Cities begin upon the day the Walls of the Shambles1 go up, to screen away Blood and Blood-letting, Animals' Cries, Smells and Soil, from Residents already grown fragile before Country Realities. The Better-Off live far as they may, from the concentration of Slaughter2. Soon, Country Melancholicks are flocking to Town like Crows, dark'ning the Sun. Dress'd Meats appear in the Market,— Sausages hang against the Sky, forming Lines of Text, cryptick Intestinal3 Commentary.
The Veery Brothers, professional effigy4 makers5, run an establishment south of the Shambles at Second and Market Streets, by the Court House. Mason, in unabating Search after the Grisly, must pay a Visit.
"Can't just have any old bundle of Rags up there, even if 'tis meant to be burnt to ashes, can we," says Cosmo, "— our Mobility6 like to feel they're burning something, don't you see? Oh, we do Jack-Boots and Pet?ticoats, bread-and-butter items the year 'round, yet we strive for at least the next order of Magnytude...."
"Here, for example, our Publick Beheading Model,— " adds his brother Damian, "or, 'the Topper,' as we like to call it, Key to ev'rything being the Neck, o' course, for after you've led them up to the one great Moment, how can you disappoint 'em wiv any less than that nice sa'isfy-ing Chhhunk! as the Blade strikes, i'n't it, and will pure Beeswax do the Job? No,— fine for the Head and whatever, but look what you've got to chop at,— spine8? throat? muscles in the neck? well,— not exactly Wax, is it? So it's on with the old Smock, lovely visit next door, scavenging among th' appropriately siz'd Necks for bones and suet and such. Then it's up to the Kiddy here to cover it all over and give it a Head with a famous, or better Infamous9, Face. He's a rare Wax Artist, our Cosmo is. Likenesses almost from another World, perhaps not a World many of us would find that comfortable. Products of the innocent Hive, Sir, and beneath, the refuse of the daily Slaughter, yes there you have it, a grisly Amalgam10, perhaps even a sort of Teaching,— sure you'd enter any dark-en'd Room our lads and lasses happen'd to be in, only upon ill advice indeed."
Which of course is exactly what Mason runs out and contrives11 to do, as soon as he gets a chance. He and Dixon go Tavern12-hopping and find secret-society meetings in the back rooms of every place they visit. There is gambling13, Madeira, carryings-on. Some invite them to join. Some they do join. "What, no floggings? No bare-breasted Acolytes14 in Chains? No ritual deflorations? Drinking-games with Madeira, that's it?"
Some of these Collegia, learning that Mason's Name is Mason, claim to be Free-Masons of one Lodge15 and another. "Anyone whose name is Mason is automatickally a Member, the first of your Name likely having work'd as a Stonemason back in the Era of the great Cathedrals,— as you are descended16 from him, so are Free-Masons today descended from his Guild-Fellows. You are a Mason ex Nomine, as some might describe it." Unless, of course, 'twas an elaborate scheme to avoid paying for Drink.
In one of these Ale Venues17, somewhere between The Indian Queen and The Duke of Gloucester, there proves to be a Back Room's back room,— for purposes of uninvited inspection18 a pantry, but in fact an Arsenal19 for various Mob activities. Anyone else out in search of Goth-ickal experiences might have found it neither quite ancient nor omi?nous enough to bother with. But Mason can ever locate those spaces most fertile for the husbanding of Melancholy20. So now, blundersome, in he steps, candle-less as well, relying upon the light of a Lanthorn hang?ing outside the small Window, waiting for his eyes to adjust, making out first two Figures, then three, and at length the Roomful, erect21, crowding close, without breath or pulse,— his immediate22 need is to speak, not challenging but pleading,— slowly, as he is able to make out more of the Faces, what he fears grows less deniable,— they are directing,
nowhere but into his own eyes, stares unbearable23 with meaning he can?not grasp, as if,— he does not wish to examine this too closely,— as if they know him, and withal, expect him—
Mason is certain he saw at least one of them at the first Meeting with the Commissioners24, the week previous,— tho', that being largely cere?monial, all the Faces then had been fram'd in more or less identical Wigs25. Yet if he recognizes me, Mason asks himself now, why doesn't he speak? groping within for the Gentleman's Name, as the enigmatic Phiz continues, in the weak light, to sharpen toward Revelation.
As it will prove, all the Effigies26 in the back room bear Faces of Com?missioners for the Boundary Line, tho' Mason, anxiously upon the look?out wherever in town they have to go, won't fully27 appreciate it till the second Meeting, on I December. The calm oval room has been furnish'd hastily, but minutes before their arrival, with a perfect Row of black comb-back'd Chairs for the Commissioners, set upon one side of a long Table, facing a Window revealing a late autumnal Garden,— white stat?ues of uncertain Gender28 leaning in sinuous29 Poses,— and across the Table, two Chairs of ordinary Second Street origin and faux-Chippendale carving30, unmatch'd, intended for the Astronomers31, who will have little to look at but the Commissioners.
