Jeff's prospects4 were as dark as himself. He owned nothing, not even himself, yet his dream of riches is the motive5 of my tale. Regarded as a chattel6, for whom a bill of sale would have been made as readily as for a bullock, he proved himself a man and brother by a prompt exhibition of traits too common to human nature when chance and some heroism7 on his part gave into his hands the semblance8 of a fortune.
Jeff was a native Virginian and belonged to an F.F.V. in a certain practical, legal sense which thus far had not greatly disturbed his equanimity9. His solid physique and full shining face showed that slavery had brought no horrors into his experience. He had indulged, it is true, in vague yearnings for freedom, but these had been checked by hearing that liberty meant "working for Yankees"—appalling news to an indolent soul. He was house-servant and man-of-all-work in a family whose means had always been limited, and whose men were in the Confederate army. His "missus" evinced a sort of weary content when he had been scolded or threatened into the completion of his tasks by nightfall. He then gave her and her daughters some compensation for their trials with him by producing his fiddle11 and making the warm summer evening resonant12 with a kind of music which the negro only can evoke13. Jeff was an artist, and had a complacent14 consciousness of the fact. He was a living instance of the truth that artists are born, not made. No knowledge of this gifted class had ever suggested kinship; he did not even know what the word meant, but when his cheek rested lovingly against his violin he felt that he was made of different clay from other "niggahs." During the day he indulged in moods by the divine right and impulse of genius, imitating his gifted brothers unconsciously. In waiting on the table, washing dishes, and hoeing the garden, he was as great a laggard16 as Pegasus would have been if compelled to the labors17 of a cart-horse; but when night came, and uncongenial toil18 was over, his soul expanded. His corrugated19 brow unwrinkled itself; his great black fingers flew back and forth20 over the strings21 as if driven by electricity; and electric in effect were the sounds produced by his swiftly-glancing bow.
While the spirit of music so filled his heart that he could play to the moon and silent stars, an audience inspired him with tenfold power, especially if the floor was cleared or a smooth sward selected for a dance. Rarely did he play long before all who could trip a measure were on their feet, while even the superannuated22 nodded and kept time, sighing that they were old. His services naturally came into great demand, and he was catholic in granting them—his mistress in good-natured tolerance23 acceding24 to requests which promised many forgetful hours at a time when the land was shadowed by war. So it happened that Jeff was often at the more pretending residences of the neighborhood, sometimes fiddling26 in the detached kitchen of a Southern mansion27 to the shuffle28 of heavy feet, again in the lighted parlor29, especially when Confederate troops were quartered near. It was then that his strains took on their most inspiring and elevated character. He gave wings to the dark-eyed Southern girls; their feet scarcely touched the floor as they whirled with their cavaliers in gray, or threaded the mazes30 of the cotillon then and there in vogue31.
Nor did he disdain32 an invitation to a crossroads tavern33, frequented by poor whites and enlisted34 men, or when the nights were warm, to a moonlit sward, on which he would invite his audience to a reel which left all breathless. While there was a rollicking element in the strains of his fiddle which a deacon could not resist, he, with the intuition of genius, adapted himself to the class before him. In the parlor, he called off the figures of a quadrille with a "by-yer-leave-sah" air, selecting, as a rule, the highest class of music that had blessed his ears, for he was ear-taught only. He would hold a half-washed dish suspended minutes at a time while listening to one "ob de young missys at de pianny. Dat's de way I'se pick up my most scrumptious pieces. Dey cyant play nuffin in de daytime dat I cyant 'prove on in de ebenin';" and his vanity did not lead him much astray. But when with those of his own color, or with the humbler classes, he gave them the musical vernacular35 of the region—rude traditional quicksteps and songs, strung together with such variations of his own as made him the envy and despair of all other fiddlers in the vicinity. Indeed, he could rarely get away from a great house without a sample of his powers in this direction, and then blending with the rhythmical36 cadence37 of feet, the rustle38 of garments, would be evoked39 ripples40 of mirth and bursts of laughter that were echoed back from the dim pine-groves without. Finally, when with his great foot beating time on the floor and every muscle of his body in motion, he ended with an original arrangement of "Dixie," the eyes of the gentlest maiden42 would flash as she joined the chorus of the men in gray, who were scarcely less excited for the moment than they would have been in a headlong cavalry43 charge.
