexandrovo, on the\nPolish frontier, that the locomotive of the express leaving that station\nfor Warsaw had been ingeniously converted into a receptacle for smuggled\ngoods, it was carefully examined during its sojourn at the station.\nThough nothing was found wrong, it was deemed advisable that a\ncustom-house official should accompany the train to its destination, when\nthe engine furnace and boiler were emptied and deliberately taken to\npieces.  In the interior was discovered a secret compartment containing\none hundred and twenty-three pounds of foreign cigars and several parcels\nof valuable silk.  Several arrests were made, including that of the\ndriver; but his astonishment at finding the engine to which he had been\nso long accustomed converted into a hardened offender against the laws\nwas so genuine that he was released and allowed to return to his duties.\n\n\n\n\nTHE CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY.\n\n\nAn English lady accustomed to travelling abroad, and able to converse\nfluently in the languages of the countries she visited, recently found\nherself alone in a railway carriage in Germany, when two foreigners\nentered with pipes in their mouths, smoking strong tobacco furiously.\nShe quietly told them in their own language that it was not a smoking\ncarriage, but they persisted in continuing to smoke, remarking that it\nwas \"the custom of the country,\" upon which the lady took from her pocket\na pair of gloves and commenced cleaning them with benzoline.  Her\nfellow-passengers expressed their disgust at the nauseous effluvium, when\nshe remarked that it was the custom of her country.  She was soon left in\nthe sole possession of the carriage.\n\n                                                                --_Truth_.\n\n\n\n\nAN INSULTED WOMAN.\n\n\nMark Twain in his interesting work \"A Tramp Abroad,\" thus refers to a\nrailroad incident:--\"We left Turin at 10 the next morning by a railway,\nwhich was profusely decorated with tunnels.  We forgot to take a lantern\nalong, consequently we missed all the scenery.  Our compartment was full.\nA ponderous, tow-headed, Swiss woman, who put on many fine-lady airs, but\nwas evidently more used to washing linen than wearing it, sat in a corner\nseat and put her legs across into the opposite one, propping them\nintermediately with her up-ended valise.  In the seat thus pirated sat\ntwo Americans, greatly incommoded by that woman's majestic coffin-clad\nfeet.  One of them begged her, politely, to remove them.  She opened her\nwide eyes and gave him a stare, but answered nothing.  By-and-by he\npreferred his request again, with great respectfulness.  She said, in\ngood English, and in a deeply offended tone, that she had paid her\npassage and was not going to be bullied out of her 'rights' by ill-bred\nforeigners, even if she _was_ alone and unprotected.\n\n\"'But I have rights also, madam.  My ticket entitles me to a seat, but\nyou are occupying half of it.'\n\n\"'I will not talk with you, sir.  What right have you to speak to me?  I\ndo not know you.  One would know that you come from a land where there\nare no gentlemen.  No _gentleman_ would treat a lady as you have treated\nme.'\n\n\"'I come from a land where a lady would hardly give me the same\nprovocation.'\n\n\"'You have insulted me, sir!  You have intimated that I am not a\nlady--and I hope I am _not_ one, after the pattern of your country.'\n\n\"'I beg that you will give yourself no alarm on that head, madam but at\nthe same time I must insist--always respectfully--that you let me have my\nseat.'\n\n\"Here the fragile laundress burst into tears and sobs.\n\n\"'I never was so insulted before!  Never, never!  It is shameful, it is\nbrutal, it is base, to bully and abuse an unprotected lady who has lost\nthe use of her limbs and cannot put her feet to the floor without agony!'\n\n\"'Good heavens, madam, why didn't you say that at first!  I offer a\nthousand pardons.  And I offer them most sincerely.  I did not know--I\n_could_ not know--that anything was the matter.  You are most welcome to\nthe seat, and would have been from the first if I had only known.  I am\ntruly sorry it all happened, I do assure you.'\n\n\"But he couldn't get a word of forgiveness out of her.  She simply sobbed\nand snuffled in a subdued but wholly unappeasable way for two long hours,\nmeantime crowding the man more than ever with her undertaker-furniture,\nand paying no sort of attention to his frequent and humble little efforts\nto do something for her comfort.  Then the train halted at the Italian\nline, and she hopped up and marched out of the car with as firm a leg as\nany washerwoman of all her tribe!  And how sick I was to see how she had\nfooled me!\"\n\n\n\n\nDISSATISFIED PASSENGERS.\n\n\nAny one wanting a fair and yet amusing account of what really occurs to a\nperson travelling in America should read G. A. Sala's book called\n_America Revisited_.  He speaks of a gentleman from the Eastern States\nwhom he met in the train across the continent, and who thus held forth\nupon the difference between reality and guide-books:--\n\n\"There ain't no bottling up of things about me.  This overland journey's\na fraud, and you oughter know it.  Don't tell me.  It's a fraud.  This\nRing must be busted up.  Where are your buffalers?  Perhaps you'll tell\nme that them cows is buffalers.  They ain't.  Where are your prairie\ndogs?  They ain't dogs to begin with, they're squirrels.  Ain't you\nashamed to call the mean little cusses dogs?  But where are they?  There\nain't none.  Where are your grizzlies?  You might have imported a few\ngrizzlies to keep up the name of your railroad.  Where are your herds of\nantelopes scudding before the advancing train?  Nary an antelope have you\ngot for to scud.  Rocky Mountains, sir?  They ain't rocky at all--they're\nas flat as my hand.  Where are your savage gorges?  I can't see none.\nWhere are your wild injuns?  Do you call them loafing tramps in dirty\nblankets, injuns?  My belief is that they are greasers looking out for an\nengagement as song and dance men.  They're 'beats,' sir, 'dead beats,'\nthey're 'pudcocks,' and you oughter be told so.\"\n\nAnother passenger in the train with Mr. Sala was of a poetic mind, and he\nsoftly sang to himself during the whole journey over the Rocky Mountains\nthe following effusion:--\n\n          Beautiful snow,\n          Beautiful snow,\n          B-e-e-e-eautiful snow,\n    How I'd like to have a revolver and go\n    For the beast that wrote about beautiful snow.\n\n\n\n\nCOPY OF A NOTICE.\n\n\nThe following is a verbatim copy of a notice exhibited at Welsh railway\nstation.  It is, perhaps, only a little more incomprehensible than\nBradshaw.  \"List of Booking: You passengers must careful.  For have them\nlevel money for ticket and to apply at once for asking tickets when will\nbooking window open.  No tickets to have after the departure of the\ntrains.\"\n\n\n\n\nSNOWED UP ON THE PACIFIC RAILWAY.\n\n\nA writer in the _Leisure Hour_ remarks:--\"It is no joke when a town like\nNew York or London is blocked up for a few hours by snow.  Both labour\nand capital have then to submit to a strike from nature; but it is a more\nserious matter when a man is snowed up in the middle of the Pacific\nRailway.  He is not then kept at home, but kept away from it; he is not\nin the midst of comforts, but most unpleasantly out of their reach.  He\nmay, too, have to endure his privations and annoyances for a week, or\neven a month. . .  Avalanches, in spite of snow-sheds and galleries,\nspring into ravines which the trains have to cross. . . .  It was,\nhowever, with some little alarm that the writer found himself caverned\nfor a considerable time under one of these dark snow-sheds.  The\ndifficulty of running through the snow impediments had so exhausted the\nfuel that it was necessary to go to a wood-station in the mountains.  As\nit was the favourite resort of avalanches, the prudent conductor of our\ntrain directed the pilot to back the carriages into a snow-shed, and then\nbe off the more quickly with engine and tender for a supply of fuel.  It\nwas bitterly cold and in the dead of night.  The snow was piled up around\nthe gallery, and had in many places penetrated through the crevices.  The\nsilence was profound.  The sense of utter loneliness and desolation was\ncomplete.  The return of the engine after a lengthened absence was a\nrelief, like the spring sun following an arctic winter.\n\n\"The first parties snowed up were wholly unprepared.  They had had their\ndollar meal at the last station, and were far enough from the next when\nfixed in the bank.  It was, however, a rare harvest for the nearest\nstore.  The necessity of some was the opportunity of others.  Food of\ninferior quality brought fabulous prices.  A dispute, involving a heavy\nwager, arose about one article of fare.  Was it antelope or not?  The\nvendor admitted that a very lean old cow had been sacrificed on the\npressing occasion.\n\n\"For a little while some fun was got out of the trouble of snowed-up\ntrains.  Delicate attentions were tendered by gentlemen as cooks' mates\nto the ladies.  Oyster-cans were converted into culinary utensils, and\ntelegraph wire proved excellent material for gridirons.  Many a joke was\npassed in the train kitchen, and hearty was the appetite for the rude\nviands thus rudely dressed.  But when the food grew more difficult to\nobtain, and the wood supply became less and less, the mirth was\nconsiderably slackened.  It is true that despatches were sent off for\nhelp, and cargoes of provisions were steamed up as near as the snow would\npermit; but it was hard work to carry over the snow, and insufficient was\nthe supply.  Frightful growlings arose from the men and sad lamentations\nfrom the women.  Short allowance of food, with intense cold, could not be\npositively enjoyed any time; but to be cooped up within snow walls in\nsuch a desolate region, far from expecting friends or urgent business,\nwas most annoying.  One spoke of absolute necessity to be at his office\nwithin the week, as heavy bills had to be prepared for.  Another was\ngoing about an important speculation, which would utterly break down if\nhe were detained three days.  Alas! he was there above three weeks.\n\n\"The sorrows of the heart were worse.  A mother was there hastening to\nnurse a sick daughter.  A father had been summoned to the dying bed of\nhis son.  A husband was hoping to clasp again a wife from whom a long\nvoyage had separated him.  One poor fellow was an especial object of\nsympathy.  He was hastening to an anxiously waiting bride.  He had to\ncool the ardour of his passion in the snow-bound car, and pass the day\nappointed for his wedding in shivering reflections.  In one of the snow\ndepths was detained an interesting couple who had casually met on the\nwestern side and were obeying the mandate of the heart and of friends in\nproceeding to the east to effect their happy union.  The three weeks they\nwere compelled to pass together, under these cold and trying\ncircumstances, must have given them a famous insight into each other's\ncharacter, and this before the knot was tied.\n\n\"The story is told of one resolute man who, though but newly married, had\nbeen compelled to take a business journey.  He was most impatient to\nreturn home, and was awhile confounded with his unfortunate imprisonment.\nWhen he found that little chance existed for an early escape, his heart\nprompted him to a bold enterprise.  He was still two hundred miles from\nhome.  He had no guide before him but the telegraph posts.  He could\nexpect little provision on the way, as the stations were frozen up; but,\nsustained by conjugal affection, the good fellow set off on his lonely\nwalk over the snow.  Notwithstanding terrible sufferings, and some free\nfighting with wolves, he did his march in five days only.  What a\ngreeting he deserved!\n\n\"Those who had not his courage and strength were compelled to endure the\ncars.  Americans are not folks to whine about a trouble; they succeed so\noften that their faith is strong.  Though the most luxurious of people,\nthe men--and the women too--can bear reverses nobly.  But they never\ndream of Oriental submissiveness.  They struggle hard to rise, and make\nthe best of things till a change comes.  So with those in the cars.  They\nsoon found amusements; they chatted and laughed, played games and sang;\nthe best jokes were recollected and repeated, and the liveliest tales\nwere told; charades were acted; a judge and jury scene afforded much\namusement; lectures were given to approving assemblies.  The Sundays were\ndecently observed, and services were held morning and evening; reading\nwas dispensed with, and the sermons were extempore perforce.\n\n\"The worst part of their sufferings came when for forty-eight hours they\nwere under a snow-shed without light, and with the stoves empty.  As, for\nthe maintenance of warmth, every crevice in the cars was stopped, the\nmisery of close and unwholesome atmosphere was added to their sorrows.\nThe writer, as an old traveller, has had some experience of odd sleeping\ndens, and has been obliged at times to inhale a pestiferous air, though\nhe has never endured so much from this discomfort as in his winter\npassage on the Pacific Railway.  For hours in the long nights, as well as\nin the day, he preferred standing outside on the platform, with the\nthermometer from fifteen to twenty-five below zero, rather than encounter\nthe foul atmosphere and stifling heat within.\n\n\"Meanwhile the brave Chinamen were summoned to the rescue.  They are\ncapital fellows to withstand the cold, and work with a will to clear a\npassage.  For a distance of two hundred miles the blockade existed, and\nseveral trains were thus caught on the way.  Eight hundred freight wagons\nwere detained at Cheyenne.  At one period the cold was 30 degrees below\nzero.  The worst part of the road was toward Sherman, 8,252 feet above\nthe sea.  Wyoming and West Nebraska were the coldest regions.\n\n\"In this great blockade, strange to say, the mortality was but small.\nThree died during the imprisonment, and two in consequence of cold.  But\nan interesting compensation was made, for five births took place in this\nseason of trial.  The principal sufferers were those in the second-class\ncarriages.  Room, however, was made for the more delicate in the already\ncrowded first-class cars.\"\n\n\n\n\nA SELL.\n\n\nThe _Indianapolis News_ is responsible for the following story.  A\nrailroad official of Indianapolis had, among other passes, one purporting\nto carry him freely over the Warren and Tonawanda Narrow-Gauge Railway.\nHappening to be near Warren, he thought he would use this pass.  Now, it\nappears that some enterprising citizens of Pennsylvania once proposed to\nlay a pipe-line for petroleum between Warren and Tonawanda.  The\nLegislature having refused to sanction their scheme, they \"engineered\" a\nbill for building a narrow-gauge line, which passed, the oil capitalists\nnot conceiving that they had any interest in opposing it.  It is needless\nto say the narrow-gauge line was the \"desiderated pipe-line.\"  The\nenterprising citizens carried their joke so far as to issue annual passes\nover the road, receiving others in return.  When the traveller sought for\nthe Warren station on this line he found a chimney, and for the\nnarrow-gauge an iron-lined hole in the ground.  It is hardly surprising\nthat now he is moved to anger at the slightest reference to the \"Warren\nand Tonawanda Narrow Gauge.\"\n\n\n\n\nAT FAULT.\n\n\nIt is rather a serious matter that our public companies, and especially\nour railway companies, are doing their best to degrade our language.  I\nam not going to be squeamish and object strongly to the use of the word\n_Metropolitan_, though I think it indefensible.  Still, it is too bad of\nthem to persist in using the word _bye-laws_ for _by-laws_--so\nestablishing solidly a shocking error.  The word _bye_ has no existence\nin England except as short for _be with you_, in the phrase _Good-bye_.\nThe so called by-laws are simple laws by the other laws, and have nothing\nto do with any form of salutation.  In a bill of the Great Western\nRailway I find the announcement that tickets obtained in London on any\nday from December 20th to 24th will be available for use on _either_ of\nthose days--this _either_ meaning the five days from the 20th December to\nthe 24th inclusive.  Either of five!  After this I am not surprised that,\nin a contribution of my own to a daily paper, the editor gravely altered\nthe phrase _the last-named_, applied to one of three people, to _latter_.\nIn a railway advertisement I read a day or two ago, \"From whence.\"  Now,\nwhat is the good of such fine words as _whence_ and _thence_ if they are\nthus to be ill-used?  Surely the railway companies might have some one\ncapable of seeing that their grammar has some pretence to correctness.\n\n                                                 --_Gentleman's Magazine_.\n\n\n\n\nA WIDOW'S CLAIM FOR COMPENSATION.