Twice Told Tales

  THE GREAT CARBUNCLE.[1]

  A MYSTERY OF THE WHITE MOUNTAINS.

  At nightfall once in the olden time, on the rugged side of one of theCrystal Hills, a party of adventurers were refreshing themselves aftera toilsome and fruitless quest for the Great Carbuncle. They had comethither, not as friends nor partners in the enterprise, but each, saveone youthful pair, impelled by his own selfish and solitary longingfor this wondrous gem. Their feeling of brotherhood, however, wasstrong enough to induce them to contribute a mutual aid in building arude hut of branches and kindling a great fire of shattered pines thathad drifted down the headlong current of the Amonoosuck, on the lowerbank of which they were to pass the night. There was but one of theirnumber, perhaps, who had become so estranged from natural sympathiesby the absorbing spell of the pursuit as to acknowledge nosatisfaction at the sight of human faces in the remote and solitaryregion whither they had ascended. A vast extent of wilderness laybetween them and the nearest settlement, while scant a mile abovetheir heads was that bleak verge where the hills throw off theirshaggy mantle of forest-trees and either robe themselves in clouds ortower naked into the sky. The roar of the Amonoosuck would have beentoo awful for endurance if only a solitary man had listened while themountain-stream talked with the wind.

  [Footnote 1: The Indian tradition on which this somewhat extravaganttale is founded is both too wild and too beautiful to be adequatelywrought up in prose. Sullivan, in his history of Maine, written sincethe Revolution, remarks that even then the existence of the GreatCarbuncle was not entirely discredited.]

  The adventurers, therefore, exchanged hospitable greetings andwelcomed one another to the hut where each man was the host and allwere the guests of the whole company. They spread their individualsupplies of food on the flat surface of a rock and partook of ageneral repast; at the close of which a sentiment of good-fellowshipwas perceptible among the party, though repressed by the idea that therenewed search for the Great Carbuncle must make them strangers againin the morning. Seven men and one young woman, they warmed themselvestogether at the fire, which extended its bright wall along the wholefront of their wigwam. As they observed the various and contrastedfigures that made up the assemblage, each man looking like acaricature of himself in the unsteady light that flickered over him,they came mutually to the conclusion that an odder society had nevermet in city or wilderness, on mountain or plain.

  The eldest of the group--a tall, lean, weatherbeaten man some sixtyyears of age--was clad in the skins of wild animals whose fashion ofdress he did well to imitate, since the deer, the wolf and the bearhad long been his most intimate companions. He was one of thoseill-fated mortals, such as the Indians told of, whom in their earlyyouth the Great Carbuncle smote with a peculiar madness and became thepassionate dream of their existence. All who visited that region knewhim as "the Seeker," and by no other name. As none could remember whenhe first took up the search, there went a fable in the valley of theSaco that for his inordinate lust after the Great Carbuncle he hadbeen condemned to wander among the mountains till the end of time,still with the same feverish hopes at sunrise, the same despair ateve. Near this miserable Seeker sat a little elderly personage wearinga high-crowned hat shaped somewhat like a crucible. He was from beyondthe sea--a Doctor Cacaphodel, who had wilted and dried himself into amummy by continually stooping over charcoal-furnaces and inhalingunwholesome fumes during his researches in chemistry and alchemy. Itwas told of him--whether truly or not--that at the commencement of hisstudies he had drained his body of all its richest blood and wastedit, with other inestimable ingredients, in an unsuccessful experiment,and had never been a well man since. Another of the adventurers wasMaster Ichabod Pigsnort, a weighty merchant and selectman of Boston,and an elder of the famous Mr. Norton's church. His enemies had aridiculous story that Master Pigsnort was accustomed to spend a wholehour after prayer-time every morning and evening in wallowing nakedamong an immense quantity of pine-tree shillings, which were theearliest silver coinage of Massachusetts. The fourth whom we shallnotice had no name that his companions knew of, and was chieflydistinguished by a sneer that always contorted his thin visage, and bya prodigious pair of spectacles which were supposed to deform anddiscolor the whole face of nature to this gentleman's perception. Thefifth adventurer likewise lacked a name, which was the greater pity,as he appeared to be a poet. He was a bright-eyed man, but woefullypined away, which was no more than natural if, as some peopleaffirmed, his ordinary diet was fog, morning mist and a slice of thedensest cloud within his reach, sauced with moonshine whenever hecould get it. Certain it is that the poetry which flowed from him hada smack of all these dainties. The sixth of the party was a young manof haughty mien and sat somewhat apart from the rest, wearing hisplumed hat loftily among his elders, while the fire glittered on therich embroidery of his dress and gleamed intensely on the jewelledpommel of his sword. This was the lord De Vere, who when at home wassaid to spend much of his time in the burial-vault of his deadprogenitors rummaging their mouldy coffins in search of all theearthly pride and vainglory that was hidden among bones and dust; sothat, besides his own share, he had the collected haughtiness of hiswhole line of ancestry. Lastly, there was a handsome youth in rusticgarb, and by his side a blooming little person in whom a delicateshade of maiden reserve was just melting into the rich glow of a youngwife's affection. Her name was Hannah, and her husband's Matthew--twohomely names, yet well enough adapted to the simple pair who seemedstrangely out of place among the whimsical fraternity whose wits hadbeen set agog by the Great Carbuncle.