Luckily for Mason, the Gentlemen enter, not all in a Troop, but in ones and pairs, so giving him a few extra moments in which to work upon his Composure, which needs it. Those waxen Faces that gaz'd at him with such midnight Intent,— here are their daytime counterparts to greet him, with the same, 0 God in Thy Mercy, the same look... as if deliber?ately to recall the other night. But how could they, could anyone, know? has he been under Surveillance ever since landing here? And,— the Figures in that far back room, were they not Effigies at all, but real peo?ple, only pretending to be Effigies, yes these very faces,— ahrrhh! (What did he interrupt them at, then, in the lampless chamber32, what Gathering33 he wasn't supposed to know about? And why couldn't he remember more clearly what had happen'd to him after he went into the Room? Was his Brain, in Mercy, withholding34 the memory?)
...As the Progress of Wax automata, by ones and twos, approaches, provoking, daring Mason to bring any of it up, the Possibility never pre?sents itself to him, that all the Line Commissioners, from both Provinces,
being political allies of the Proprietors35, are natural and obvious Effigy Fodder36 to a Mobility of Rent-payers,— as will be later pointed37 out by Dixon, who now has begun casting him curious, offended looks. Neither has slept well for a Fortnight, amid the house-rocking Ponderosities of commercial Drayage, the Barrels and Sledges38 rumbling39 at all Hours over the paving-Stones, the Town on a-hammering and brick-laying itself together about them, the street-sellers' cries, the unforeseen coales?cences of Sailors and Citizens anywhere in the neighboring night to sing Liberty and wreak40 Mischief41, hoofbeats in large numbers passing beneath the Window, the cries of Beasts from the city Shambles,— Philadelphia in the Dark, in an all-night Din7 Residents may have got accustom'd to, but which seems to the Astronomers, not yet detach'd from the liquid, dutiful lurches of the Packet thro' th' October seas, the very Mill of Hell.
"Worse than London by far," Mason brushing away Bugs43, rolling over and over, four sides at five minutes per side, a Goose upon Insomnia's Spit, uncontrollably humming to himself an idiotic44 Galop from The Rebel Weaver45, which he attended in London just before Departure, instead of Mr. Arne's Love in a Cottage, which would have been wiser. Smells of wood-smoke, horses, and human sewage blow in the windows, along with the noise. Somewhere down the Street a midnight Church congregation sings with a fervency46 unknown in Sapperton, or in Bisley, for that matter. He keeps waking with his heart racing47, fear in his Bowels48, something loud having just occurr'd...waiting for it to repeat. And as he relaxes, never knowing the precise moment it begins, the infernal deedle ee, dee-die ee, deedle-eedle-eedle-dee again.
The Rebel Weaver was set in the Golden Valley, being a light-hearted account of the late battles there between Weavers49 and Clothiers, with interludes of music, juggling50, and tricksome Animal Life. "Strangely," Mason has reported to Dixon, "I was not appall'd,— tho' I've every rea?son to be." The plot, about a Weaver's son who loves the Daughter of a Clothier, and the conflict of loyalties51 resulting, presents nothing more troubling sentimentally52, than the comick misunderstandings of an Italian Opera. One or two of the slower tunes53, lugubrious54 to some Ears, he even yet fancies, tho' this damn'd Galop is another matter.
Upon his own side of the Bed, Dixon snores in a versatility55 of Tone that Mason, were he less anxious about getting to sleep, might be taking
Notes upon, perhaps to be written up and submitted to the Philosophical56 Transactions, so unexpectedly polyphonic do some passages emerge, all at the same unhurried, yet presently infuriating, Andante. Both men lie in the Clothing they have worn all day, Dixon as faithful to field-Surveyor's custom, as Mason to that of the Star-Gazer,— his quotidian57 dress, at Greenwich, having ever doubl'd as his Observing Suit. To sleep, one simply took off the Coat,— tho' Dixon has advis'd against this here. He is of course right. The Bugs run free,— American bugs, who so much resent being brush'd off Human Surfaces, that they will bite anyone for even approaching.
That's it, then. Himself a giant Bug42, he rolls quietly from under the Counterpane and crawls from the Room,— dresses in the Hallway and upon the Stairs, and is soon insensibly translated into The Orchid58 Tav?ern, by Dock Creek59, Hat beside him, Queue a-snarl, buying too many Rounds, enjoying viciously as any recreational Traveler the quaint60 Stri-dencies of a Politics not his own, yet, before Intoxication61 sets in, contin?uing to seek, somewhere in the perilous62 Text of Faction63, Insult, and Threat, a Line or two of worth, to take home with him.