\n\n\nSome time ago a railway collision on one of the roads leading out of New\nYork killed, among others, a passenger living in an interior town.  His\nremains were sent home, and a few days after the funeral the attorney of\nthe road called upon the widow to effect a settlement.  She placed her\nfigures at twenty thousand dollars.  \"Oh! that sum is unreasonable,\"\nreplied the attorney.  \"Your husband was nearly fifty years old.\"  \"Yes,\nsir.\"  \"And lame?\"  \"Yes.\"  \"And his general health was poor?\"  \"Quite\npoor.\"  \"And he probably would not have lived over five years?\"\n\"Probably not, sir.\"  \"Then it seems to me that two or three thousand\ndollars would be a fair compensation.\"  \"Two or three thousand!\" she\nechoed.  \"Why, sir, I courted that man for ten years, run after him for\nten more, and then had to chase him down with a shotgun to get him before\na preacher!  Do you suppose that I'm going to settle for the bare cost of\nshoe leather and ammunition?\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE LADY AND HER LAP-DOG.\n\n\nThe following scene occurred at the high-level Crystal Palace line:--\"A\nnewspaper correspondent was amused at the indignation of a lady against\nthe porters who interfered to prevent her taking her dog into the\ncarriage.  The lady argued that Parliament had compelled the companies to\nfind separate carriages for smokers, and they ought to be further\ncompelled to have a separate carriage for ladies with lap-dogs, and it\nwas perfectly scandalous that they should be separated, and a valuable\ndog, worth perhaps thirty or forty guineas, should be put into a dog\ncompartment.  I have some of the B stock of the railway, upon which not a\npenny has ever been paid, and I could not help comparing my experience of\nthis particular line of railway with that of my fellow-traveller, and\nwondering what sort of a train that would be which would provide\naccommodation for all the wants and wishes of railway travellers.\"\n\n\n\n\nWHAT IS PASSENGERS' LUGGAGE?\n\n\nA gentleman removing took with him on the Great Western railway articles\nconsisting of six pairs of blankets, six pairs of sheets, and six\ncounterpanes, valued at 16 pounds, belonging to his household furniture.\nThey were in a box, which was put in the luggage van and lost.  The\nquestion at law was whether these articles came within the definition,\n\"ordinary passengers' luggage,\" for which, if lost, the passenger could\nclaim damages from the Company.\n\nThe judges of the Court of Queen's Bench sitting in Banco have decided\nthat such is not personal luggage.\n\n\"Now,\" (said the Lord Chief Justice) \"although we are far from saying\nthat a pair of sheets or the like taken by a passenger for his use on a\njourney might not fairly be considered as personal luggage, it appears to\nus that a quantity of articles of that description intended, not for the\nuse of the traveller on the journey, but for the use of his household,\nwhen permanently settled, cannot be held to be so.\"\n\n                            --_Herepath's Railway Journal_, Jan. 10, 1871.\n\n\n\n\nCONVERSION OF THE GAUGE.\n\n\nThe conversion of the gauge on the South Wales section of the Great\nWestern railway in 1872 was of the heaviest description, the period of\nlabour lasting from seventeen to eighteen hours a day for several\nsuccessive days.  It was the greatest work of its kind, and nothing\nexactly like it will ever be done in England again.  The lines of rail to\nbe connected would have made about 400 miles in single length, the number\nof men employed was about 1500; and the time taken was two weeks nearly.\nOatmeal and barley water was made into a thin gruel and given to the men\nas required.  It was the only drink taken during the day.  I had not a\nsingle case of drunkenness or illness.  I have often heard these men\nspeak with great approbation of the supporting power of oatmeal drink.\n\n                                               --_J. W. Armstrong_, _C.E._\n\n\n\n\nFOURTH-OF-JULY FACTS.\n\n\nAt a banquet in Paris attended by Americans in celebration of the late\nFourth of July, Mr. Walker's speech in reply to the toast of the material\nprosperity of the United States and France, and the establishment of\ncloser commercial relations between them, was especially striking and\ninteresting.  He remarked, \"In 1870 the cost of transporting food and\nmerchandise between the Western and Eastern States was from a\ncent-and-a-half to two cents a ton a mile.  I well remember a\nconversation which I had in 1870 or 1871 with Mr. William B. Ogden, of\nChicago, one of the modest railway kings of that primitive period.  In a\nvein of sanguine prophecy, Mr. Ogden exclaimed to me, 'Mr. Walker, you\nwill live to see freight brought from Chicago to New York at a cent a ton\na mile!'  'Perhaps so,' I replied; 'but I fear this result will not be\nreached in my time.'  In 1877 or 1878 the cost had fallen to\nthree-eighths of a cent a ton a mile, and although this price was not\nremunerative, I was told by one of the highest authorities in railway\nmatters that five-eighths of a cent would be perfectly satisfactory.  The\neffect of this reduction in the cost of transportation is precisely as\nthough the unexhaustible grain fields and pastures across the Mississippi\nhad been moved bodily eastward to the longitude of Ohio and Western New\nYork.  It is estimated that it takes a quarter of a ton of bread and meat\nto feed a grown man in Massachusetts for a year.  The bread and meat come\nto him from the far west, and I have no doubt that it will astonish you\nto be told, as it lately astonished me, that a single day of this man's\nlabour, even if it be of the commonest sort, will pay for transporting\nhis year's subsistence for a thousand miles.\"\n\n\n\n\nTAY BRIDGE ACCIDENT.\n\n\nDec. 28, 1879.  A fearful disaster occurred in Scotland.  As the train\nfrom Edinburgh to Dundee was crossing the bridge, two miles in length,\nwhich spans the mouth of the Tay, a terrible hurricane struck the bridge,\nabout four hundred yards of which was, with the train, dashed into the\nsea below.  About seventy persons were in the train, of whom not one\nescaped, nor, when the divers were able to descend, could a single body\nbe found in the carriages, or among the bridge girders, and some days\nelapsed before any were recovered.  No conclusive evidence could be\nproduced to show whether the train was blown off the rails and so dragged\nthe girders down, or whether the bridge was blown away and the train ran\ninto the chasm thus made.  The night was intensely dark, and the wind\nmore violent than had ever been known in the country.\n\n                                                  _Annual Register_, 1879.\n\n\n\n\nAN EXTRAORDINARY WAIF.\n\n\nThe following is a translation from the Norwegian newspaper\n_Morgenbledet_, dated Feb. 20th:--\"By private letter from Utsue, an\nisland on the western coast of Norway, is communicated to Dapposten the\nintelligence that on the 12th inst. some fishermen pulled on the Firth to\nhaul their nets, and had hardly finished their labour when they sighted\nan extraordinary object some distance further out.  The superstitious\nfears of sea monsters which have been written a good deal about lately\nheld them back for some time, but their curiosity made them approach the\nsupposed sea monster, and, to their great surprise, they found that it\nwas something like a building.  As the sea was calm they immediately\ncommenced to tow it to shore, where it was hauled up on the beach, and\nwas then found to be a damaged railway wagon.  The wheels were off, the\nwindows smashed, and one door hanging on its hinges.  By the name on it,\n\"Edinburgh and Glasgow Railway,\" it was at once surmised that it must\nhave been one of the wagons separated from the train which met with the\ndisaster on the Tay Bridge.  In the carriage was a portmanteau containing\ngarments, some of them marked 'P.B.'  The wagon was sent, on the 14th, to\nHangesund, to be forwarded thence to Bergen.\"\n\n\n\n\nA RAILWAY SLEEPER.\n\n\nA railway pointsman, caught napping at his post and convicted of wilful\nnegligence, said to the gaoler who was about to lock him up, \"I always\nsupposed that the safety of a railroad depended on the soundness of its\nsleepers?\"  \"So it does,\" replied the gaoler, \"but such sleepers are\nnever safe unless they are bolted in.\"\n\n\n\n\nNOT TO BE CAUGHT.\n\n\nThe following incident is said to have occurred on the North London\nRailway:--Some time ago a passenger remarked, in the hearing of one of\nthe company's servants, how easy it was to \"do\" the company, and said, \"I\noften travel from Broad Street to Dalston Junction without a\nticket--anyone can do it--I did it yesterday.\"  When he alighted he was\nfollowed by the official, who asked him how it was done.  For a\nconsideration he agreed to tell him.  This being given, \"Now,\" said the\ninquirer, \"how did you go from Broad Street to Dalston Junction yesterday\nwithout a ticket?\"  \"Oh,\" was the reply, \"I walked.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE DOCTOR AND THE OFFICERS.\n\n\nThe following is rather a good story from the Emerald Isle:--A doctor and\nhis wife got into a train near--well, we will not say where.  In the same\ncarriage with the doctor were two strange officers.  The doctor's wife\ngot into another compartment of the same train, the doctor not having\nseen his wife in the hurry, neither knew that they were travelling by the\nsame train until both had got into different carriages.  Said one of the\nofficers to his companion, \"That is the ugliest woman I ever saw.\"  \"She\nis,\" replied the Son of Mars.  \"I should not like to be obliged to kiss\nher,\" responded the first speaker.  \"I should not mind doing it,\"\nsullenly said the doctor.  \"You never would, sir, think of such a thing,\"\nsaid the officer.  \"I'll bet you a sovereign I will,\" answered the man of\n\"pills and potions.\"  \"Done,\" said the officer.  So when they all got out\nat the station, the doctor went forward and kissed his wife, and won his\nsovereign--the easiest-earned fee he had ever received.  The officers\nlooked rather astonished when he presented his wife to them.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOTHERED QUEEN'S COUNSEL.\n\n\nMr. Merewether, Q.C., got into the train one morning with a whole batch\nof briefs and a talkative companion.  He wanted to go through his briefs,\nbut his companion would not let him work.  He tried silence, he tried\ngrunting, he tried sarcasm.  At length, when they came to Hanwell, the\ngossip hit upon the unfortunate remark, \"How well the asylum looks from\nthe railway!\"  \"Pray, sir,\" replied Mr. Merewether, \"how does the railway\nlook from the asylum?\"  The man was silent.\n\n\n\n\nA BRAVE ENGINE DRIVER.\n\n\nAn American contemporary says:--\"John Bull, of Galion (Ohio), ought to\nhave his name recorded in an enduring way, for few have ever behaved so\nnobly as that engine driver of the New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio\nrailroad.  As he was driving a passenger train last month he found that,\nthrough somebody's blunder, a freight train was approaching on the same\ntrack, and a collision was inevitable.  He could have saved his own life\nby leaping from the engine, but, dismissing all thoughts of himself, he\nresolved to try and save the passengers committed to his care.  So he\nreversed the engine and set the air-brakes, and then put on full steam,\nstarted the locomotive ahead, broke the coupling attached to the train,\nand dashed on to receive the shock of the collision.  The passengers\nescaped all injury, while the brave engineer was so badly hurt that he\ndied in a few hours.  Such heroism as this should not go unnoticed.\"  The\n_Cincinnati Inquirer_ says: \"He remained in the car until the engine\nleaped into the air and was dashed into the ditch, when he attempted to\nspring to the ground, but had his foot caught between the frames of the\nengine and tender, striking his head on the ground and causing the fatal\ninjuries.  Railroad men say that the act of detaching the engine as he\ndid, not even derailing the baggage car with his engine at the high rate\nof speed, and all in 150 feet, is without parallel in railroading.  A\npurse of 500 dollars was raised by the grateful passengers.  The body has\nbeen shipped to Galion for burial.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN INDUSTRIOUS BISHOP.\n\n\nIn noticing the \"Life of the Rt. Rev. Samuel Wilberforce, D.D., Lord\nBishop of Oxford, and afterwards of Winchester,\" a writer in the\n_Athenaeum_ remarks:--\"Busy he was, both in Oxford and in London, and his\ncorrespondence with all kinds of people was unusually large.  A large\nproportion of his letters were written in the railway train, and dated\nfrom 'near' this town, or 'between' this and that.  We remember to have\nheard from one who was his companion in a railway carriage that before\nthe journey was half-finished the adjoining seat was littered with\nenvelopes of letters which he had read, and with the answers he had\nwritten since he started.  All this undeniably shows energy and\ndetermination, and power to work.\"\n\n\n\n\nCOOL IMPUDENCE AND DISHONESTY.\n\n\nSome days since, the trains of the North London Railway were all late,\nand consequently every platform was crowded.  At one of the stations an\nunfortunate passenger attempted to enter an already over-crowded\nfirst-class compartment, but one of the occupants stoutly resisted the\nintrusion.  Thereupon, the unfortunate one said, \"I will soon settle\nthis,\" and called the guard to the carriage door.  He then requested the\nofficial to ask two of the occupants to produce their tickets, which\nproved to be third-class ones.  In spite of the delinquents protesting\nthere was no room in the train elsewhere, they were ejected, and the\nunfortunate one took their place.  The other passengers were naturally\nrather indignant; and, seeing this, the successful intruder quietly said,\n\"I am very sorry to have had to turn those two gentlemen out, especially\nas I have heard them say they were already late for an important\nengagement in the city; and I am all the more sorry, seeing that I only\nhold a third-class ticket myself.\"\n\n                                                                --_Truth_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE BOOKING-CLERK AND BUCKLAND.\n\n\nMr. Frank Buckland had been in France and was returning via Southampton,\nwith an overcoat stuffed with natural history specimens of all sorts,\ndead and alive.  Among them was a monkey, which was domiciled in a large\ninside breast-pocket.  As Buckland was taking his ticket, Jocko thrust up\nhis head and attracted the attention of the booking-clerk, who\nimmediately--and very properly--said, \"You must take a ticket for that\ndog, if it's going with you.\"  \"Dog,\" said Buckland, \"it's no dog, it's a\nmonkey.\"  \"It is a dog,\" replied the clerk.  \"It's a monkey,\" retorted\nBuckland, and proceeded to show the whole animal, but without convincing\nthe clerk, who insisted on five shillings for the dog-ticket to London.\nNettled at this, Buckland plunged his hand into another pocket and\nproduced a tortoise, and laying it on the sill of the ticket window said,\n\"Perhaps you'll call that a dog too.\"  The clerk inspected the tortoise.\n\"No,\" said he, \"we make no charge for them--they're insects.\"\n\n\n\n\nREMARKABLE RESCUE OF A CHILD.\n\n\nAn engineer on a locomotive going across the western prairie day after\nday, saw a little child come out in front of a cabin and wave to him, so\nhe got in the habit of waving back to the child, and it was the day's joy\nto see this little one come out in front of the cabin door and wave to\nhim while he answered back.  One day the train was belated, and it came\non to the dusk of the evening.  As the engineer stood at his post he saw\nby the headlight that little girl on the track, wondering why the train\ndid not come, looking for the train, knowing nothing of her peril.  A\ngreat horror seized upon the engineer.  He reversed the engine.  He gave\nit in charge of the other man, and then he climbed over the engine, and\nhe came down on the cowcatcher.  He said though he had reversed the\nengine, it seemed as though it were going at lightning speed, faster and\nfaster, though it was really slowing up, and with almost supernatural\nclutch he caught the child by the hair and lifted it up, and when the\ntrain stopped, and the passengers gathered around to see what was the\nmatter, there the old engineer lay, fainted dead away, the little child\nalive and in his swarthy arms.\n\n\n\n\nFEMALE FRAGILITY.\n\n\nThere was a time when American women prided themselves on their\nfragility.  To be healthy, strong or plump was thought to be the height\nof vulgarity, and refinement was held to be inseparable from leanness and\nconsumption.  These views still obtain--so it is said--in Boston, and\nespecially in Bostonian literary circles; but elsewhere the American\nwoman is growing plump and healthy, and is actually proud of it.  