  Beneath the shelter of one hut, in the bright blaze of the same fire,sat this varied group of adventurers, all so intent upon a singleobject that of whatever else they began to speak their closing wordswere sure to be illuminated with the Great Carbuncle. Several relatedthe circumstances that brought them thither. One had listened to atraveller's tale of this marvellous stone in his own distant country,and had immediately been seized with such a thirst for beholding it ascould only be quenched in its intensest lustre. Another, so long agoas when the famous Captain Smith visited these coasts, had seen itblazing far at sea, and had felt no rest in all the intervening yearstill now that he took up the search. A third, being encamped on ahunting-expedition full forty miles south of the White Mountains,awoke at midnight and beheld the Great Carbuncle gleaming like ameteor, so that the shadows of the trees fell backward from it. Theyspoke of the innumerable attempts which had been made to reach thespot, and of the singular fatality which had hitherto withheld successfrom all adventurers, though it might seem so easy to follow to itssource a light that overpowered the moon and almost matched the sun.It was observable that each smiled scornfully at the madness of everyother in anticipating better fortune than the past, yet nourished ascarcely-hidden conviction that he would himself be the favored one.As if to allay their too sanguine hopes, they recurred to the Indiantraditions that a spirit kept watch about the gem and bewildered thosewho sought it either by removing it from peak to peak of the higherhills or by calling up a mist from the enchanted lake over which ithung. But these tales were deemed unworthy of credit, all professingto believe that the search had been baffled by want of sagacity orperseverance in the adventurers, or such other causes as mightnaturally obstruct the passage to any given point among theintricacies of forest, valley and mountain.

  In a pause of the conversation the wearer of the prodigious spectacleslooked round upon the party, making each individual in turn the objectof the sneer which invariably dwelt upon his countenance.

  "So, fellow-pilgrims," said he, "here we are, seven wise men and onefair damsel, who doubtless is as wise as any graybeard of the company.Here we are, I say, all bound on the same goodly enterprise. Methinks,now, it were not amiss that each of us declare what he proposes to dowith the Great Carbuncle, provided he have the good hap to clutchit.--What says our friend in the bearskin? How mean you, good sir, toenjoy the prize which you have been seeking the Lord knows how longamong the Crystal Hills?"


  "How enjoy it!" exclaimed the aged Seeker, bitterly. "I hope for noenjoyment from it: that folly has past long ago. I keep up the searchfor this accursed stone because the vain ambition of my youth hasbecome a fate upon me in old age. The pursuit alone is my strength,the energy of my soul, the warmth of my blood and the pith and marrowof my bones. Were I to turn my back upon it, I should fall down deadon the hither side of the notch which is the gateway of thismountain-region. Yet not to have my wasted lifetime back again would Igive up my hopes of is deemed little better than a traffic with theevil one. Now, think ye that I would have done this grievous wrong tomy soul, body, reputation and estate without a reasonable chance ofprofit?"

  "Not I, pious Master Pigsnort," said the man with the spectacles. "Inever laid such a great folly to thy charge."

  "Truly, I hope not," said the merchant. "Now, as touching this GreatCarbuncle, I am free to own that I have never had a glimpse of it,but, be it only the hundredth part so bright as people tell, it willsurely outvalue the Great Mogul's best diamond, which he holds at anincalculable sum; wherefore I am minded to put the Great Carbuncle onshipboard and voyage with it to England, France, Spain, Italy, or intoheathendom if Providence should send me thither, and, in a word,dispose of the gem to the best bidder among the potentates of theearth, that he may place it among his crown-jewels. If any of ye havea wiser plan, let him expound it."

  "That have I, thou sordid man!" exclaimed the poet. "Dost thou desirenothing brighter than gold, that thou wouldst transmute all thisethereal lustre into such dross as thou wallowest in already? Formyself, hiding the jewel under my cloak, I shall hie me back to myattic-chamber in one of the darksome alleys of London. There night andday will I gaze upon it. My soul shall drink its radiance; it shall bediffused throughout my intellectual powers and gleam brightly in everyline of poesy that I indite. Thus long ages after I am gone thesplendor of the Great Carbuncle will blaze around my name."

