Pipes O'Pan At Zekesbury Part 1

Pipes O'Pan at Zekesbury.

by James Whitcomb Riley.

PIPES O' PAN AT ZEKESBURY

The pipes of Pan! Not idler now are they Than when their cunning fas.h.i.+oner first blew The pith of music from them: Yet for you And me their notes are blown in many a way Lost in our murmurings for that old day That fared so well, without us.--Waken to The pipings here at hand:--The clear halloo Of truant-voices, and the roundelay The waters warble in the solitude Of blooming thickets, where the robin's breast Sends up such ecstacy o'er dale and dell, Each tree top answers, till in all the wood There lingers not one squirrel in his nest Whetting his hunger on an empty sh.e.l.l.

AT ZEKESBURY.

The little town, as I recall it, was of just enough dignity and dearth of the same to be an ordinary county seat in Indiana--"The Grand Old Hoosier State," as it was used to being howlingly referred to by the forensic stump orator from the old stand in the courthouse yard--a political campaign being the wildest delight that Zekesbury might ever hope to call its own.

Through years the fitful happenings of the town and its vicinity went on the same--the same! Annually about one circus ventured in, and vanished, and was gone, even as a pa.s.sing trumpet-blast; the usual rainy-season swelled the "Crick," the driftage choking at "the covered bridge," and backing water till the old road looked amphibious; and crowds of curious townsfolk straggled down to look upon the watery wonder, and lean awe-struck above it, and spit in it, and turn mutely home again.

The usual formula of incidents peculiar to an uneventful town and its vicinity: The countryman from "Jessup's Crossing," with the cornstalk coffin-measure, loped into town, his steaming little gray-and-red-flecked "roadster" gurgitating, as it were, with that mysterious utterance that ever has commanded and ever must evoke the wonder and bewilderment of every boy. The small-pox rumor became prevalent betimes, and the subtle aroma of the a.s.safoetida-bag permeated the graded schools "from turret to foundation-stone;" the still recurring expose of the poor-house management; the farm-hand, with the scythe across his shoulder, struck dead by lightning; the long-drawn quarrel between the rival editors culminating in one of them a.s.saulting the other with a "sidestick," and the other kicking the one down stairs and thenceward _ad libitum;_ the tramp, suppositiously stealing a ride, found dead on the railroad; the grand jury returning a sensational indictment against a bar-tender _non est_; the Temperance outbreak; the "Revival;" the Church Festival; and the "Free Lectures on Phrenology, and Marvels of Mesmerism," at the town hall. It was during the time of the last-mentioned sensation, and directly through this scientific investigation, that I came upon two of the town's most remarkable characters. And however meager my outline of them may prove, my material for the sketch is most accurate in every detail, and no deviation from the cold facts of the case shall influence any line of my report.

For some years prior to this odd experience I had been connected with a daily paper at the state capitol; and latterly a prolonged session of the legislature, where I specially reported, having told threateningly upon my health, I took both the advantage of a brief vacation, and the invitation of a young bachelor Senator, to get out of the city for awhile, and bask my respiratory organs in the revivifying rural air of Zekesbury--the home of my new friend.

"It'll pay you to get out here," he said, cordially, meeting me at the little station, "and I'm glad you've come, for you'll find no end of odd characters to amuse you." And under the very pleasant sponsors.h.i.+p of my senatorial friend, I was placed at once on genial terms with half the citizens of the little town--from the s.h.i.+rt-sleeved nabob of the county office to the droll wag of the favorite loafing-place--the rules and by-laws of which resort, by the way, being rudely charcoaled on the wall above the cutter's bench, and somewhat artistically culminating in an original dialectic legend which ran thus:

F'rinstance, now whar _some_ folks gits To relyin' on their wits.

Ten to one they git too smart, And spile it all right at the start!-- Feller wants to jest go slow And do his _thinkin'_ first, you know:---- _Ef I can't think up somepin' good,_ _I set still and chaw my cood!_

And it was at this inviting rendezvous, two or three evenings following my arrival, that the general crowd, acting upon the random proposition of one of the boys, rose as a man and wended its hilarious way to the town hall.

"Phrenology," said the little, old, bald-headed lecturer and mesmerist, thumbing the egg-shaped head of a young man I remembered to have met that afternoon in some law office; "Phrenology," repeated the professor--"or rather the _term_ phrenology--is derived from two Greek words signifying _mind_ and _discourse_; hence we find embodied in phrenology-proper, the science of intellectual measurement, together with the capacity of intelligent communication of the varying mental forces and their flexibilities, etc., &c. The study, then, of phrenology is, to wholly simplify it--is, I say, the general contemplation of the workings of the mind as made manifest through the certain corresponding depressions and protuberances of the human skull, when, of course, in a healthy state of action and development, as we here find the conditions exemplified in the subject before us."