While\nwise men are heartily glad of this change in female sentiment and tissue,\nit must be admitted that there is one form of feminine fragility which\nhas its value.  There is a rare condition of the bony system in which the\nbones are so fragile that the slightest blow is sufficient to break them.\nA baby thus afflicted cannot be handled, even by the most experienced\nmother, without danger; and a man with fragile bones is so liable to be\nbroken, that there is sometimes no safety for him outside of a glass\ncase.  The late Mrs. Baker--for that was her latest name--was not so\nfragile that she could not be handled by a careful man, but still a very\nlight blow would usually break her.  She did not share the Bostonian\nopinion of the vulgarity of strength, but she was, nevertheless, very\nproud of her fragility, and by its aid her husband managed to amass a\ncomfortable fortune within three years after their marriage.  She is\nperhaps the only fragile woman on record of whom it can be said that her\nwhole value consisted in her fragility, but, as her story shows, her\nfragility was the sole capital invested in her husband's business.  In\nJanuary, 1870, Mrs. Baker--then a single woman, as to whose maiden name\nthere is some uncertainty--was married to Mr. Wheelwright--James G.\nWheelwright, of Worcester, Mass.  Her husband married her on account of\nher well-known fragility, but he treated her with such kindness that in\nthe whole course of their married life he never once broke her, even by\naccident.  In February, 1870, the Wheelwrights removed to Utica, N.Y.,\nand one day Mr. Wheelwright took his wife to the railway station, and had\nher break her leg in a small hole on the platform.  He at once sued the\nrailway company for 10,000 dols., being the value set by himself on his\nwife's leg, and ten days afterwards accepted 5,000 dols. as a compromise,\nand withdrew the suit The Wheelwrights left Utica in June, 1870, and in\nthe following August the dutiful Mrs. Wheelwright, who now called herself\nMrs. Thomas, broke her other leg in a hole in the platform of the railway\nstation at Pittsburg.  Again her husband sued the railway company for\n15,000 dols., and compromised for 6,500 dols.  The leg was mended\nsuccessfully, and in July, 1871, we find the Thomases, now passing under\nthe name of Mr. and Mrs. Smiley, at Cincinnati, where Mr. Smiley, after\nlong searching, discovered a piece of ragged and uneven sidewalk, upon\nwhich his wife made a point of falling and breaking her right arm.  This\ntime the city was sued for 15,000 dols., and Mr. Smiley proved that his\nwife was a school teacher by profession, and that the breaking of her arm\nrendered it impossible for her to teach, for there as on that she could\nnot wield a rod or even a slipper.  The city paid the 15,000 dols. and\nthe Smileys, having by honest industry thus made 26,500 dols., removed to\nChicago, and entered their names on the hotel register as Mr. and Mrs.\nMcGinnis, of Portland, Me.  On the second day after their arrival at the\nhotel, Mr. McGinnis found an eligible place on the piazza for Mrs.\nMcGinnis to break another leg, which that excellent woman promptly did.\nThe usual suit of 15,000 dols. was brought, and the hotel-keeper, fearing\nthat the notoriety of the suit would injure his hotel, was glad to\ncompromise by paying 8,000 dols.  By this time, it is understood, Mrs.\nMcGinnis was willing to retire from business, but her husband had set his\nheart on making 50,000 dols., and like a good wife she consented to break\nsome more bones.  It should be said that there was very little pain\nattending a fracture of any one of the lady's bones, and that she did not\nin the least mind the monotony of lying in bed while the broken bones\nknitted themselves together.  There can, therefore, be no charge of\ncruelty brought against her husband.  Indeed, she herself entered with a\nhearty goodwill into the scheme of making a living with her bones, and\nwould go out to break a leg with as much cheerfulness as if she was going\nto a theatre.  In March, 1872, Mrs. Wilkins--hitherto known as Mr.\nMcGinnis--walked into an open trench in a street in St. Louis and broke\nanother leg.  This time the suit brought by Mr. Wilkins against the city\ndid not succeed, and the inquiries which were put on foot as to the\nantecedents of the Wilkinses fairly frightened them out of the city.\nThey turned up a month later in Detroit, where the weather was still\ncold, and much snow had recently fallen.  There were still 16,000 dollars\nto be made before the industrious pair would have the whole of their\ndesired 50,000 dollars, and it was decided that Mrs. Wilkins--who had\nchanged her name to Mrs. Baker--should fall on the icy pavement and break\nboth arms.  This, it was estimated, would be worth at least 8,000 dols.,\nand it was hoped that the subsequent judicious breakage of two legs on\nthe premises of a Canadian railway would bring in 8,000 dols. more, after\nwhich the Bakers intended to retire from business.  Early one morning Mr.\nBaker took his wife out and had her fall on a nice piece of ice, where\nshe broke both arms.  Unfortunately, she fell more heavily than was\nnecessary, and, in addition, broke her neck and instantly expired.  The\ngrief of Mr. Baker naturally knew no bounds, and he sued for 25,000\ndols., all of which he recovered.  He had thus made 59,500 dols. by the\naid of his fragile wife, and demonstrated that as a source of steady\nincome a woman who breaks easily is almost priceless.  Still, nothing\ncould console him for the loss of his beloved partner, and he is to-day a\nlonely and unhappy man.\n\n                                                       --_New York Times_.\n\n\n\n\nTAKING HIM DOWN A PEG.\n\n\nA guard of a railway train, upon the late occasion of a _hitch_, which\ndetained the passengers for some time, gave himself so much importance in\ncommanding them, that one old gentleman took the wind out of his sails by\ncalling him to the carriage door, and saying, \"May I take the liberty,\nsir, of asking you what occupation you filled previous to being a railway\nguard?\"\n\n\n\n\nA REMARKABLE NOTICE.\n\n\nOn a certain railway, the following notice appeared:--\"Hereafter, when\ntrains moving in opposite directions are approaching each other on\nseparate lines, conductors and engineers will be required to bring their\nrespective trains to a dead halt before the point of meeting, and be very\ncareful not to proceed till each train has passed the other.\"\n\n\n\n\nFLUTTER CAUSED BY THE MURDER OF MR. BRIGGS.\n\n\nMy vocations led me to travel almost daily on one of the Great Eastern\nlines--the Woodford Branch.  Every one knows that Muller perpetrated his\ndetestable act on the North London Railway, close by.  The English middle\nclass, of which I am myself a feeble unit, travel on the Woodford branch\nin large numbers.  Well, the demoralization of our class,--which (the\nnewspapers are constantly saying it, so I may repeat it without vanity)\nhas done all the great things which have ever been done in England,--the\ndemoralization of our class caused, I say, by the Bow tragedy, was\nsomething bewildering.  Myself a transcendentalist (as the _Saturday\nReview_ knows), I escaped the infection; and day after day I used to ply\nmy agitated fellow-travellers with all the consolations which my\ntranscendentalism and my turn for French would naturally suggest to me.\nI reminded them how Julius Caesar refused to take precautions against\nassassination, because life was not worth having at the price of an\nignoble solicitude for it.  I reminded them what insignificant atoms we\nall are in the life of the world.  Suppose the worse to happen, I said,\naddressing a portly jeweller from Cheapside,--suppose even yourself to be\nthe victim, _il n'y a pas d'homme necessaire_.  We should miss you for a\nday or two on the Woodford Branch; but the great mundane movement would\nstill go on, the gravel walks of your villa would still be rolled,\ndividends would still be paid at the bank, omnibuses would still run,\nthere would still be the old crush at the corner of Fenchurch street.\nAll was of no avail.  Nothing could moderate in the bosom of the great\nEnglish middle class their passionate, absorbing, almost blood-thirsty\nclinging to life.\n\n                                 --Matthew Arnold's _Essays in Criticism_.\n\n\n\n\nAN EXTRAORDINARY BLUNDER.\n\n\nA correspondent, writing from Amelia les Bains, says:--A very singular\nblunder was committed the other day by the officials of a railway station\nbetween Prepignan and Toulon.  A gentleman who had been spending the\nwinter here with his family, left last week for Marseilles, taking with\nhim the body of his mother-in-law, who died six weeks ago, and who had\nexpressed a wish to be buried in the family vault at Marseilles.  When he\nreached Marseilles and went with the commissioner of police--whose\npresence is required upon these occasions--to receive the body from the\nrailway officials, he noticed to his great surprise that the coffin was\nof a different shape and construction from that which he had brought from\nhere.  It turned out upon further inquiry that a mistake had been\ncommitted by the officials, who had sent on to Toulon the coffin\ncontaining his mother-in-law's body, believing that it held the remains\nof a deceased admiral, which was to be embarked for interment in Algeria,\nwhile the coffin awaiting delivery was the one which should have been\nsent on.  The gentleman who was placed in this awkward predicament,\nhaving requested the railway officials to communicate at once with Toulon\nby telegraph, proceeded thither himself with the coffin of the admiral,\nbut the intimation had arrived too late.  He ascertained when he got\nthere that the first coffin had been duly received, taken on board, amid\n\"the thunder of fort and of fleet,\" the state vessel which was waiting\nfor it, and despatched to Algeria.  He at once called upon the maritime\nprefect of Toulon, and explained the circumstances of the case, but\nthough a despatch-boat was sent in pursuit, the other vessel was not\novertaken.  He is now at Toulon awaiting her return, and I believe that\nhe declines to give up the coffin containing the deceased admiral until\nhe regains possession of his mother-in-law's remains.\n\n\n\n\nA CURIOUS RACE.\n\n\nIn July, 1877, a carrier-pigeon tried conclusions with a railway train.\nThe bird was a Belgian voyageur, bred at Woolwich, and \"homed\" to a house\nin Cannon Street, City.  The train was the Continental mail-express timed\nnot to stop between Dover and Cannon Street Station.  The pigeon,\nconveying an urgent message from the French police, was tossed through\nthe railway carriage window as the train moved from the Admiralty Pier,\nthe wind being west, the atmosphere hazy, but the sun shining.  For more\nthan a minute the bird circled round till it attained an altitude of\nabout half-a-mile, and then it sailed away Londonwards.  By this time the\nengine had got full steam on, and the train was tearing away at the rate\nof sixty miles an hour; but the carrier was more than a match for it.\nTaking a line midway between Maidstone and Sittingbourne, it reached home\ntwenty minutes before the express dashed into the station; the train\nhaving accomplished seventy-six-and-a-half miles to the pigeon's seventy,\nbut being badly beaten for all that.\n\n                                                   --_All the Year Round_.\n\n\n\n\nA GREENLANDER'S FIRST RAILWAY RIDE.\n\n\nHans Hendrik, a native of Greenland, thus describes his first journey by\nrail in America:--\"Then our train arrived and we took seats in it.  When\nwe had started and looked at the ground, it appeared like a river, making\nus dizzy, and the trembling of the carriage might give you headache.  In\nthis way we proceeded, and whenever we approached houses they gave\nwarning by making big whistle sound, and on arriving at the houses they\nrung a bell and we stopped for a little while.  By the way we entered a\nlong cave through the earth, used as a road, and soon after we emerged\nfrom it again.  At length we reached our goal, and entered a large\nmansion, in which numbers of people crowded together.\"  He likens the\npeople going out of the railway-station to a \"crowd of church-goers, on\naccount of their number.\"\n\n                                              --_Good Words_, April, 1880.\n\n\n\n\nA NOVEL ACTION.\n\n\nWill bad table manners vitiate legal grounds of action?  A collision\nrecently occurred while an Italian commercial traveller was eating a\nBologna sausage in a railway train.  The shock of the collision drove the\nknife so violently against his mouth as to widen it.  He brought suit for\ndamages.  The defence was that the injuries were caused by the knife;\nthat the knife should never be carried to the mouth, and that the\nplaintiff, having injured himself by reason of his bad habit of eating,\nmust take the consequences and pay his own doctor's bill.  The case is\nnot yet finally decided.\n\n                                                --_Echo_, Oct. 1st., 1880.\n\n\n\n\nA KISS IN THE DARK.\n\n\nOn one of the seats in a railway train was a married lady with a little\ndaughter; opposite, facing them, was another child, a son, and a <DW52>\n\"lady\" with a baby.  The mother of these children was a beautiful matron\nwith sparkling eyes, in exuberant health and vivacious spirits.  Near her\nsat a young lieutenant, dressed to kill and seeking a victim.  He scraped\nup an acquaintance with the mother by attentions to the children.  It was\nnot long before he was essaying to make himself very agreeable to her,\nand by the time the sun began to decline, one would have thought they\nwere old familiar friends.  The lieutenant felt that he had made an\nimpression--his elation manifested it.  The lady, dreaming of no wrong,\nsuspecting no evil, was apparently pleased with her casual acquaintance.\nBy-and-by the train approached a tunnel.  The gay lieutenant leaned over\nand whispered something in the lady's ear.  It was noticed that she\nappeared as thunderstruck, and her eyes immediately flamed with\nindignation.  A moment more and a smile lighted up her features.  What\nchanges?  That smile was not one of pleasure, but was sinister.  It was\nunperceived by the lieutenant.  She made him a reply which apparently\nrejoiced him very much.  For the understanding properly this narrative,\nwe must tell the reader what was whispered and what was replied.  \"I mean\nto kiss you when we get into the tunnel!\" whispered the lieutenant.  \"It\nwill be dark; who will see it?\" replied the lady.  Into earth's\nbowels--into the tunnel ran the train.  Lady and  nurse quickly\nchange seats.  Gay lieutenant threw his arms around the lady sable,\npressed her cheek to his, and fast and furious rained kisses on her lips.\nIn a few moments the train came out into broad daylight.  White lady\nlooked amazed--<DW52> lady, bashful, blushing--gay lieutenant befogged.\n\"Jane,\" said the white lady, \"what have you been doing?\"  \"Nothing!\"\nresponded the <DW52> lady.  \"Yes, you have,\" said the white lady, not\nin an undertone, but in a voice that attracted the attention of all in\nthe carriage.  \"See how your collar is rumpled and your bonnet smashed.\"\nJane, poor  beauty, hung her head for a moment, the \"observed of\nall observers,\" and then, turning round to the lieutenant, replied:\n\"_This man kissed me in the tunnel_!\"  Loud and long was the laugh that\nfollowed among the passengers.  The white lady enjoyed the joke\namazingly.  Lieutenant looked like a sheep-stealing dog, left the\ncarriage at the next station, and was seen no more.\n\n                                                           --_Cape Argus_.\n\n\n\n\nTHE GRAVEDIGGER'S SUGGESTION.\n\n\nThe Midland Railway, on being extended to London, was the occasion of the\nremoval of a vast amount of house property, also it interfered to a\ncertain extent with the graveyard belonging to Old St. Pancras Church.\nThe company had purchased a new piece of ground in which to re-inter the\nhuman remains discovered in the part they required.  Amongst them was the\ncorpse of a high dignitary of the French Romish Church.  Orders were\nreceived for the transmission of the remains to his native land, and the\ndelicate work of exhuming the corpse was entrusted to some clever\ngravediggers.  On opening the ground they were surprised to find, not\nbones of one man, but of several.  Three skulls and three sets of bones\nwere yielded by the soil in which they had lain mouldering.  The\ndifficulty was how to identify the bones of a French ecclesiastic amid so\nmany.  After much discussion, the shrewdest gravedigger suggested that,\nbeing a Frenchman, the darkest  skull must be his.  Acting upon\nthis idea, the blackest bones were sorted and put together, until the\nrequisite number of rights and lefts were obtained.  