"Pennsylvania Politics? Its name is Simplicity64. Religious bodies here cannot be distinguish'd from Political Factions65. These are Quaker, Anglican, Presbyterian, German Pietist. Each prevails in its own area of the Province. Till about five years ago, the Presbyterians fought among themselves so fiercely, that despite their great Numbers, they remain'd without much Political Effect,— lately, since the Old and New Lights reach'd their Accommodation, all the other Parties have hasten'd to strike bargains with them as they may,— not least of these the Penns, who tho' Quaker by ancestry66 are Anglican in Praxis,— some even say, Tools of Rome. Mr. Shippen, upon whom you must wait for each penny you'll spend, is a Presbyterian, the City Variety, quite at ease as a mem?ber of the Governor's Council. As for the Anglicans of Philadelphia, the periodick arrival in Town of traveling ministries67 such as the Reverend MacClenaghan's have now split those Folk between traditional Pen-nites, and Reborns a-dazzle with the New Light, who are more than ready to throw in with the Presbyterians, against the Quakers,— tho' so far Quakers have been able to act in the Assembly as a body, and prevail,— "...Not sure I'm following this," Mason says.
"May you never have the need, Sir. Tis useful nonetheless, now and then, to regard Politics here, as the greater American Question in Minia?ture,— in the way that Chess represents war,— with Governor Penn a game-piece in the form of the King."
"Who'd be the Rockingham Whigs, I wonder?..."
At a short Arpeggio from the Clavier, a Voice thro' the Vapors68 announces, "The Moment now ye've all been waiting for...the Saloon of The Orchid Tavern is pleas'd to Present, the fam'd Leyden-Jar Danse Macabre69! with that Euclid of the Elecktrick, Philadelphia's own Poor Richard, in the part of Death."
Eager Applause, as into the Lanthorn-Light comes a hooded71, Scythe72-bearing Figure in Skeleton's Disguise,— tho' the Instant it begins to
speak, all sinister73 Impression is compromis'd. "Ah...? ex-cellent
Now, if I might have a few Volunteers...from what obviously, here tonight, is the Flower of Philadelphian Youth.... Behold74, Pilgrims of Prodigy75, my new Battery,— twenty-four Jars crackling and ready." Dr. Franklin now throwing back his hood70, to reveal Lenses tonight of a curi?ous shade of Aquamarine, allowing his eyes to be view'd, yet conveying a bleak76 Contentment that discourages lengthy77 Gazing. "Come, Gentle?men,— who'll be next,— that's it, go-o-od, Line of Fops, all hold hands, Line of Fops, how many have we now,— dear me, not enough, come, one
more, ever room for one more " Thus briskly collecting into Line a
dozen or so heedless Continentals78, placing into the hands of the hind79?most a Copper80 Cable from one Terminal of the Battery, and grasping the hand of the frontmost, Franklin reaches with the Blade of his Scythe to touch the other Terminal,— the Landlord at the same Instant dousing81 the Glim,— so that the resulting Tableau82 is lit by terrifying stark83 Flashes of Blue-white Light, amid the harsh Sputter84 of the Fulminous Fluid, and the giggling85, and indeed Screaming, of the Participants, Snuff flying ev'rywhere and now and then igniting in Billows of green Flame, amid infernal Columns of Smoak.
The Battery having discharg'd, Light is restor'd,— the Company presently regaining86 enough Composure to note the Arrival of a Thunder-Gust, as Windows begin to rattle87 and Trees to creak, and the Landlord rushes about trying to Draw the Curtains,— as, thereby88, the hearty89
Opposition of these Electrophiles, whose wish is ever to observe their admir'd Fluid in its least mediated90 form.
"So much for Harlequin," cries Dr. Franklin, "Let us get out into the Night's Main Drama!— There's Weather-Gear for all, this Scythe here is the perfect Shape to catch us a Bolt, perhaps a good many,— better than a Key upon a Kite, indeed,— think of it as Death's Picklock,— come, form your Line...all here?" pulling his Hood up again, " - felonious Entry, into the Anterooms of the Cre-a-torr... .Not joining us tonight, Mr. Mason?" Lowering his Lenses and staring for an Instant. Before Mason, from whom all comfort has flown, can quite reply, the Figure has turn'd and taken a Hand at the end of the Line,— the Door opens and the Wind and Rain blow in, Thunder crashes, and with odd strangl'd cries of Amusement, the Party of Seekers are plung'd out into the Storm, and vanish'd.