Here the "subject" vaguely smiled.

"You recognize that mug, don't you?" whispered my friend. "It's that coruscating young a.s.s, you know, Hedrick--in c.u.mmings' office--trying to study law and literature at the same time, and tampering with 'The Monster that Annually,' don't you know?--where we found the two young students scuffling round the office, and smelling of peppermint?--Hedrick, you know, and Sweeney. Sweeney, the slim chap, with the pallid face, and frog-eyes, and clammy hands! You remember I told you 'there was a pair of 'em?' Well, they're up to something here to-night. Hedrick, there on the stage in front; and Sweeney--don't you see?--with the gang on the rear seats."

"Phrenology--again," continued the lecturer, "is, we may say, a species of mental geography, as it were; which--by a study of the skull--leads also to a study of the brain within, even as geology naturally follows the initial contemplation of the earth's surface.

The brain, thurfur, or intellectual retort, as we may say, natively exerts a molding influence on the skull contour; thurfur is the expert in phrenology most readily enabled to accurately locate the mult.i.tudinous intellectual forces, and most exactingly estimate, as well, the sequent character of each subject submitted to his scrutiny.

As, in the example before us--a young man, doubtless well known in your midst, though, I may say, an entire stranger to myself--I venture to disclose some characteristic trends and tendencies, as indicated by this phrenological depression and development of the skull-proper, as later we will show, through the mesmeric condition, the accuracy of our mental diagnosis."

Throughout the latter part of this speech my friend nudged me spasmodically, whispering something which was jostled out of intelligent utterance by some inward spasm of laughter.

"In this head," said the Professor, straddling his malleable fingers across the young man's b.u.mpy brow--"In this head we find Ideality large--abnormally large, in fact; thurby indicating--taken in conjunction with a like development of the perceptive qualities--language following, as well, in the prominent eye--thurby indicating, I say, our subject as especially endowed with a love for the beautiful--the sublime--the elevating--the refined and delicate--the lofty and superb--in nature, and in all the sublimated attributes of the human heart and beatific soul. In fact, we find this young man possessed of such natural gifts as would befit him for the exalted career of the sculptor, the actor, the artist, or the poet--any ideal calling; in fact, any calling but a practical, matter-of-fact vocation; though in poetry he would seem to best succeed."

"Well," said my friend, seriously, "he's _feeling_ for the boy!" Then laughingly: "Hedrick _has_ written some rhymes for the county papers, and Sweeney once introduced him, at an Old Settlers' Meeting, as 'The Best Poet in Center Towns.h.i.+p,' and never cracked a smile! Always after each other that way, but the best friends in the world. _Sweeney's_ strong suit is elocution. He has a native ability that way by no means ordinary, but even that gift he abuses and distorts simply to produce grotesque, and oftentimes ridiculous effects. For instance, nothing more delights him than to 'lothfully' consent to answer a request, at The Mite Society, some evening, for 'an appropriate selection,' and then, with an elaborate introduction of the same, and an exalted tribute to the refined genius of the author, proceed with a most gruesome rendition of 'Alonzo The Brave and The Fair Imogene,' in a way to coagulate the blood and curl the hair of his fair listeners with abject terror. Pale as a corpse, you know, and with that cadaverous face, lit with those malignant-looking eyes, his slender figure, and his long, thin legs and arms and hands, and his whole diabolical talent and adroitness brought into play--why, I want to say to you, it's enough to scare 'em to death! Never a smile from him, though, till he and Hedrick are safe out into the night again--then, of course, they hug each other and howl over it like Modocs! But pardon; I'm interrupting the lecture. Listen."

"A lack of continuity, however," continued the Professor, "and an undue love of approbation, would, measurably, at least, tend to r.e.t.a.r.d the young man's progress toward the consummation of any loftier ambition, I fear; yet as we have intimated, if the subject were appropriately educated to the need's demand, he could doubtless produce a high order of both prose and poetry--especially the latter--though he could very illy bear being laughed at for his pains."

"He's dead wrong there," said my friend; "Hedrick enjoys being laughed at; he 's used to it--gets fat on it!"

"He is fond of his friends," continued the Professor "and the heartier they are the better; might even be convivially inclined--if so tempted--but prudent--in a degree," loiteringly concluded the speaker, as though unable to find the exact b.u.mp with which to bolster up the last named attribute.

The subject blushed vividly--my friend's right eyelid dropped, and there was a noticeable, though elusive sensation throughout the audience.