These were\nreverently screwed up in a new coffin, conveyed to France, and buried\nwith all the pomp and circumstance of the Roman Catholic Church.\n\n\n\n\nAN AMUSING INCIDENT.\n\n\nAn American correspondent writes:--\"I have just finished reading a most\namusing incident, and, as it occurs in a book not likely to fall into the\nhands of many of the members, I am tempted to relate it, although it\nmight prove to be 'stale.'  Well, to begin: It tells of a maiden lady,\nwho, having arrived at the mature age of 51 without ever having seen a\nrailway train, decides to visit New York.  The all-important day having\narrived, she seats herself calmly on the platform of the country station,\nand gazes with amazement as the train draws up, takes on its passengers,\nand pursues its journey.  As she stares after it the stationmaster asks\nher why she did not get on if she wishes to go to New York.  'Get on,'\nsays Miss Polly, in surprise, 'get on!  Why, bless me, if I didn't think\nthis whole concern went!'  Being placed on the next train, she proceeds\non her way, when, finally, having seen so many wonderful things, she\nconcluded not to be astonished, whatever may happen.  A collision occurs\nand the gentleman next to her is thrown to the end of the car among a\nheap of broken seats.  She supposes it to be the usual manner of\nstopping, and quietly remarks: 'Ye fetch up rather sudden, don't ye?'\"\n\n\n\n\nA LITTLE BOY'S COOLNESS.\n\n\nThe suit of William O'Connor against the Boston and Lowell Railroad at\nLawrence has resulted in a verdict for the plaintiff in $10,000, one-half\nthe amount sued for.  This suit grew out of an accident which occurred\nAugust 27th, 1880.  The plaintiff was the father of a child then between\nfive and six years old.  He and his brother, three years older, were\ncrossing a private way maintained by the railroad for the Essex Company,\nand the younger boy, while walking backward, stepped between the rail and\nplanking of the roadway inside and was unable to extricate his foot.  At\nthat moment the whistle of a train was heard within a few hundred feet\nand out of sight around a curve, and it appeared from the evidence that\nthe older brother, finding himself unable to relieve his brother, ran\ndown the track toward the train; but finding that he could not attract\nthe attention of the trainmen to his brother's condition, and that he\nmust be run over, ran back to him, and, telling him to lie down, pulled\nhim outward and down and held him there until the train had passed.  Both\nfeet of the little fellow were cut off or mangled so that amputation was\nnecessary.  The theory of the defence was that the boy was not caught,\nbut while running across the track, fell and was run over.  But the\ntestimony of the older brother was unshaken in every particular.  It\nwould be difficult to match the nerve, thoughtfulness, and disregard of\nself displayed by this boy, who at that time was less than nine years\nold.\n\n\n\n\nPHOTOGRAPHING AN EXPRESS TRAIN.\n\n\nAn interesting application of the instantaneous method of photography was\nrecently made by a firm of photographers at Henley-on-Thames.  These\nartists were successful in photographing the Great Western Railway\nexpress train familiarly known as the \"Flying Dutchman,\" while running\nthrough Twyford station at a speed of nearly sixty miles an hour.  The\ndefinition of this lightning-like picture is truly wonderful, the details\nof the mechanism on the flying locomotive standing out as sharply as the\nimmovable telegraph posts and palings beside the line.  The photographers\nare now engaged, we believe, in constructing a swift shutter for their\ncamera which will reduce the period of exposure of the photographic plate\nto 1-500th of a second.  The same artists have also executed some\ncharming pictures of the upper Thames, with floating swans and moving\nboats, which cannot but win the admiration of artists and all lovers of\nthe picturesque.\n\n                                 --_Cassell's Family Magazine_, Nov. 1880.\n\n\n\n\nNERVOUSNESS.\n\n\nSurely people are far more _nervous_ now than they used to be some\ngenerations back.  The mental cultivation and the mental wear which we\nhave to go through tends to make that strange and inexplicable portion of\nour physical construction a very great deal too sensitive for the work\nand trial of daily life.  A few days ago I drove a friend who had been\npaying us a visit over to our railway station.  He is a man of fifty, a\nremarkably able and accomplished man.  Before the train started, the\nguard came round to look at the tickets.  My friend could not find his;\nhe searched his pockets everywhere, and although the entire evil\nconsequence, had the ticket not turned up, could not possibly have been\nmore than the payment a second time of four or five shillings, he got\ninto a nervous tremor painful to see.  He shook from head to foot; his\nhand trembled so that he could not prosecute his search rightly, and\nfinally he found the missing ticket in a pocket which he had already\nsearched half-a-dozen times.  Now contrast the condition of this\nhighly-civilized man, thrown into a painful flurry and confusion at the\ndemand of a railway ticket, with the impassive coolness of a savage, who\nwould not move a muscle if you hacked him in pieces.\n\n                                                    --_Fraser's Magazine_.\n\n\n\n\nA PROFITABLE RAILWAY.\n\n\nThe shortest and most profitable railway in the world is probably to be\nseen at Coney Island, the famous suburban summer resort of New York.\nThis is the \"Marine Railway,\" which connects the Manhattan Beach Hotel\nand the Brighton Beach Hotel.  It is 2,000 feet in length, is laid with\nsteel rails, and has a handsome little station at each end.  Its\nequipment consists of two locomotives and four cars, open at the sides,\nand having reversible seats; and a train of two cars is run each way\nevery five minutes.  The cost of this miniature road, including stations\nand equipment, was 27,000 dols., and it paid for itself in a few weeks\nafter it was opened for business.  The operating expenses are 30 dols. a\nday, and the average receipts are 450 dols. a day the entire season, 900\ndols. being sometime taken in.  The fare charged is five cents.  The\nproperty paid a profit last year of 500 dols. per cent on its cost.\n\n\n\n\nTHE POLITE BRAHMIN.\n\n\nOwing to the various dialects in the South of India, as a matter of\nconvenience the English language is much used for personal communication\nby the natives of different parts of the Presidency of Madras.  Mr.\nEdward Lear, who has travelled much in that part of the country, gives\nthe following interesting account of a journey:--\"I was in a second-class\nrailway carriage going from Madras to Bangalore.  There was only one\nother passenger beside myself and servant, and he was a Brahmin, dressed\nall in white, with the string worn over the shoulder, by which you may\nalways recognise a Brahmin.  He had a great many boxes and small\narticles, which took up a great deal of room in the compartment, and when\nat the next station the door was opened for another passenger to get in,\nthe guard said:--\n\n\"'You cannot have all those boxes inside the carriage; some of them must\nbe taken out.'\n\n\"'Oh, sir,' said the Brahmin in good English, 'I assure you these\narticles are by no means necessary to my comfort, and I hope you will not\nhesitate to dispose of them as you please.'\n\n\"Accordingly, therefore, the boxes were taken away.  Then the newcomer\nstepped in; he was also a native, but dressed in quite a different manner\nfrom the Brahmin, his clothing being blue, green, red, and all the\ncolours of the rainbow, so that one saw at once the two persons were from\ndifferent parts of India.  Presently he surprised me by saying to the\nBrahmin,\n\n\"'Pray, sir, excuse me for having given you the trouble of removing any\npart of your luggage; I am really quite sorry to have given you any\ninconvenience whatever.'\n\n\"To which the Brahmin replied, 'I beg sir, you will make no apologies; it\nis impossible you can have incommoded me by causing the removal of those\ntrifling articles; and, even if you have done so, the pleasure of your\nsociety would afford me perfect compensation.'\"\n\n\n\n\nMR. FRANK BUCKLAND AND HIS BOOTS.\n\n\nMr. Spencer Walpole furnishes some interesting and amusing gossip about\nthe late Mr. Frank Buckland, describing some of his many eccentricities,\nand telling many stories relative to his peculiar habits.  He had, it\nseems, a great objection to stockings and boots and coats, his favourite\nattire consisting of nothing else than trousers and a flannel shirt.\nBoots were his special aversion, and he never lost an opportunity of\nkicking them off his feet.\n\n\"On one occasion,\" we are told, \"travelling alone in a railway carriage,\nhe fell asleep with his feet resting on the window-sill.  As usual, he\nkicked off his boots, and they fell outside the carriage on the line.\nWhen he reached his destination the boots could not, of course, be found,\nand he had to go without them to his hotel.  The next morning a\nplatelayer, examining the permanent way, came upon the boots, and\nreported to the traffic manager that he had found a pair of gentleman's\nboots, but that he could not find the gentleman.  Some one connected with\nthe railway recollected that Mr. Buckland had been seen in the\nneighbourhood, and, knowing his eccentricities, inferred that the boots\nmust belong to him.  They were accordingly sent to the Home Office, and\nwere at once claimed.\"\n\n\n\n\nDRINKING FROM THE WRONG BOTTLE.\n\n\nAn incident has occurred on one of the suburban lines which will\ncertainly be supposed by many to be only _ben trovato_, but it is a real\nfact.  A lady, who seemed perfectly well before the train entered a\ntunnel, suddenly alarmed her fellow-passengers during the temporary\ndarkness by exclaiming, \"I am poisoned!\"  On re-emerging into daylight,\nan awkward explanation ensued.  The lady carried with her two bottles,\none of methylated spirit, the other of cognac.  Wishing, presumably, for\na refresher on the sly, she took advantage of the gloom; but she applied\nthe wrong bottle to her lips.  Time pressed, and she took a good drain.\nThe consequence was she was nearly poisoned, and had to apply herself\nhonestly and openly to the brandy bottle as a corrective, amidst the\nironical condolence of the passengers she had previously alarmed.\n\n                                                          --_Once a Week_.\n\n\n\n\nHORSES VERSUS RAILWAYS.\n\n\nA horse for every mile of road was the allowance made by the best\ncoachmasters on the great routes.  On the corresponding portions of the\nrailway system the great companies have put a locomotive engine per mile.\nIf a horse earned a hundred guineas a year, out of which his cost had to\nbe defrayed, he did well.  A single locomotive on the Great Northern\nRailway (and that company has 611 engines for 659 miles of line) was\nstated by John Robinson, in 1873, to perform the work of 678\nhorses--work, that is, as measured by resistance overcome; for the\nhorses, whatever their number, could not have reached the speed of fifty\nmiles an hour, at which the engines in questions whirled along a train of\nsixteen carriages, weighing in all 225 tons.  There are now upwards of\n13,000 locomotives at work in the United Kingdom, each of them earning on\nthe average, 4,750 pounds per annum.  But we have at the same time more\nhorses employed for the conveyance of passengers than we had in 1835.  In\nomnibus and station work--waiting upon the steam horse--there is more\ndemand for horseflesh than was made by our entire coaching system in\n1835.\n\n\n\n\nA SLIGHT MISTAKE.\n\n\nAn Irish newspaper is responsible for the following:--\"A deaf man named\n<DW75> was run down and killed by a passenger train on Wednesday morning.\nHe was injured in a similar way about a year ago.\"\n\n\n\n\nEXPENSIVE CONTRACTS.\n\n\nAn interesting glimpse into the inner working of State, and especially\nRussian, Government railways was afforded in a recent discussion on\nrailway management in Russia, published by the _Journal_ of the German\nRailroad Union.  During this debate it appears that the details were\npublished of the famous contract of the late American Winans with the\nGovernment concerning the Nicholas Railroad.  By the use of considerable\nmoney, Winans succeeded in making a contract, to extend from July 1st,\n1866, for eight years, by which the Government was to pay him for oiling\ncars and small car repairs at an agreed rate per passenger and per ton\nmile.  In addition to this he received a fixed sum of about 15,000 pounds\n(78,000 dols.) per year for painting and maintaining the interior of the\npassenger cars; 6,000 pounds for keeping up the shops, and finally 8,000\npounds yearly for renewing what rolling stock might be worn out.  The St.\nNicholas line was eventually taken over by the Great Russian Company,\nwhich in 1872 succeeded in making the Government annul the contract by\npaying Winans a penalty of 750,000 pounds, which the Great Russian\nCompany paid back with interest within four years.  If the contract had\nbeen continued it would have cost the company more than one-third of its\nnet earnings, since the saving amounts to nearly 523,000 pounds per\nannum.  Another contract which the Government had made for the same road\nwith a sleeping-car company was settled shortly afterward by the\nGovernment taking from the company the few cars it had on hand, and\npaying 75,000 pounds for them and 10,000 pounds a year for the unexpired\nseven years of the contract.\n\n\n\n\nMR. BRASSEY'S STRICT ADHERENCE TO HIS WORD.\n\n\nThe following is one of such stories, illustrative of one phase of Mr.\nBrassey's character--his strict adherence to his word, under all\ncircumstances.\n\nWhen the \"Sambre and Meuse\" was drawing towards completion, Mr. Brassey\ncame along as usual with a staff of agents inspecting the progress of the\nwork.  Stopping at Olloy, a small place between Mariembourg and Vireux,\nnear a large blacksmith's shop, the man, a Frenchman or Belgian, came\nout, and standing up on the bank, with much gesticulation and flourish,\nproceeded to make Mr. Brassey a grand oration.  Anxious to proceed, Mr.\nBrassey paid him no particular attention, but good naturedly endeavoured\nto cut the matter short, with \"Oui, oui, oui,\" and at length got away,\nthe Frenchman apparently expressing great delight.\n\n\"Well, gentlemen, what are you laughing at, what is the joke?\" said he to\nhis staff as they went along.\n\n\"Why, sir, do you know what that fellow said, and for what he was\nasking?\"\n\n\"No, indeed, I don't; I supposed he was complimenting me in some way, or\nthanking me for something.\"\n\n\"He _was_ complimenting you, sir, to some tune, and asking, as a souvenir\nof his happy engagement under the Great Brassey, that you would of your\ngoodness make him a present of the shop, iron, tools, and all belonging!\"\n\n\"Did he, though!  I did not understand that.\"\n\n\"No sir, but you kept on saying, 'Oui, oui, oui,' and the fellow's\ndelighted, as he well may be, they're worth 50 or 60 pounds.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I didn't mean that, I didn't mean that.  Well, never mind, if I\nsaid it, he must _have_ them.\"\n\nIt must be borne in mind, that at that time, at best, Mr. Brassey knew\nvery little French, and his staff were well aware of the fact.\"\n\nSep. 13, 1872.\n\n                                                                     S. S.\n\n\n\n\nEXTRAORDINARY ACCIDENT.\n\n\nIn a leading article in the _Birmingham Post_, Nov. 12th, 1880, the\nwriter remarks:--\"The report of Major Marindin on the collision which\ntook place between two Midland trains, in Leicestershire, about a month\nago, has just been published, but it adds nothing to the information\ngiven at the time when the accident happened.  The case was, as the\nreport says, one of a remarkable, if not unprecedented nature, for the\ncollision arose from a passenger train running backwards instead of\nforwards nearly half-a-mile, without either driver or stoker noticing\nthat its movement was in the wrong direction.  Shortly after the train\nhad passed the village station of Kibworth, where it was not timed to\nstop, the driver observed a knocking sound on his engine.  He pulled up\nthe train in order to ascertain the cause of this, and finding that\nnothing serious was the matter, proceeded on his journey again, or rather\nintended to do so, for, by an extraordinary mistake, he turned the screw\nthe wrong way, so as to reverse the action of the engine, and to direct\nthe train back to Kibworth.  There, a mineral train was making its way\ntowards Leicester, and as the line was on a sharp incline the result\nmight have been a most destructive collision.  It was, however, reduced\nto one of a comparatively mild description by the promptness and\nefficiency with which the brakes were applied to both the trains.  