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1
shambles
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| n.混乱之处；废墟 | |
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slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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intestinal
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| adj.肠的；肠壁；肠道细菌 | |
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effigy
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| n.肖像 | |
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makers
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| n.制造者，制造商（maker的复数形式） | |
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mobility
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| n.可动性，变动性，情感不定 | |
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din
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| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
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spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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infamous
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| adj.声名狼藉的，臭名昭著的，邪恶的 | |
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amalgam
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| n.混合物；汞合金 | |
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contrives
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| （不顾困难地）促成某事( contrive的第三人称单数 )； 巧妙地策划，精巧地制造（如机器）； 设法做到 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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acolytes
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| n.助手( acolyte的名词复数 )；随从；新手；（天主教）侍祭 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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venues
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| n.聚集地点( venue的名词复数 )；会场；（尤指）体育比赛场所；犯罪地点 | |
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inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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arsenal
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| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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commissioners
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| n.专员( commissioner的名词复数 )；长官；委员；政府部门的长官 | |
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wigs
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| n.假发，法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
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effigies
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| n.（人的）雕像，模拟像，肖像( effigy的名词复数 ) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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gender
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| n.（生理上的）性，（名词、代词等的）性 | |
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sinuous
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| adj.蜿蜒的，迂回的 | |
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carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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astronomers
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| n.天文学者，天文学家( astronomer的名词复数 ) | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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withholding
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| 扣缴税款 | |
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proprietors
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| n.所有人，业主( proprietor的名词复数 ) | |
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fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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sledges
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| n.雪橇，雪车( sledge的名词复数 )v.乘雪橇( sledge的第三人称单数 )；用雪橇运载 | |
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rumbling
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| n. 隆隆声, 辘辘声 adj. 隆隆响的 动词rumble的现在分词 | |
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wreak
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| v.发泄；报复 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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weaver
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| n.织布工；编织者 | |
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fervency
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| n.热情的；强烈的；热烈 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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weavers
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| 织工，编织者( weaver的名词复数 ) | |
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juggling
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| n. 欺骗, 杂耍(=jugglery) adj. 欺骗的, 欺诈的 动词juggle的现在分词 | |
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loyalties
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| n.忠诚( loyalty的名词复数 )；忠心；忠于…感情；要忠于…的强烈感情 | |
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sentimentally
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| adv.富情感地 | |
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tunes
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| n.曲调，曲子( tune的名词复数 )v.调音( tune的第三人称单数 )；调整；（给收音机、电视等）调谐；使协调 | |
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lugubrious
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| adj.悲哀的，忧郁的 | |
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versatility
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| n.多才多艺，多样性，多功能 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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quotidian
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| adj.每日的，平凡的 | |
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orchid
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| n.兰花，淡紫色 | |
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creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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intoxication
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| n.wild excitement;drunkenness；poisoning | |
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perilous
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| adj.危险的，冒险的 | |
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faction
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| n.宗派，小集团；派别；派系斗争 | |
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simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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factions
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| 组织中的小派别，派系( faction的名词复数 ) | |
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ancestry
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| n.祖先，家世 | |
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ministries
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| （政府的）部( ministry的名词复数 )； 神职； 牧师职位； 神职任期 | |
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vapors
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| n.水汽，水蒸气，无实质之物( vapor的名词复数 )；自夸者；幻想 [药]吸入剂 [古]忧郁（症）v.自夸，（使）蒸发( vapor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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69
macabre
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| adj.骇人的，可怖的 | |
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70
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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71
hooded
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| adj.戴头巾的；有罩盖的；颈部因肋骨运动而膨胀的 | |
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72
scythe
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| n. 长柄的大镰刀，战车镰； v. 以大镰刀割 | |
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73
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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74
behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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75
prodigy
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| n.惊人的事物，奇迹，神童，天才，预兆 | |
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76
bleak
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| adj.(天气)阴冷的；凄凉的；暗淡的 | |
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77
lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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78
continentals
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| n.（欧洲）大陆人( continental的名词复数 ) | |
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79
hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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80
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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81
dousing
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| v.浇水在…上( douse的现在分词 )；熄灯[火] | |
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82
tableau
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| n.画面，活人画（舞台上活人扮的静态画面） | |
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83
stark
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| adj.荒凉的；严酷的；完全的；adv.完全地 | |
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84
sputter
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| n.喷溅声；v.喷溅 | |
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85
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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86
regaining
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| 复得( regain的现在分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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87
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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88
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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89
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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90
mediated
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| 调停，调解，斡旋( mediate的过去式和过去分词 )； 居间促成； 影响…的发生； 使…可能发生 | |
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