"_But!_" said the Professor, explosively, "selecting a directly opposite subject, in conjunction with the study of the one before us [turning to the group at the rear of the stage and beckoning], we may find a newer interest in the practical comparison of these subjects side by side." And the Professor pushed a very pale young man into position.

"Sweeney!" whispered my friend, delightedly; "now look out!"

"In _this_ subject," said the Professor, "we find the practical business head. Square--though small--a trifle light at the base, in fact; but well balanced at the important points at least; thoughtful eyes--wide-awake--crafty--quick--restless--a policy eye, though not denoting language--unless, perhaps, mere business forms and direct statements."

"Fooled again!" whispered my friend; "and I'm afraid the old man will fail to nest out the fact also that Sweeney is the cold-bloodedest guyer on the face of the earth, and with more diabolical resources than a prosecuting attorney; the Professor ought to know this, too, by this time--for these same two chaps have been visiting the old man in his room at the hotel;--that's what I was trying to tell you awhile ago. The old sharp thinks he's 'playing' the boys, is my idea; but it's the other way, or I lose my guess."

"Now, under the mesmeric influence--if the two subjects will consent to its administration," said the Professor, after some further tedious preamble, "we may at once determine the fact of my a.s.sertions, as will be proved by their action while in this peculiar state." Here some apparent remonstrance was met with from both subjects, though amicably overcome by the Professor first manipulating the stolid brow and pallid front of the imperturbable Sweeney--after which the same mysterious ordeal was lothfully submitted to by Hedrick--though a noticeably longer time was consumed in securing his final loss of self-control. At last, however, this curious phenomenon was presented, and there before us stood the two swaying figures, the heads dropped back, the lifted hands, with thumb and finger-tips pressed lightly together, the eyelids languid and half closed, and the features, in appearance, wan and humid.

"Now, sir!" said the Professor, leading the limp Sweeney forward, and addressing him in a quick, sharp tone of voice.--"Now, sir, you are a great contractor--own large factories, and with untold business interests. Just look out there! [pointing out across the expectant audience] look there, and see the countless minions toiling servilely at your dread mandates. And yet--ha! ha! See! see!--They recognize the avaricious greed that would thus grind them in the very dust; they see, alas! they see themselves half-clothed--half-fed, that you may glut your coffers. Half-starved, they listen to the wail of wife and babe, and, with eyes upraised in prayer, they see _you_ rolling by in gilded coach, and swathed in silk attire. But--ha! again! Look--look!

they are rising in revolt against you! Speak to them before too late!

Appeal to them--quell them with the promise of the just advance of wages they demand!"

The limp figure of Sweeney took on something of a stately and majestic air. With a graceful and commanding gesture of the hand, he advanced a step or two; then, after a pause of some seconds duration, in which the lifted face grew paler, as it seemed, and the eyes a denser black, he said:

"But yesterday I looked away O'er happy lands, where suns.h.i.+ne lay In golden blots, Inlaid with spots Of shade and wild forget-me-nots."

The voice was low, but clear, and ever musical. The Professor started at the strange utterance, looked extremely confused, and, as the boisterous crowd cried "Hear, hear!" he motioned the subject to continue, with some gasping comment interjected, which, if audible, would have run thus: "My G.o.d! It's an inspirational poem!"

"My head was fair With flaxen hair--"

resumed the subject.

"Yoop-ee!" yelled an irreverent auditor.

"Silence! silence!" commanded the excited Professor in a hoa.r.s.e whisper; then, turning enthusiastically to the subject--"Go on, young man! Go on!--'_Thy head-was fair-with flaxen hair_--'"

"My head was fair With flaxen hair, And fragrant breezes, faint and rare, And warm with drouth From out the south, Blew all my curls across my mouth."

The speaker's voice, exquisitely modulated, yet resonant as the tw.a.n.g of a harp, now seemed of itself to draw and hold each listener; while a certain extravagance of gesticulation--a fantastic movement of both form and feature--seemed very near akin to fascination. And so flowed on the curious utterance:

"And, cool and sweet, My naked feet Found dewy pathways through the wheat; And out again Where, down the lane, The dust was dimpled with the rain."

In the pause following there was a breathlessness almost painful. The poem went on:

"But yesterday I heard the lay Of summer birds, when I, as they With breast and wing, All quivering With life and love, could only sing.

"My head was leant, Where, with it, blent A maiden's, o'er her instrument; While all the night, From vale to height, Was filled with echoes of delight.

"And all our dreams Were lit with gleams Of that lost land of reedy streams, Along whose brim Forever swim Pan's lilies, laughing up at him."

And still the inspired singer held rapt sway.