Had\nnot the mineral train been pulled up, and the passenger train lowered\nfrom a speed of twenty to three or four miles an hour, probably the whole\nof the passengers would have been crushed between the two engines.  The\npassengers, therefore, owed their safety to the excellent brake-power\nwhich was at command.  The excuse offered by the driver of the passenger\ntrain for turning the engine backwards was the shape of the reversing\nscrew, which was of a construction not commonly used on the Midland line,\nthough many of the company's engines were so fitted.  The fireman had\nalso his apology for making the same oversight.  He said he was at the\ntime stooping down to adjust the injector.  Major Marindin, though\nadmitting that the men were experienced, careful, and sober, refuses to\naccept either of these excuses; but he can supply no better reason\nhimself for the amazing oversight they committed.  The only satisfactory\npart of the report is that in which the working of the brake mechanism is\nspoken of.  The passenger train had the Westinghouse brake fitted to all\nthe carriages, and such was its efficiency that, had it extended to the\nengine and tender as well, Major Marindin believes the accident would\nhave been entirely prevented.\"\n\n\n\n\nREMARKABLE MEMORY FOR SOUNDS.\n\n\nAmong strange mental feats the strangest perhaps yet recorded are the\nfollowing singular feats of memory for sound, related in the _Scientific\nAmerican_.  In the city of Rochester, N. Y., resides a boy named Hicks,\nwho, though he has only lately removed from Buffalo to Rochester, has\nalready learned to distinguish three hundred locomotive engines by the\nsound of their bells.  During the day the boy is employed so far from the\nrailway that he seldom hears a passing train; but at night he can hear\nevery train, his house being near the railroad.  To give an idea of his\nwonderful memory for sounds (and his scarcely less wonderful memory for\nnumbers also) take the following cases.  Not long ago young Hicks went to\nSyracuse, and while there, he, hearing an engine coming out of the\nround-house, remarked to a friend that he know the bell, though he had\nnot heard it for five years: he gave the number of the engine, which\nproved to be correct.  Again, not long since, an old switch-engine, used\nin the yards at Buffalo, was sent to Rochester for some special purpose.\nIt passed near Hicks' house, and he remarked that the engine was number\nso and so, and that he had not heard the bell for six years.  A boarder\nin the house ran to the railroad, and found the number given by Hicks was\nthe correct one.  To most persons the bells on American locomotives seem\nall much alike in sound and _timbre_, though, of course, a good ear will\nreadily distinguish differences, especially between bells which are\nsounded within a short interval of time.  But that anyone should be able\nin the first place to discriminate between two or three hundred of these\nbells, and in the second place to retain the recollection of the slight\npeculiarities characterising each for several years, would seem\naltogether incredible, had we not other instances--such as Bidder's and\nColburn's calculating feats, Morphy's blindfold chess-play, etc.--of the\namazing degree in which one brain may surpass all others in some special\nquality, though perhaps, in other respects, not exceptionally powerful,\nor even relatively deficient.\n\n                                     --_Gentleman's Magazine_, March 1880.\n\n\n\n\nA DISINGENUOUS BISHOP.\n\n\nMax. O'Rell, the French author, in his book _John Bull at Home_, writes\nEnglish people are very great on words; lying is unknown.  I was\ntravelling by rail one day with an English bishop.  There were five in\nour compartment.  On arriving at a station we heard a cry, \"Five minutes\nhere!\"  My lord bishop, with the greatest haste, set to work to spread\nout travelling-bag, hat-box, rug, papers, &c.  A lady appeared at the\ndoor, and asked, \"Is there room here?\"  \"Madam,\" replied the bishop, \"all\nthe seats are full.\"  When the poor lady had been sent about her\nbusiness, we called his lordship's attention to the fact that there were\nonly five of us in the carriage, and that, consequently all the seats\nwere not taken.  \"I did not say that they were,\" answered my lord; \"I\nsaid that they were _full_.\"\n\n\n\n\nDROPPING THE LETTER \"L.\"\n\n\nIn an advertisement by a railway company of some unclaimed goods, the \"l\"\ndropped from the word \"lawful,\" and it reads now, \"People to whom these\npackages are directed are requested to come forward and pay the _awful_\ncharges on the same.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE SAFEST SEAT IN A RAILWAY CARRIAGE.\n\n\nThe _American Engineer_, as the result of scientific calculations and\nprotracted experience, says the safest seat is in the middle of the last\ncar but one.  There are some chances of danger, which are the same\neverywhere in the train, but others are least at the above-named place.\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAYS A JUDGMENT.\n\n\nIn _White's Warfare of Science_ there is an account of a worthy French\nArchbishop who declared that railways were an evidence of the divine\ndispleasure against innkeepers, inasmuch that they would be punished for\nsupplying meat on fast days by seeing travellers carried by them past\ntheir doors.\n\n\n\n\nCLAIM FOR GOODWILL FOR COW KILLED ON THE RAILWAY.\n\n\nA farmer living near the New York Central lost a cow by a collision with\na train on the line; anxious for compensation he waited upon the manager\nand after stating his case, the manager said, \"I understand she was thin\nand sick.\"  \"Makes no difference,\" replied the farmer.  \"She was a cow,\nand I want pay for her.\"  \"How much?\" asked the manager.  \"Two hundred\ndollars!\" replied the farmer.  \"Now look here,\" said the manager, \"how\nmuch did the cow weigh?\"  \"About four hundred, I suppose,\" said the\nfarmer.  \"And we will say that beef is worth ten cents a pound on the\nhoof.\"  \"It's worth a heap more than that on the cow-catcher!\" replied\nthe indignant farmer.  \"But we'll call it that, what then?  That makes\nforty dollars, shall I give you a cheque for forty dollars?\"  \"I tell you\nI want two hundred dollars,\" persisted the farmer.  \"But how do you make\nthe difference?  I'm willing to pay full value, forty dollars.  How do\nyou make one hundred and sixty dollars?\"  \"Well, sir,\" replied the\nfarmer, waxing wroth, \"I want this railroad to understand that I'm going\nto have something special for the goodwill of that cow!\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE INSURANCE AGENT.\n\n\nAn agent of an accident insurance company entered a smoking car on a\nwestern railroad train a few days ago, and, approaching an exceedingly\ngruff old man, asked him if he did not want to take out a policy.  He was\ntold to get out with his policy, and passed on.  A few minutes afterwards\nan accident occurred to the train, causing a fearful shaking to the cars.\nThe old man jumped up, and seizing a hook at the side of the car to\nsteady himself, called out, \"Where is that insurance man?\"  The question\ncaused a roar of laughter among the passengers, who for the time forgot\ntheir dangers.\n\n                                       --_Harper's Weekly_, May 8th, 1880.\n\n\n\n\nTOUTING FOR BUSINESS AND FRAUDS.\n\n\nSir Edward Watkin observed at the half-yearly meeting of the South\nEastern Railway Company, January, 1881:--\"The result of this compensating\nlaw under which the slightest neglect makes the company liable, and the\nonly thing to be considered is the amount of damages--the effect of this\nunjust law is to create a new profession compounded of the worst elements\nof the present professions--viz., expert doctors, expert attorneys, and\nexpert witnesses.  You will get a doctor to swear that a man who has a\nslight knock on the head to say that he has a diseased spine, and will\nnever be fit for anything again, and never be capable of being a man of\nbusiness or the father of a family.  The result of that is all we can do\nis to get some other expert to say exactly the contrary.  Then you have a\nclass of attorneys who get up this business.  We had an accident, I may\ntell you, at Forrest-hill two years ago.  Well, there was a gentleman--an\nattorney in the train.  He went round to all the people in the train and\ngave them his card; and, having distributed all the cards in his\ncard-case, he went round and expressed extreme regret to the others that\nhe could not give them a card; but he gave them his name as 'So and So,'\nhis place was in 'Such a street,' and the 'No, So and So' in the City.\nThat was touting for business.  Now, there is a very admirable body\ncalled the \"Law Association.\"  Why does not the Law Association take hold\nof cases of that kind?  Well, you saw in the paper the case of Roper _v._\nthe South Eastern.  Now that was a peculiar thing.  Roper declared that\nfrom an injury he had received in a slight accident at the Stoney-street\nsignal box, outside Cannon-street he was utterly incapacitated, and that,\nfor I don't know how many weeks and months, he was in bed without\nceasing.  The doctors, I believe, put pins and needles into him, but he\nnever flinched, and when the case came before the court we found that\nsome of the medical experts declared that it was just within the order of\nProvidence that in twenty years he might get better; but these witnesses\nthought that the chances were against it, and that he would be a hopeless\n<DW36>.  So evidence was given as to his income; and the idea was to\ncapitalise it at 8,000 pounds.  That man had paid 4d. for his ticket I\nthink--I forget the exact amount.  Our counsel, the Attorney-General,\nwent into the thing, with the very able assistance of Mr. Willis, who\ndeserves every possible credit.  We also had Mr. Le Gros Clarke, the\neminent consulting surgeon of the company, and Dr. Arkwright from the\nnorth of England, and they told us that in their opinion it was a\nswindle.  And it was a swindle.  The result of it was, the\nAttorney-General put his foot down upon it, and declared that it was a\nswindle, and the jury unanimously non-suited Mr. Roper.  Well, singularly\nenough, when I say he had paid 4d., I think it was not absolutely proved\nthat he was in the train at all.  But although this was a case in which\nthe jury said there was no case, and where the Judge summed up strongly\nthat it was a fraud, and where the most eminent surgeon said it was an\nabsolute delusion altogether, and where, in point of fact, justice was\ndone entirely to you as regards the verdict, you have 2,300 pounds to pay\nfor costs of one kind or another in defending a case of swindling,\nbecause when you try to recover the costs the man becomes bankrupt, and\nyou won't get a farthing; and I do mean to say I have described a state\nof the law and practice that ought to excite the reprobation of every\nhonest man in England.\"\n\n\n\n\nHEROISM OF A DRIVER.\n\n\nAn engine-driver on the Pennsylvania Railway yesterday saved the lives of\n600 passengers by an extraordinary act of heroism.  The furnace door was\nopened by the fireman to replenish the fire while the train was going at\nthirty-five miles an hour.  The back draught forced the flames out so\nthat the car of the locomotive caught fire, and the engine-driver and the\nfireman were driven back over the tender into the passenger car, leaving\nthe engine without control.  The speed increased, and the volume of flame\nwith it.  There was imminent danger that all the carriages would take\nfire, and the whole be consumed.  The passengers were panic-stricken.  To\njump off was certain death; to remain was to be burned alive.  The\nengine-driver saw that the only way to save the passengers was to return\nto the engine and stop the train.  He plunged into the flames, climbed\nback over the tender, and reversed the engine.  When the train came to a\nstandstill, he was found in the water-tank, whither he had climbed, with\nhis clothes entirely burnt off, his face disfigured, his hands shockingly\nburned, and his body blistered so badly that the flesh was stripped off\nin many places.  Weak and half-conscious he was taken to the hospital,\nwhere his injuries were pronounced serious, with slight chance of\nrecovery.  As soon as the train stopped the flames were easily\nextinguished.  The unanimous testimony of the passengers is that the\nengine-driver saved their lives.  His name is Joseph A. Sieg.\n\n                                          --_Daily News_, Oct. 24th, 1882.\n\n\n\n\nIT'S CROYDON.\n\n\nAs an early morning train drew up at a station, a pleasant looking\ngentleman stepped out on the platform, and, inhaling the fresh air,\nenthusiastically observed to the guard, \"Isn't this invigorating?\"  \"No,\nsir, it's Croydon,\" replied the conscientious employe.\n\n\n\n\nYOUR TICKET.\n\n\nOn a Georgia railroad there is a conductor named Snell, a very clever,\nsociable man, fond of a joke, quick at repartee, and faithful in the\ndischarge of his duties.  One day as his train well filled with\npassengers, was crossing a low bridge over a wide stream, some four or\nfive feet deep, the bridge broke down, precipitating the two passenger\ncars into the stream.  As the passengers emerged from the wreck they were\nborne away by the force of the current.  Snell had succeeded in catching\nhold of some bushes that grew on the bank of the stream, to which he held\nfor dear life.  A passenger less fortunate came rushing by.  Snell\nextended one hand, saying, \"Your ticket, sir; give me your ticket!\"  The\neffect of such a dry joke in the midst of the water may be imagined.\n\n                                                    --_Harper's Magazine_.\n\n\n\n\nAN OLD SCOTCH LADY ON THE LOSS OF HER BOX.\n\n\nDean Ramsay in his _Reminiscences_ remarks:--\"Some curious stories are\ntold of ladies of this class, as connected with the novelties and\nexcitement of railway travelling.  Missing their luggage, or finding that\nsomething has gone wrong about it, often causing very terrible distress,\nand might be amusing, were it not to the sufferer so severe a calamity.\nI was much entertained with the earnestness of this feeling, and the\nexpression of it from an old Scottish lady, whose box was not forthcoming\nat the station where she was to stop.  When urged to be patient, her\nindignant exclamation was, \"I can bear ony pairtings that may be ca'ed\nfor in God's providence; but I canna stan' pairtin' frae ma claes.\"\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY MANNERS.\n\n\nA gentleman was travelling by rail from Breslau to Oppeln and found\nhimself alone with a lady in a second-class compartment.  He vainly\nendeavoured to enter into conversation with the other occupant of the\ncarriage; her answers were invariably curt and snappish.  Baffled in his\nattempts, he proceeded to light a cigar to while away the time.  Then the\nlady said to him: \"I suppose you have never travelled second-class\nbefore, else you would know better manners.\"  Her travelling companion\nquietly rejoined: \"It is true, I have hitherto only studied the manners\nof the first and third-classes.  In the first-class the passengers are\nrude to the porters, in the third-class the porters are rude to the\npassengers.  I now discover that in the second-class the passengers are\nrude to each other.\"\n\n\n\n\nA BRAVE GIRL.\n\n\nKate Shelley, to whom the Iowa Legislature has just given a gold medal\nand $200, is fifteen years old.  She lives near Des Moines, at a point\nwhere a railroad crosses a gorge at a great height.  One night during a\nfurious storm the bridge was carried away.  The first the Shelleys knew\nof it was when they saw the headlight of a locomotive flash down into the\nchasm.  Kate climbed to the remains of the bridge with great difficulty,\nusing an improvised lantern.  The engineer's voice answered her calls,\nbut she could do nothing for him, and he was drowned.  As an express\ntrain was almost due, she then started for the nearest station, a mile\ndistant.  A long, high bridge over the Des Moines River had to be crossed\non the ties--a perilous thing in stormy darkness.  Kate's light was blown\nout, and the wind was so violent that she could not stand, so she crawled\nacross the bridge, from timber to timber, on her hands and knees.  She\ngot to the station exhausted, but in time to give the warning, though she\nfainted immediately.\n\n                                   --_Detroit Free Press_, May 13th, 1882.\n\n\n\n\nSHUT UP IN A LARGE BOX.\n\n\nThe Merv correspondent of the _Daily News_ in a letter dated the 30th of\nApril, 1881, remarks, \"I was very much amused by the description given me\nby some Tekkes of the Serdar's departure for Russia.  It seems that my\ninformants accompanied him up to the point where the trans-Caspian\nrailway is in working order.  'They shut Tockme Serdar and two others in\na large box (sanduk) and locked him in, and then dragged him away across\nthe Sahara.  And,' added the speakers, 'Allah only knows what will happen\nto them inside that box.'  