These were moments of glory for Jeff. In fact, on all similar occasions he had a consciousness of his power; he made the slave forget his bondage44, the poor whites their poverty, maidens45 the absence of their fathers, brothers, and lovers, and the soldier the chances against his return.
At last there came a summer day when other music than that of Jeff's fiddle resounded46 through that region. Two armies met and grappled through the long sultry hours. Every moment death wounds were given and received, for thick as insects in woods, grove41, and thicket47, bullets whizzed on their fatal mission; while from every eminence the demoniacal shells shrieked48 in exultation49 over the havoc50 they wrought51.
Jeff's home was on the edge of the battlefield, and as he trembled in the darkest corner of the cellar, he thought, "Dis yer beats all de thunder-gusts I eber heered crack, run togedder in one big hurricane."
With the night came silence, except as it was broken by the groans52 and cries of wounded men; and later the contending forces departed, having accorded to the fallen such poor burial as was given them when life was cheap and death the chief harvester in Virginia.
For a day or two Jeff's conscience was active, and the memory of the resolutions inspired by the din25 of war gave to his thin visage a preternatural seriousness. Dishes were washed in such brief time and so thoroughly53, and such havoc made in the garden-weeds that the world might make a note of Jeff's idea of reform (to its advantage). In the evening his fiddle wailed54 out psalm-tunes to the entire exclusion55 of its former carnal strains.
It must be admitted, however, that Jeff's grace was like the early dew. On the third evening, "Ole Dan Tucker" slipped in among the hymns56, and these were played in a time scarcely befitting their character. Then came a bit of news that awakened57 a wholly different train of thought and desire. A colored boy, more venturous than himself, was said to have picked up some "Linkum" money on the battlefield. This information shed on the wild wooded tract58 where the war trumpet59 had raged the most fiercely a light more golden than that of the moon then at its full; and Jeff resolved that with the coming night he also would explore a region which, nevertheless, had nameless terrors for him.
"Ef dere's spooks anywhere dey's dereaway," he muttered over his hoe; "but den15, ki! dey woan 'fere wid dis yer niggah. What hab I'se got ter do wid de wah and de fighten an de jabbin'? De spooks cyant lay nuffin ter me eben ef ole marse an' de res' am a-fighten ter keep dere slabes, as folks say."
Having thus satisfied himself that the manes of the dead thousands could have no controversy60 with him, Jeff mustered61 sufficient resolution to visit the field that night. He took no one into his confidence, fearing if he discovered treasures of any kind he could not be left in undisturbed possession. During the day the rudiments62 of imagination which made him a musician had been conjuring63 up the possible results of his expedition.
"De ting fer dis cullud pusson ter do is ter p'ramberlate ter de Linkum lines. Ki! I doan wan64' what drap outen OUR sogers' pockets. I kin10 git Virginny leaf widouten runnin' 'mong de spooks arter it. De place fer a big fine is whar de brush is tick and de Linkum men crawl away so dey woan be tromp on. Who knows but I kin fine a place whar a ginral hide hisself? Ob cose if he hab a lot of gole he'd stick it in de bush or kiver it right smart, so dat oders moutn't get it foh he could helf hisself."
Jeff thought he had reasoned himself into such a valorous state that he could walk across the deserted65 battlefield with nonchalance66; but as he entered on a deeply shadowed dirt-road long since disused to any extent, he found strange creeping sensations running up and down his back. The moonlight filtered through the leaves with fantastic effects. A young silver poplar looked ghastly in the distance; and now and then a tree out off by a shot looked almost human in its mutilation.