The box, I need hardly say, was a railway\ncarriage.\"\n\n\n\n\nAWFUL DEATH ON A RAILROAD BRIDGE.\n\n\nA man commonly known as \"Billy\" Cooper, of the town of Van Etten, was\nwalking on the railroad track at a point not far distant from his home.\nIn crossing the railroad bridge he made a miss-step, and, slipping, fell\nbetween the ties, but his position was so cramped that he was unable to\nget out of the way of danger.  There, suspended in that awful manner,\nwith the body dangling below the bridge, he heard a train thundering\nalong in the distance, approaching every moment nearer and nearer.  No\none will ever know the struggles for life which the poor fellow made, but\nthey were futile; with arms pinioned to his sides he was unable to signal\nthe engineer.  The train came sweeping on upon its helpless victim until\nwithin a few feet of the spot, when the engineer saw the man's head and\nendeavoured to stop his heavy train.  But too late; the moving mass\npassed over, cutting his head from the shoulders as clean as it could\nhave been done by the guillotine itself.  Cooper was 60 years of age.\n\n                                              --_Ithaca_ (N.Y.) _Journal_.\n\n\n\n\nTHAT ACCURSED DRINK.\n\n\nAn English traveller in Ireland, greedy for information and always\nfingering the note-book in his breast pocket, got into the same railway\ncarriage with a certain Roman Catholic archbishop.  Ignorant of his rank,\nand only perceiving that he was a divine, he questioned him pretty\nclosely about the state of the country, whisky drinking, etc.  At last he\nsaid, \"You are a parish priest, yourself, of course.\"  His grace drew\nhimself up.  \"I _was_ one, sir,\" he answered, with icy gravity.  \"Dear,\ndear,\" was the sympathizing rejoinder.  \"That accursed drink, I suppose.\"\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY UP VESUVIUS.\n\n\nThis railway, the last new project in mountain-climbing, is now finished.\nIt is 900 metres in length, and will enable tourists to ascend by it to\nthe very edge of the crater.  The line has been constructed with great\ncare upon a solid pavement, and it is believed to be perfectly secure\nfrom all incursions of lava.  The mode of traction is by two steel ropes\nput in motion by a steam engine at the foot of the cone.  The wheels of\nthe carriages are so made as to be free from any danger of leaving the\nrails, besides which each carriage is furnished with an exceedingly\npowerful automatic brake, which, should the rope by any chance break,\nwill stop the train almost instantaneously.  One of the chief\ndifficulties of the undertaking was the water supply; but that has been\nobviated by the formation of two very large reservoirs, one at the\nstation, the other near the observatory.\n\n                                                  --_Railway Times_, 1879.\n\n\n\n\nEXTRAORDINARY ESCAPE OF BALLOONISTS.\n\n\nYesterday evening, Aug. 6th, 1883, a special train of \"empties,\" which\nleft Charing-cross at 5.55 to pick up returning excursionists from\nGravesend, had some extraordinary experiences, such as perhaps had hardly\never occurred on a single journey.  On leaving Dartford, where some\npassengers were taken up, the train was proceeding towards Greenhithe,\nwhen the driver observed on the line a donkey, which had strayed from an\nadjoining field.  An endeavour was made to stop the train before the\nanimal was reached, but without success, and the poor beast was knocked\ndown and dragged along by the firebox of the engine.  The train was\nstopped, and with great difficulty the body of the animal, which was\nkilled, was extricated from beneath the engine.  While this was in\nprogress, a balloon called the \"Sunbeam,\" supposed to come either from\nSydenham or Tunbridge Wells, passed over the line, going in the direction\nof Northfleet.  The two aeronauts in the car were observed to be short of\ngas, and were throwing out ballast, but, notwithstanding this, the\nballoon descended slowly, and when some distance ahead of the train was,\nto the horror of the passengers, seen to drop suddenly into the railway\ncutting two or three hundred yards only in advance of the approaching\ntrain.  The alarm whistle was sounded, and the brakes put on, and as the\nballoon dragged the car and its occupants over the down line there seemed\nnothing but certain death for them; but suddenly the inflated monster,\nnow swaying about wildly, took a sudden upward flight, and, dragging the\ncar clear of the line, fell into an adjoining field just when the train\nwas within a hundred yards of the spot.  The escape was marvellous.\n\n\n\n\nPULLING A TOOTH BY STEAM.\n\n\n\"Dummy,\" is a deaf mute newsman on the Long Island Railroad.  Lately he\nhad suffered much in mind and body from an aching tooth.  He did not like\ndentists, but he resolved that the tooth must go.  He procured a piece of\ntwine, and tied one end of it to the tooth and the other end to the rear\nof an express train.  When the train started, Dummy ran along the\nplatform a short distance, and then dropped suddenly on his knees.  The\nengine whistled, and dummy cried, but the train took the tooth.\n\n\n\n\nA HEAVY SLEEPER.\n\n\nIt happens, in numerous instances, that virtuous resolves are made\novernight with respect to early rising, which resolves, when put to the\ntest, are doomed only to be broken.  Some years ago a clergyman, who had\noccasion to visit the West of England on very important business, took up\nhis quarters, late at night, at a certain hotel adjacent to a railway,\nwith a view of starting by the early train on the following morning.\nPrevious to retiring to rest, he called the \"boots\" to him, told him that\nhe wished to be called for the early train, and said that it was of the\nutmost importance that he should not oversleep himself.  The reverend\ngentleman at the same time confessed that he was a very heavy sleeper,\nand as there would be probably the greatest difficulty in awakening him,\nhe (the \"boots\") was to resort to any means he thought proper in order to\neffect his object.  And, further, that if the business were effectually\naccomplished, the fee should be a liberal one.  The preliminaries being\nthus settled, the clergyman sought his couch, and \"boots\" left the room\nwith the air of a determined man.  At a quarter to five on the following\nmorning, \"boots\" walked straight to \"No. twenty-three,\" and commenced a\nvigorous rattling and hammering at the door, but the only answer he\nreceived was \"All right!\" uttered in a very faint and drowsy tone.  Five\nminutes later, \"boots\" approached the door, placing his ear at the\nkeyhole, and detecting no other sound than a most unearthly snore, he\nunceremoniously entered the room, and laying his brawny hands upon the\nprostrate form of the sleeper, shook him violently and long.  This attack\nwas replied to by a testy observation that he \"knew all about it, and\nthere was not the least occasion to shake him so.\"  \"Boots\" thereupon\nleft the room, somewhat doubtingly, and only to return in a few minutes\nafterwards and find the Rev. Mr. -- as sound asleep as ever.  This time\nthe clothes were stripped off, and a species of baptismal process was\nadopted, familiarly known as \"cold pig.\"  At this assault the enraged\ngentleman sat bolt upright in bed, and with much other bitter remark,\ndenounced \"boots\" as a barbarous follow.  An explanation was then come\nto, and the drowsy man professed he understood it all, and was _about_ to\narise.  But the gentleman who officiated at the -- hotel, having had some\nexperience in these matters, placed no reliance upon the promise he had\njust received, and shortly visited \"No. twenty-three\" again.  There he\nfound that the occupant certainly had got up, but it was only to replace\nthe bedclothes and to lie down again.  \"Boots\" now felt convinced that\nthis was one of those cases which required prompt and vigorous handling,\nand without more ado, therefore, he again stripped off the upper\nclothing, and seizing hold of the under sheet, he dragged its depository\nbodily from off the bed.  The sleeping man, sensible of the unusual\nmotion, and dreamily beholding a stalwart form bent over him, became\nimpressed with the idea that a personal attack was being made upon him,\nprobably with a view to robbery and murder.  Under this conviction, he,\nin his descent, grasped \"boots\" firmly by the throat, the result being\nthat both bodies thus came to the floor with a crash.  Here the two\nrolled about for some seconds in all the agonies of a death struggle,\nuntil the unwonted noise and the cries of the assailants brought several\npersons from all parts of the hotel, and they, seeing two men rolling\nfrantically about in each other's arms, and with the hand of each\ngrasping the other's throat, rushed in and separated them.  An\nexplanation was of course soon given.  The son of the church was\neffectually awakened, he rewarded the \"boots,\" and went off by the train.\n\nFortune subsequently smiled upon \"boots,\" and in the course of time he\nbecame proprietor of a first-rate hotel.  In the interval the Rev. Mr. --\nhad risen from a humble curate to the grade of a dean.  Having occasion\nto visit the town of --, he put up at the house of the ex-boots.  The two\nmen saw and recognized each other, and the affair of the early train\nreverted to the mind of both.  \"It was a most fortunate circumstance,\"\nsaid the dean, \"that I did not oversleep myself on that morning, for from\nthe memorable journey that followed, I date my advancement in the Church.\nBut,\" he continued, with an expression that betokened some tender\nrecollection, \"if I ever should require you to wake me for an early train\nagain, would you mind placing a mattress or feather-bed on the floor?\"\n\n                                   --_The Railway Traveller's Handy Book_.\n\n\n\n\nA MAD ENGINE-DRIVER.\n\n\nA startling event happened at an early hour yesterday morning (Jan. 8th,\n1884), in connection with the mail train from Brest, which is due in\nParis at ten minutes to five o'clock.  Whilst proceeding at full speed\nthe passengers observed the brakes to be put on with such suddenness that\nfears were entertained that a collision was imminent, especially as the\nspot at which the train was drawn up was in utter darkness.  Upon the\nguard reaching the engine he found the stoker endeavouring to overpower\nthe driver, who had evidently lost his reason.  After blocking the line\nthe guard joined the stoker, and succeeded in securing the unfortunate\nman, but not until he had offered a desperate resistance.  The locomotive\nwas then put in motion, the nearest station was reached without further\nmisadventure, and the driver was placed in custody.  The train ultimately\narrived in Paris after two hours' delay.\n\n\n\n\nA MEXICAN CHIEF'S RAILWAY IMPRESSIONS.\n\n\nSteam and gunpowder have often proved the most eloquent apostles of\ncivilization, but the impressiveness of their arguments was, perhaps,\nnever more strikingly illustrated than at the little railway station of\nGallegos, in Northern Mexico.  When the first passenger train crossed the\nviaduct, and the Wizards of the North had covered the festive tables with\nthe dainties of all zones, the governor of Durango was not the most\ndistinguished visitor; for among the spectators on the platform the\nnatives were surprised to recognise the Cabo Ventura, the senior chief of\na hill-tribe, which had never formally recognised the sovereignty of the\nMexican Republic.  The Cabo, indeed, considered himself the lawful ruler\nof the entire _Comarca_, and preserved a document in which the Virey\nGonzales, _en nombre del Rey_--in the name of the King--appointed him\n\"Protector of all the loyal tribes of Castro and Sierra Mocha.\"  His\ndiploma had an archaeological value, and several amateurs had made him a\nliberal offer, but the old chieftain would as soon have sold his scalp.\nHis soul lived in the past.  All the evils of the age he ascribed to the\ndemerits of the traitors who had raised the banner of revolt against the\nlawful king; and as for the countrymen of Mr. Gould, the intrusive\n_Yangueses_, his vocabulary hardly approached the measure of his contempt\nwhen he called them _herexes y combusteros_--heretics and humbugs.\n\n\"But it cannot be denied,\" Yakoob Khan wrote to his father, \"that it has\npleased Allah to endow those sinners with a good deal of brains;\" and the\nvoice of nature gradually forced the Cabo to a similar conclusion, till\nhe resolved to come and see for himself.\n\nWhen the screech of the iron Behemoth at last resounded at the lower end\nof the valley, and the train swept visibly around the curve of the\nriver-gap, the natives set up a yell that waked up the mountain echoes;\nmen and boys waved their hats and jumped to and fro, in a state of the\nwildest excitement.  Only the old Cabo stood stock-still.  His gaze was\nriveted upon the phenomenon that came thundering up the valley; his keen\neye enabled him to estimate the rate of speed, the trend of the up-grade,\nthe breadth, the length, the height of the car.  When the train\napproached the station, the crowd surged back in affright, but the Cabo\nstood his ground, and as soon as the cars stopped he stepped down upon\nthe track.  He examined the wheels, tapped the axles, and tried to move\nthe lever; and when the engine backed up for water, he closely watched\nthe process of locomotion, and walked to the end of the last car to\nascertain the length of the train.  He then returned to the platform and\nsat down, covering his face with both hands.\n\nTwo hours later the Governor of Durango found him in still the same\nposition.\n\n\"Hallo, Cabo,\" he called out, \"how do you like this?  What do you think\nnow of America Nueva?\"  (\"New America,\" a collective term for the\nrepublics of the American continent).\n\nThe chieftain looked up.  \"_Sabe Dios_--the gods know--Senor Commandante,\nbut _I_ know this much: With Old America it's all up.\"\n\n\"Is it?  Well, look here: would you now like to sell that old diploma?  I\nstill offer you the same price.\"\n\nThe Cabo put his hand in his bosom, drew forth a leather-shrouded old\nparchment, and handed it to his interlocutor.  \"Vengale, Usted--it's\nworthless and you are welcome to keep it.\"  Nevertheless, he connived\nwhen the Governor slipped a gold piece into the pouch and put it upon his\nknees, minus the document.\n\nBut just before the train started, the Governor heard his name called,\nand stepped out upon the platform of the palace-car, when he saw the old\nchieftain coming up the track.\n\n\"I owe you a debt, senor,\" said he, \"_y le pagare en consejo_, I want to\npay it off in good advice: Beware of those strangers.\"\n\n\"What strangers?\"\n\n\"The caballeros who invented this machine.\"\n\n\"Is that what you came to tell me?\" laughed the Governor as the train\nstarted.\n\nThe old Cabo waved his hand in a military salute.  \"_Estamos ajustade_,\nSenor Commandante, this squares our account.\"\n\n                                         --_Atlantic Monthly_, Jan., 1884.\n\n\n\n\nMY ORDERS.\n\n\n\"Ticket, sir!\" said an inspector at a railway terminus in the City to a\ngentleman, who, having been a season ticket holder for some time,\nbelieved his face was so well known that there was no need for him to\nshow his ticket.  \"My face is my ticket,\" replied the gentleman a little\nannoyed.  \"Indeed!\" said the inspector, rolling back his wristband, and\ndisplaying a most powerful wrist, \"well, my orders are to punch all\ntickets passing on to this platform.\"\n\n\n\n\nLUGGAGE IN RAILWAY CARRIAGES.\n\n\nThe question of the liability of railway companies in the event of\npersonal accident through parcels falling from a rack in the compartments\nof passenger trains has been raised in the Midlands.  In December last, a\ntailor named Round was travelling from Dudley to Stourbridge, and, on the\ntrain being drawn up at Round Oak Station, a hamper was jerked from the\nracks and fell with such force as to cause him serious injury.  Certain\nmedical charges were incurred, and Mr. Round alleged that he was unable\nto attend to his business for five weeks in consequence of the accident.\nHe therefore claimed 50 pounds by way of compensation.  Sir Rupert\nKettle, before whom the case was tried, decided that the company was not\nliable, and could not be held responsible for whatever happened in\nrespect to luggage directly under the control of passengers.  The case is\none of some public interest, inasmuch as a parcel falling from a rack is\nnot an uncommon incident in a railway journey.  Moreover, the hamper in\nquestion belonged, not to the plaintiff, but to a glass engraver, and\ncontained four empty bottles, two razors, and a couple of knives.\n\n                                         --_Daily News_, March 29th, 1884.\n\n\n\n\nEFFECTS OF CONSTANT RAILWAY TRAVELLING.\n\n\nA writer in _Cassell's Magazine_ remarks:--\"We hear individuals now and\nthen talking of the ease with which the season-ticket holder journeys\nbackwards and forwards daily from Brighton.  By the young, healthy man,\nno doubt, the journey is done without fatigue; but, after a certain time\nof life, the process of being conveyed by express fifty miles night and\nmorning is anything but refreshing.  The shaking and jolting of the best\nconstructed carriage is not such as we experience in a coach on an\nordinary road; but is made up of an infinite series of slight\nconcussions, which jar the spinal column and keep the muscles of the back\nand sides in continued action.\"  Dr. Radcliff, who has witnessed many\ncases of serious injury to the nervous system from this cause,\ncontributed the following conclusive case some years ago to the pages of\nthe _Lancet_:--\"A hale and stout gentleman, aged sixty-three, came to me\ncomplaining of inability to sleep, numbness in limbs, great depression,\nand all the symptoms of approaching paralytic seizure.  He was very\nactively engaged in large monetary transactions, which were naturally a\nsource of anxiety.  He had a house in town; but, having been advised by\nthe late Doctor Todd to live at Brighton, he had taken a house there, and\ntravelled to and fro daily by the express train.  The symptoms of which\nhe complained began to appear about four months after taking up his\nresidence at Brighton, and he had undergone a variety of treatment\nwithout benefit, and was just hesitating about trying homaeopathy when I\nsaw him.  I advised him to give up the journey for a month, and make the\nexperiment of living quietly in town.  In a fortnight his rest was\nperfectly restored, and the other symptoms rapidly disappeared, so that\nat the end of the month he was as well as ever again.  After three\nmonths, he was persuaded to join his family at Brighton, and resumed his\ndaily journeys.  In a few days his rest became broken and in two months\nall the old symptoms returned.  By giving up the journeys and again\nresiding in town, he was once more perfectly restored; but, it being the\nend of the season, when the house at Brighton could not readily be\ndisposed of, and yielding to the wishes of his family, he again resumed\nhis journeys.  In a month's time he was rendered so seriously unwell that\nhe hesitated no longer in taking up his permanent abode in town; and\nsince that time--now more than two years ago--he has enjoyed perfect\nhealth.\"\n\n\n\n\nAN ELECTRIC TRAMWAY INCIDENT.\n\n\nThe following appeared in the _Irish Times_ (Dublin, 1884): \"It is not\ngenerally known that the country people along the line of the electric\nrailway make strange uses of the insulated rails, which are the medium of\nelectricity on this tramway, in connection with one of which an\nextraordinary and very remarkable occurrence is reported.  People have no\nobjection to touch the rail and receive a smart shock, which is, however,\nharmless, at least so far.  On Thursday evening a ploughman, returning\nfrom work, stood upon this rail in order to mount his horse.  The rail is\nelevated on insulators 18 inches above the level of the tramway.  As soon\nas the man placed his hands upon the back of the animal it received a\nshock, which at once brought it down, and falling against the rail it\ndied instantly.  The remarkable part is, that the current of electricity\nwhich proved fatal to the brute must have passed through the body of the\nman and proved harmless to him.\"\n\n\n\n\nDUTY IN DISGUISE.\n\n\nA gate-keeper in the employ of the Hessian Railway Company was recently\nthe hero of an amusing incident.  His wife being ill, he went himself to\nmilk the goat; but the stubborn creature would not let him come near it,\nas it had always been accustomed to have this operation performed by its\nmistress.  After many fruitless efforts, he at length decided to put on\nhis wife's clothes.  The experiment succeeded admirably; but the man had\nnot time to doff his disguise before a train approached, and the\ngatekeeper ran to his accustomed post.  His appearance produced quite a\nsensation among the officials of the passing train.  The case was\nreported and an inquiry instituted, which however resulted in his favour,\nas the railway authorities granted the honest gate-keeper a gratuity of\nten marks for the faithful discharge of his duties.\n\n\n\n\nTHE MARQUIS OF HARTINGTON ON GEORGE STEPHENSON.\n\n\nThe Marquis of Hartington, when laying the foundation stone of a public\nhall to be erected in memory of the inventor and practical introducer of\nrailway locomotion, expressed himself as follows:--\"That almost all the\nprogress which this country has made in the last half-century is mainly\ndue to the development of the railway system.  All the other vast\ndevelopments of the power of steam, all the developments of manufacturing\nand mining industry would have availed but little for the greatness and\nprosperity of this country--in fact they could hardly have existed at all\nif there had been wanting those internal communications which have been\nfurnished by the locomotive engine to railways brought into use by\nStephenson.  The changes which have been wrought in the history of our\ncountry by the invention, the industry, and perseverance of one man are\nsomething that we may call astounding.  There are some things which\nexceed the dreams of poetry and romance.  We are justly proud of our\nimperial possessions, but the steam engine, and especially the locomotive\nsteam-engine, the invention of George Stephenson--has not only increased\nthe number of the Queen's subjects by millions, but has added more\nmillions to her Majesty's revenues than have been produced by any tax\never invented by any statesman.  Comfort and happiness, prosperity and\nplenty, have been brought to every one of her Majesty's subjects by this\ninvention in far greater abundance than has ever been produced by any\nlaw, the production of the wisest and most patriotic Parliament.  The\nresults of the career of a man who began life as a herd boy, and who up\nto eighteen did not know how to read or write, and yet was able to confer\nsuch vast benefits upon his country and mankind for all time, is worthy\nof a national and noble memorial.\"\n\n\n\n\nTHE STEPHENSON CENTENARY.\n\n\nOf all celebrations in the North of England there was never the like of\nthe centenary of the birth-day of George Stephenson, June 9th, 1881.  The\nenthusiastic crowds of people assembled to honour the occasion were never\nbefore so numerous on any public holiday.  Sir William Armstrong, C.B.,\nin his speech at the great banquet remarked:--\"The memory of a great man\nnow dead is a solemn subject for a toast, and I approach the task of\nproposing it with a full sense of its gravity.  We are met to celebrate\nthe birth of George Stephenson, which took place just 100 years ago--a\ndate which nearly coincides with that at which the genius of Watt first\ngave practical importance to the steam-engine.  Up to that time the\ninventive faculties of man had lain almost dormant, but with the advent\nof the steam-engine there commenced that splendid series of discoveries\nand inventions which have since, to use the words of Dr. Bruce,\nrevolutionised the state of the world.  Amongst these the most momentous\nin its consequences to the human race is the railway\nsystem--(cheers)--and with that system including the locomotive engine as\nits essential element, the name of George Stephenson will ever be\npre-eminently associated.  In saying this, I do not mean to ignore the\nimportant parts played by others in the development of the railway\nsystem; but it is not my duty on this occasion to review the history of\nthat system and to assign to each person concerned his proper share of\nthe general credit.  To do this would be an invidious task, and out of\nplace at a festival held in honour of George Stephenson only.  I shall,\ntherefore, pass over all names but his, not even making an exception in\nfavour of his distinguished son.  (Cheers.)  It seldom or never happens\nthat any great invention can be exclusively attributed to any one man;\nbut it is generally the case that amongst those who contribute to the\nultimate success there is one conspicuous figure that towers above all\nthe rest, and such is the figure which George Stephenson presents in\nrelation to the railway system.  (Cheers.)  To be sensible of the\nbenefits we have derived from railways and locomotives let us consider\nfor a moment what would be our position if they were taken from us.  The\npresent business of the country could not be carried on, the present\npopulation could not be maintained, property would sink to half its\nvalue--(hear, hear)--and instead of prosperity and progress we should\nhave collapse and retrogression on all sides.  (Cheers.)  What would\nNewcastle be if it ceased to be a focus of railways?  How would London be\nsupplied if it had to fall back upon turnpike roads and horse traffic?\nIn short, England as it is could not exist without railways and\nlocomotives; and it is only our familiarity with them that blunts our\nsense of their prodigious importance.  As to the future effects of\nrailways, it is easy to see that they are destined to diffuse industrial\npopulations over those vast unoccupied areas of the globe that abound in\nnatural resources, and only wait for facilities of access and transport\nto become available for the wants of man.  There is yet scope for an\nenormous extension of railways all over the world, and the fame of\nStephenson will continue to grow as railways continue to spread.  (Loud\ncheers.)  But I should do scant justice to the memory of George\nStephenson if I dwelt only on the results of his achievements.  Many a\ngreat reputation has been marred by faults of character, but this was not\nthe case with George Stephenson.  His manly simplicity and frankness, and\nhis kindly nature won for him the respect and esteem of all who knew him\nboth in the earlier and later periods of his career--(cheers)--but the\nprominent feature in his character was his indomitable perseverance,\nwhich broke down all obstacles, and converted even his failures and\ndisappointments into stepping stones to success.  It was not the desire\nfor wealth that actuated him in the pursuit of his objects, but it was a\nnoble enthusiasm, far more conducive to great ends than the hope of gain,\nthat carried him forward to his goal.  Unselfish enthusiasm such as his\nalways gives a tone of heroism to a character, and heroism above all\nthings commands the homage of mankind.  Newcastle may well be proud of\nits connection with George Stephenson, and the proceedings of this day\ntestify how much his memory is cherished in this his native district.\nAny memorial dedicated to him would be appropriate to this occasion, and\nif such memorial were connected with scientific instruction it would be\nin harmony with his well-known appreciation of the value of scientific\neducation, and of the sacrifices he made to give his son the advantage of\nsuch an education.  (Cheers.)  I now, gentlemen, have to propose to you\nthe toast which has been committed to me, and which is 'Honour to the\nmemory of George Stephenson, and may the college to be erected to his\nmemory prove worthy of his fame.'  I must ask you to drink this toast\nstanding; and consider that the birth of Stephenson is a subject of\njubilation.  I think that although he is dead we may drink that toast\nwith hearty cheering.  (Hear, hear, and loud cheers.)\n\nMr. George Robert Stephenson, who was warmly cheered on rising to respond\nto the toast, said: \"Mr. Mayor and gentlemen,--Let me, in the first place\nthank Sir William Armstrong for the many kind words he has uttered in\nhonour of the memory of George Stephenson.  It is true that he was, as\nSir William said, one of the most kind-hearted and unselfish men that\never lived; but I suppose that no man has had a more up-hill struggle\nduring the present century.  (Cheers).  I have now in my possession\ndocuments that would show in his early life the extraordinary and\npeculiar nature of the opposition that was brought against him as a poor\nman.  He was opposed by many of the leading engineers of the day; some of\nthese men using language which, it is not incorrect to say, was not only\ninjurious but wicked.  This is not the proper occasion to weary you with\na long speech, but with the view of showing the peculiar mode of\nengineers reporting against each other, I could very much wish, with your\npermission, to read a few sentences from documents that I have in my\npossession, dating back to 1823.  (Hear, hear).  This, gentlemen, will\nclearly show the sort of opposition I have alluded to.  It occurs at the\nend of a report by an opponent upon some projected work on which the four\nbrothers were engaged:--'But we cannot conclude without saying that such\na mechanic as Mr. Stephenson, who can neither calculate, nor lay his\ndesigns on paper, or distinguish the effect from the cause, may do very\nwell for repairing engines when they are constructed, but for building\nnew ones, he must be at great loss to his employers, from the many\nalterations that will take place in engine-building, when he goes by what\nwe call the rule of thumb.'  In a preceding sentence he is taunted with\nbeing like the fly going round on a crank axle, and shouting 'What a dust\nI am kicking up.'  Gentlemen, the dust that George Stephenson kicked up\nformed itself into a cloud, and in every part of the globe to which it\nreached it carried with it and planted the seeds of civilization and\nwealth.  Notwithstanding the hard and illiberal treatment to which he was\nexposed, he was not beaten; on the contrary, by his genius and his\nnever-failing spirit, he raised himself above the level of the very men\nwho opposed every effort he made towards the advancement of engineering\nscience--efforts which have resulted in a vast improvement of our means\nfor extracting the valuable products of the earth, and also of our means\nof conveying them at a cheap rate to distant markets.  It is not too much\nto say that George Stephenson headed a movement by which alone could\nemployment have been found for an ever-increasing population.\"\n\nIn the town of Chesterfield the Centenary was celebrated most\nbefittingly.  It was there the father of railways spent his latter days,\nand there he died.  Although there was not such a flood of oratory as at\nNewcastle-upon-Tyne, many interesting speeches were delivered in\nconnection with the event.  We give some extracts from an address\ndelivered by the Rev. Samuel C. Sarjant, B.A., Curate-in-Charge at that\ntime--delivered at Holy Trinity Church, Chesterfield.  An address which,\nfor ability, nice discrimination of thought, and true appreciation of the\nsubject, would not disgrace any pulpit in Christendom:--\n\n\"We meet to-day for the highest of all purposes, the worship of Almighty\nGod.  But we also meet to show our regard for the memory of one of the\ngreat and gifted dead.  It is no small distinction of this town that the\nlast days of George Stephenson were spent in it.  And it adds to the\ninterest of this church that it contains his mortal remains.  With little\ninternally to appeal to the eye, or to gratify taste, this church has yet\na spell which will draw visitors from every part of the world.  Men will\ncome hither from all lands to look with reverence upon the simple resting\nplace of him who was the father of the Locomotive and of the Railway\nsystem.  And perhaps the naked simplicity which marks that spot is in\nkeeping with a life, the grandeur of which was due solely to the man\nhimself, and not to outward helps and circumstances . . .\n\n\"Toil has its roll of heroes, but few, if any, of them are greater than\nhe whose birth we commemorate to-day.  He was pre-eminently a self-made\nman, one who 'achieved' greatness by his own exertions.  Granting that he\nwas gifted with powers of body and mind above the average, these were his\nonly advantages.  The rest was due to hard work, patient, persistent\neffort.  He had neither wealth, schooling, patrons, nor favouring\ncircumstances.  He comes into the arena like a naked athlete to wrestle\nin his own strength with the difficulties before him.  And these were\nmany and great!\n\n\"I need not dwell upon the details of a life which is so well known to\nmost, and to some present so vividly, from personal intercourse and\nfriendship.  We all know what a battle he fought, how nobly and well,\nfirst striving by patient plodding effort to remove his own ignorance,\ncheerfully bending himself to every kind of work that came in his way,\nand seeking to gain not only manual expertness, but a mastery of\nprinciples.  We know how he went on toiling, observing, experimenting,\nsaying little--for he was never given to the 'talk of the lips'--but\ndoing much, letting slip no chance of getting knowledge, and of turning\nit to practical account.  He was one of those, who\n\n    While his companions slept\n    Was toiling upwards in the night.\n\nAnd in due time his quiet work bore fruit.  