He had not gone very far before he saw what appeared to be the body of a man lying across the road. With a sudden chill of blood he stopped and stared at the object. Gradually it resolved itself into a low mound67 in the dim light. Approaching cautiously, he discovered with a dull sense of horror that a soldier had been buried where he had fallen, but covered so slightly that the tumulus scarcely more than outlined his form.
"Ob cose I knowed I d hab ter see dese tings foh I started. What I such a fool fer? De Feds nor de Yanks am' a-gwine ter bodder me if I am' steppin' on 'em or ober 'em." And he went scrupulously68 on the other side of the road.
By and by, however, he came to a part of the wood-lane where men had fallen by the score, and bodies had been covered in twos, threes, and dozens. His head felt as if his very wool were straightening itself out, as he wound here and there and zigzagged69 in all directions lest he should step on or over a grave. A breeze stirred the forest as if all the thousands buried in its shades had heaved a long deep sigh. With chattering70 teeth Jeff stopped to listen, then, reassured71, continued to pick his tortuous72 way. Suddenly there was an ominous73 rustling74 in a thicket just behind. He broke into a headlong flight across and over everything, when the startled grunt75 of a hog76 revealed the prosaic77 nature of this spook. Scarcely any other sound could have been more reassuring78. The animal suggested bacon and hominy and hoe-cake, everything except the ghostly. He berated79 himself angrily:
"Ki! you niggah! dat ar hog got mo' co'age dan you. He know he hab nuffin mo' ter do wid de spooks dan you hab. De run ain' far, and when I gits ober dat de spooks on de side dis way cyant cross arter me;" and he hastened toward the spot where he supposed the Federals had been massed the most heavily, crossing an open field and splashing through a shallow place in the river, that their ghost-ships might be reminded of running water.
On the further slope were the same sad evidences of poor mortality, graves here and there and often all too shallow, broken muskets80, bullet perforated canteens and torn knapsacks—the debris81 of a pitched battle. Many trees and shrubs82 were so lacerated that their foliage83 hung limp and wilting84, while boughs85 with shrivelled leaves strewed86 the ground. Nature's wounds indicated that men had fought here and been mutilated as ruthlessly.
For a time nothing of value rewarded Jeff's search, and he began to succumb87 to the grewsome associations of the place. At last he resolved to examine one more thicket that bordered an old rail-fence, and then make a long detour88 rather than go back by the graveyard89 road over which he had come. Pushing the bushes aside, he peered among their shadows for some moments, and then uttered an exclamation90 of surprise and terror as he bounded backward. There was no mistake this time; he had seen the figure of a man with a ray of moonlight filtering through the leaves on a ghastly bullet-hole in his temple. He sat with his back against the fence, and had not moved after receiving the shock. At his feet, dropped evidently from his nerveless hand, lay a metal box. All had flashed almost instantaneously on Jeff's vision.
For some moments he was in doubt whether to take to his heels homeward or reconnoitre again. The soldier sat in such a lifelike attitude that while Jeff knew the man must be dead, taking the box seemed like robbing the living. Yes, worse than that, for, to the superstitious91 negro, the dead soldier appeared to be watching his treasure.
Jeff's cupidity92 slowly mastered his fears. Cautiously approaching the figure, he again pushed aside the screening boughs, and with chattering teeth and trembling limbs, looked upon the silent guardian93 of the treasure, half expecting the dead man to raise his head, and warn him off with a threatening gesture. Since the figure remained motionless, Jeff made a headlong plunge94, clutched the box, then ran half a mile without thinking to look back.
Not for his life would he cross the battlefield again; so it was late when by wide circuit he approached the dwelling95 of his mistress. His panic had gradually subsided96, and as he noted97 familiar objects, he felt that he was beyond the proper range of the unjust spirits of the dead.
The soldier he had left sitting against the fence troubled him, it is true; and he was not quite sure that he was through with one so palpably robbed. That he had not been followed appeared certain; that the question of future ownership of the treasure could be settled was a matter of superstitious belief. There was only one way—he must hide the box in a secret nook, and if it remained undisturbed for a reasonable length of time, he might hope for its undisturbed enjoyment98. Accordingly he stole into a dense99 copse and buried his booty at the foot of a persimmon-tree, then gained his humble1 quarter and slept so late and soundly that he had to be dragged almost without the door the next morning before he shook off his lethargy.
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1
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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prospects
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| n.希望，前途(恒为复数) | |
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motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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chattel
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| n.动产；奴隶 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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semblance
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| n.外貌，外表 | |
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equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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fiddle
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| n.小提琴；vi.拉提琴；不停拨弄，乱动 | |
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resonant
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| adj.(声音)洪亮的，共鸣的 | |
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evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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den
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| n.兽穴；秘密地方；安静的小房间，私室 | |
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laggard
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| n.落后者；adj.缓慢的，落后的 | |
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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corrugated
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| adj.波纹的；缩成皱纹的；波纹面的；波纹状的v.（使某物）起皱褶(corrugate的过去式和过去分词) | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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superannuated
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| adj.老朽的，退休的；v.因落后于时代而废除，勒令退学 | |
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23
tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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24
acceding
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| v.（正式）加入( accede的现在分词 )；答应；（通过财产的添附而）增加；开始任职 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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fiddling
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| 微小的 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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shuffle
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| n.拖著脚走，洗纸牌；v.拖曳，慢吞吞地走 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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mazes
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| 迷宫( maze的名词复数 )； 纷繁复杂的规则； 复杂难懂的细节； 迷宫图 | |
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Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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vernacular
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| adj.地方的，用地方语写成的；n.白话；行话；本国语；动植物的俗名 | |
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36
rhythmical
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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cadence
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| n.（说话声调的）抑扬顿挫 | |
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38
rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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evoked
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| [医]诱发的 | |
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40
ripples
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| 逐渐扩散的感觉( ripple的名词复数 ) | |
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41
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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42
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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43
cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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bondage
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| n.奴役，束缚 | |
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45
maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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46
resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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47
thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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48
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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exultation
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| n.狂喜，得意 | |
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50
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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51
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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52
groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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53
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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54
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
exclusion
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| n.拒绝，排除，排斥，远足，远途旅行 | |
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56
hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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57
awakened
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| v.（使）醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 )；（使）觉醒；弄醒；（使）意识到 | |
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tract
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| n.传单，小册子，大片(土地或森林) | |
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trumpet
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| n.喇叭，喇叭声；v.吹喇叭，吹嘘 | |
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controversy
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| n.争论，辩论，争吵 | |
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61
mustered
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| v.集合，召集，集结（尤指部队）( muster的过去式和过去分词 )；（自他人处）搜集某事物；聚集；激发 | |
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rudiments
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| n.基础知识，入门 | |
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conjuring
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| n.魔术 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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nonchalance
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| n.冷淡，漠不关心 | |
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67
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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68
scrupulously
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| adv.一丝不苟地；小心翼翼地，多顾虑地 | |
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69
zigzagged
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| adj.呈之字形移动的v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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70
chattering
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| n. （机器振动发出的）咔嗒声，(鸟等)鸣，啁啾 adj. 喋喋不休的，啾啾声的 动词chatter的现在分词形式 | |
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71
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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tortuous
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| adj.弯弯曲曲的，蜿蜒的 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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hog
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| n.猪；馋嘴贪吃的人；vt.把…占为己有，独占 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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berated
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| v.严厉责备，痛斥( berate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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muskets
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| n.火枪，（尤指）滑膛枪( musket的名词复数 ) | |
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debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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wilting
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| 萎蔫 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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succumb
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| v.屈服，屈从；死 | |
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detour
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| n.绕行的路，迂回路；v.迂回，绕道 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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superstitious
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| adj.迷信的 | |
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cupidity
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| n.贪心，贪财 | |
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guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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