He invented a safety-lamp\nwhich alone should have entitled him to the gratitude of posterity.  He\nthen set himself to improve the locomotive, and fit it for the future\nwhich his prescient mind discerned, and on a fair field he vanquished all\ncompetitors.  He then sought to adapt the roadway to the engine and make\nit fit for its new work.  And then, hardest task of all, he had to\nconvince the public that railway travelling was a possible thing; that it\ncould he made safe, cheap, and rapid.  In doing this he was compelled to\ndesign, plan, and execute almost everything with his own mind and hand.\nAll classes and interests were against him, the engineers, the land\nowners, the legislature, and the public.  He had to encounter the\nphantoms of ignorance and fear, the solid resistance of vested interests,\nand the bottomless quagmires of Chat Moss.  But he triumphed!  And it was\na well-earned reward as he looked down from his pleasant retreat at\nTapton upon the iron bands which glistened below, to know that they were\npart of a network which was spreading over the whole land and becoming\nthe one highway of transit and commerce.  Nor was this all his\nsatisfaction.  He knew that Europe and America were welcoming the\nrailway, and that it was promising to link together the whole civilized\nworld.\n\n\"Of the 'profit' of his labours to humanity I scarcely venture to speak,\nsince it cannot possibly be told in a few words.  The railway system has\nrevolutionised society.  It has powerfully affected every class, every\ninterest and department of life.  It has given an incredible impulse to\ncommerce, quickened human thought, created a new language, new habits,\ntastes and pleasures.  It has opened up fields of industry and enterprise\ninaccessible and unknown before.  It has cheapened the necessaries and\ncomforts of life, enhanced the value of property, promoted the fellowship\nof class with class, and brought unnumbered benefits and advantages\nwithin the reach of all.  And it is yet, as to the world at large, but in\nthe infancy of its development.\n\n\"How much, then, do we owe, under God, to George Stephenson.  How much,\nnot merely to his energy and diligence, but to his courage, patience, and\nuprightness?  For these qualities, quite as much as gifts of genius and\ninsight, contributed to his final success.  He was crowned because he\nstrove 'lawfully.'  His patience was as great in waiting as his energy in\nworking.  He did not work from greed or self-glorification; and therefore\nthe hour of success, when it came, found him the same modest,\nself-restrained man as before.  He neither overrated the value of the\nsystem which he had set up, nor made it a means of speculation and\ngambling.  He was a man of sterling honesty and uprightness--of\nself-control, simple in his habits and tastes, given to plain living and\nhigh thinking.  And yet he was most kindly, genial, and cheery, of strong\naffections, considerate of his workpeople, tender to his family, full of\nlove to little children and pet animals, brimming with fun and good\nhumour.  He had the gentleness of all noble natures, the largeness of\nmind and heart which could recognise ability and worth in others, and\ngive rivals their due.  For the young inventor, or for such of his\nhelpers as showed marked diligence or promise, he had ready sympathy and\naid.  Nor ought we to pass unnoticed his love of nature and of natural\nbeauty.  Strong throughout his whole life, this was especially\nconspicuous at its close.  Such leisure as his last days brought was\nspent amidst flowers and fruits, gardens and greeneries which he had\nplanned and filled, and from the midst of whose treasures he could look\nforth over venerable trees and green fields upon a wide and varied\nlandscape.  And yet, even in this relaxation, the old energy and\nearnestness of purpose asserted themselves.  He toiled and experimented,\nwatching the growth of his plants and flowers with more than professional\npains.  Nor is it improbable that the ardour which led him to confine\nhimself for hours together in a heated and unhealthy atmosphere led to\nhis fatal illness.\n\n\"We are bound, then, to mark and admit how much the moral element in the\nworker contributed to his success, and to the freshness of the regard\nwhich is felt for his memory and name.  England is proud of his works,\nbut prouder still of the man who did them.  Far different would have been\nthe result if impatience, ungenerousness, and love of greed had marred\nhis life and work.  The tributes of respect which we gladly lay upon his\ntomb to-day, would probably have been placed elsewhere.\"\n\n\n\n\nREMARKABLE COINCIDENCES.\n\n\nMany years ago the editor of this book and an elderly lady, the widow of\na well-known farmer, took tickets from Little Bytham for Edenham in\nLincolnshire.  They were the only passengers, and as the railway passed\nfor nearly two miles through Grimsthorpe park, she asked the driver if he\nwould stop at a certain spot which would have saved us both perhaps\nhalf-a-mile's walk.  The request was politely refused.  After going a\ngood distance the train was suddenly pulled up.  I opened the window and\nfound it had stopped at the very spot we desired.  The stoker came\nrunning by with a fine hare which the train had run over.  I said we can\nget out now and he said, Oh yes.  And so through this strange\nmisadventure to poor pussy our walk was much shortened.\n\nSome years before the above occurrence I was travelling by the early\nmorning mail train from the Midlands to the West of England.  At Taunton\nI perceived a crowd of persons gathered at the front of the train.  I\nwent forward and saw a corpse was being removed from the van to a hearse\noutside the station.  On reading the inscription on the coffin plate I\nwas somewhat taken aback to find my own name.  So Richard Pike living and\nRichard Pike dead had been travelling by the same train.  Perhaps rarely,\nif ever, have two more singular circumstances occurred in connection with\nrailway travelling.\n\n\n\n\nLOSS OF TASTE.\n\n\nSerjeant Ballantine in his _Experiences of a Barrister's Life_,\nsays:--\"There was a singular physical fact connected with him (Sir Edward\nBelcher), he had entirely lost the sense of taste; this he frequently\ncomplained of, and could not account for.  A friend of mine, an eminent\nmember of the Bar, suffers in the same way, but is able to trace the\nphenomenon to the shock that he suffered in a railway collision.\"\n\n\n\n\nINGENIOUS SWINDLING.\n\n\nA party of gentlemen who had been to Doncaster to see the St. Leger run,\ncame back to the station and secured a compartment.  As the train was\nabout to start, a well-dressed and respectable looking man entered and\ntook the only vacant seat.  Shortly after they had started, he said,\n\"Well, gentlemen, I suppose you have all been to the races to-day?\"  They\nreplied they had.  \"Well,\" said the stranger, \"I have been, and have\nunfortunately lost every penny I had, and have nothing to pay my fare\nhome, but if you promise not to split on me, I have a plan that I think\nwill carry me through.\"  They all consented.  He then asked the gentleman\nthat sat opposite him if he would kindly lend him his ticket for a\nmoment; on its being handed to him he took it and wrote his own name and\naddress on the back of the ticket and returned it to the owner.  Nothing\nmore was said until they arrived at the place where they collected\ntickets; being the races, the train was very crowded, and the\nticket-collector was in a great hurry; the gentlemen all pushed their\ntickets into his hands.  The collector then asked the gentleman without a\nticket for his, who replied he had already given it him.  The collector\nstoutly denied it.  The gentleman protested he had, and, moreover, would\nnot be insulted, and ordered him to call the station-master.  On the\nstation-master coming, he said he wished to report the collector for\ninsulting him.  \"I make a practice to always write my name and address on\nthe back of my ticket, and if your man looks at his tickets he will find\none of that description.\"  The man looked and, of course, found the\nticket, whereupon he said he must have been mistaken, and both he and the\nstationmaster apologised, and asked him not to report the case further.\n\n\n\n\nDANGEROUS LUGGAGE.\n\n\nComplaints are sometimes made of the want of due respect paid on the part\nof porters to passengers' luggage.  It appears that occasionally a like\nlack of caution is manifested by owners to their own property.  It is\nsaid that on a train lately on a western railway in America, some\npassengers were discussing the carriage of explosives.  One man contended\nthat it was impossible to prevent or detect this; if people were not\nallowed to ship nitro-glycerine or dynamite legitimately, they'd smuggle\nit through their baggage.  This assertion was contradicted emphatically,\nand the passenger was laughed at, flouted, and ignominiously put to\nscorn.  Rising up in his wrath, he produced a capacious valise from under\nthe seat, and, slapping it emphatically on the cover, said, \"Oh, you\nthink they don't, eh?  Don't carry explosives in cars?  What's this?\" and\nhe gave the valise a resounding thump, \"Thar's two hundred good dynamite\ncartridges in that air valise; sixty pounds of deadly material; enough to\nblow this yar train and the whole township from Cook County to\nChimborazo.  Thar's dynamite enough,\" he continued; but he was without an\nauditor, for the passengers had fled incontinently, and he could have sat\ndown upon twenty-two seats if he had wanted to.  And the respectful way\nin which the baggage men on the out-going trains in the evening handled\nthe trunks and valises was pleasant to see.\n\nThe neglect of carefulness appears, in one instance at least, to have\ninvolved inconvenience to the offending official.  \"An unknown genius,\"\nsays an American periodical, \"the other day entrusted a trunk, with a\nhive of bees in it, to the tender mercies of a Syracuse\n'baggage-smasher.'  The company will pay for the bees, and the doctor\nthinks his patient will be round in a fortnight or so.\"\n\n                                            --Williams's _Our Iron Roads_.\n\n\n\n\nSTUMPED.\n\n\nSeveral Sundays ago a Philadelphia gentleman took his little son on a\nrailway excursion.  The little fellow was looking out of the window, when\nhis father slipped the hat off the boy's head.  The latter was much\ngrieved at his supposed loss, when papa consoled him by saying that he\nwould \"whistle it back.\"  A little later he whistled and the hat\nreappeared.  Not long after the little lad flung his hat out of the\nwindow, shouting, \"Now, papa, whistle it back again!\"  A roar of laughter\nin the car served to enhance the confusion of perplexed papa.  Moral:\nDon't attempt to deceive little boys with plausible stories.\n\n\n\n\nEXCURSIONISTS PUT TO THE PROOF.\n\n\nA good story is told of the Manchester, Sheffield, and Lincoln Railway\nCompany.  A week or two since, the company ran an excursion train to\nLondon and back, the excursion being intended for their workmen at Gorton\nand Manchester.  There was an enormous demand for the tickets; so\nenormous that the officials began, to use an expressive term, \"to smell a\nrat.\"  But the sale of the tickets was allowed to proceed.  The journey\nto London was made, and a considerable number of the passengers\ncongratulated themselves upon the remarkably cheap outing they were\nhaving.  But on the return journey they made a most unpleasant discovery.\nTheir tickets were demanded at Retford, and then the ticket-collectors\ninsisted upon the holder of every ticket proving that he was in the\nemploy of the company.  The result can be imagined.  There were more\npersons in the train who had no connection with the company than there\nwere of the company's employes; and the former had either to pay a full\nfare to and from London, or to give their names and addresses preparatory\nto being summoned.  We hear, from a reliable source, that the fares thus\nobtained amount to about 300 pounds.\n\n                                                 --_Echo_, Sept. 23, 1880.\n\n\n\n\nA MONKEY SIGNALMAN.\n\n\nWe learn from the _Colonies_ that a monkey signalman manages the railway\ntraffic at Witenhage, South Africa.  The human signalman has had the\nmisfortune to lose both his legs, and has trained a baboon to discharge\nhis duties.  Jacky pushes his master about on a trolly, and, under his\ndirections, works the lever to set the signals with a most ludicrous\nimitation of humanity.  He puts down the lever, looks round to see that\nthe correct signal is up, and then gravely watches the approaching train,\nhis master being at hand to correct any mistake.\n\n\n\n\nA CURIOUS CLASSIFICATION.\n\n\nThe guard of an English railway carriage recently refused to allow a\nnaturalist to carry a live hedgehog with him.  The traveller, indignant,\npulled a turtle from his wallet and said, \"Take this too!\"  But the guard\nreplied good naturedly, \"Ho, no, sir.  It's dogs you can't carry; and\ndogs is dogs, cats is dogs, and 'edge'ogs is dogs, but turtles is\nhinsects.\"\n\n\n\n\nPULLMAN'S CARRIAGES.\n\n\nIn the discussion on Mr. C. Douglas Fox's recent paper on the\nPennsylvania railway, Mr. Barlow, the engineer of the Midland, observed\nthat there was a certain attractive power about a Pullman's carriage,\nwhich ought not to be overlooked, a power which brought passengers to it\nwho would not otherwise travel by railway.  A Pullman's carriage weighed\nsomewhere about twenty tons.  The cost of hauling that weight was about\n1.5d. per mile; that was the sum which the Midland Company proposed to\ncharge for first-class passengers, so that one first-class passenger\nwould pay the haulage of the carriage.  If the attractive power of the\ncarriage brought more than one first-class passenger it would of course\npay itself.\n\n                              _Herepath's Railway Journal_, Jan. 23, 1875.\n\n\n\n\nPROFITABLE DAMAGES.\n\n\nThe Springfield _Republican_, of 1877, is responsible for the following\nstory:--\"The industry of railroading has developed some thrifty\ncharacters, among whom a former employe of the New York, New Haven, and\nHartford road deserves high rank.  He was at one time at work in the\nSpringfield depot, and while taking a trunk out of a baggage car from\nBoston he was thrown over and hurt, the baggage-smashing art being for a\ntime reversed.  The injured employe suffered terribly, and crawled around\non crutches until the Boston and Albany and the New Haven roads united\nand gave him 6000 dollars.  He was cured the next day.  Shortly\nafterwards a man on the Boston and Albany road was killed, and the\nCompany gave his widow 3,000 dollars.  The former <DW36>, who had scored\n6,000 dollars already, soon married her, and thus counted 9,000 dollars.\nHe recovered his health so completely that he was able again to work on\nthe railroad, but finally, not being hurt again within a reasonable time,\nhe retired to a farm which he had bought with a part of the proceeds of\nhis former calamities.\"\n\n\n\n\nRAILWAY ENTERPRISE.\n\n\nIt would be difficult to close this series of Railway Anecdotes more\nappropriately than in the words of George Stephenson's celebrated son\nRobert at a banquet given to him at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, in August, 1850.\n\"It was but as yesterday,\" he said, \"that he was engaged as an assistant\nin tracing the line of the Stockton and Darlington Railway.  Since that\nperiod, the Liverpool and Manchester, the London and Birmingham, and a\nhundred other great works had sprung into vigorous existence.  So\nsuddenly, so promptly had they been accomplished, that it appeared to him\nlike the realization of fabled powers, or the magician's wand.  Hills had\nbeen cut down, and valleys had been filled up; and where this simple\nexpedient was inapplicable, high and magnificent viaducts had been\nerected; and where mountains intervened, tunnels of unexampled magnitude\nhad been unhesitatingly undertaken.  Works had been scattered over the\nface of our country, bearing testimony to the indomitable enterprise of\nthe nation and the unrivalled skill of its artists.  In referring thus to\nthe railway works, he must refer also to the improvement of the\nlocomotive engine.  This was as remarkable as the other works were\ngigantic.  They were, in fact, necessary to each other.  The locomotive\nengine, independent of the railway, would be useless.  They had gone on\ntogether, and they now realized all the expectations that were\nentertained of them.  It would be unseemly, as it would be unjust, if he\nwere to conceal the circumstances under which these works had been\nconstructed.  No engineer could succeed without having men about him as\nhighly-gifted as himself.  By such men he had been supported for many\nyears past; and, though he might have added his mite, yet it was to their\nco-operation that all his success was owing.\"\n\n\n\n\n***","meta":{"redpajama_set_name":"RedPajamaBook"}}