  "Well said, Master Poet!" cried he of the spectacles. "Hide it underthy cloak, sayest thou? Why, it will gleam through the holes and makethee look like a jack-o'-lantern!"

  "To think," ejaculated the lord De Vere, rather to himself than hiscompanions, the best of whom he held utterly unworthy of hisintercourse--"to think that a fellow in a tattered cloak should talkof conveying the Great Carbuncle to a garret in Grubb street! Have notI resolved within myself that the whole earth contains no fitterornament for the great hall of my ancestral castle? There shall itflame for ages, making a noonday of midnight, glittering on the suitsof armor, the banners and escutcheons, that hang around the wall, andkeeping bright the memory of heroes. Wherefore have all otheradventurers sought the prize in vain but that I might win it and makeit a symbol of the glories of our lofty line? And never on the diademof the White Mountains did the Great Carbuncle hold a place half sohonored as is reserved for it in the hall of the De Veres."

  "It is a noble thought," said the cynic, with an obsequious sneer."Yet, might I presume to say so, the gem would make a rare sepulchrallamp, and would display the glories of Your Lordship's progenitorsmore truly in the ancestral vault than in the castle-hall."

  "Nay, forsooth," observed Matthew, the young rustic, who sat hand inhand with his bride, "the gentleman has bethought himself of aprofitable use for this bright stone. Hannah here and I are seeking itfor a like purpose."

  "How, fellow?" exclaimed His Lordship, in surprise. "What castle-hallhast thou to hang it in?"

  "No castle," replied Matthew, "but as neat a cottage as any withinsight of the Crystal Hills. Ye must know, friends, that Hannah and I,being wedded the last week, have taken up the search of the GreatCarbuncle because we shall need its light in the long winter eveningsand it will be such a pretty thing to show the neighbors when theyvisit us! It will shine through the house, so that we may pick up apin in any corner, and will set all the windows a-glowing as if therewere a great fire of pine-knots in the chimney. And then how pleasant,when we awake in the night, to be able to see one another's faces!"

  There was a general smile among the adventurers at the simplicity ofthe young couple's project in regard to this wondrous and invaluablestone, with which the greatest monarch on earth might have been proudto adorn his palace. Especially the man with spectacles, who hadsneered at all the company in turn, now twisted his visage into suchan expression of ill-natured mirth that Matthew asked him ratherpeevishly what he himself meant to do with the Great Carbuncle.

  "The Great Carbuncle!" answered the cynic, with ineffable scorn. "Why,you blockhead, there is no such thing in _rerum natura_. I havecome three thousand miles, and am resolved to set my foot on everypeak of these mountains and poke my head into every chasm for the solepurpose of demonstrating to the satisfaction of any man one whit lessan ass than thyself that the Great Carbuncle is all a humbug."

  Vain and foolish were the motives that had brought most of theadventurers to the Crystal Hills, but none so vain, so foolish, and soimpious too, as that of the scoffer with the prodigious spectacles. Hewas one of those wretched and evil men whose yearnings are downward tothe darkness instead of heavenward, and who, could they but extinguishthe lights which God hath kindled for us, would count the midnightgloom their chiefest glory.

  As the cynic spoke several of the party were startled by a gleam ofred splendor that showed the huge shapes of the surrounding mountainsand the rock-bestrewn bed of the turbulent river, with an illuminationunlike that of their fire, on the trunks and black boughs of theforest-trees. They listened for the roll of thunder, but heardnothing, and were glad that the tempest came not near them. Thestars--those dial-points of heaven--now warned the adventurers toclose their eyes on the blazing logs and open them in dreams to theglow of the Great Carbuncle.

  The young married couple had taken their lodgings in the farthestcorner of the wigwam, and were separated from the rest of the party bya curtain of curiously-woven twigs such as might have hung in deepfestoons around the bridal-bower of Eve. The modest little wife hadwrought this piece of tapestry while the other guests were talking.She and her husband fell asleep with hands tenderly clasped, and awokefrom visions of unearthly radiance to meet the more blessed light ofone another's eyes. They awoke at the same instant and with one happysmile beaming over their two faces, which grew brighter with theirconsciousness of the reality of life and love. But no sooner did sherecollect where they were than the bride peeped through theinterstices of the leafy curtain and saw that the outer room of thehut was deserted.

  "Up, dear Matthew!" cried she, in haste. "The strange folk are allgone. Up this very minute, or we shall lose the Great Carbuncle!"

  In truth, so little did these poor young people deserve the mightyprize which had lured them thither that they had slept peacefully allnight and till the summits of the hills were glittering with sunshine,while the other adventurers had tossed their limbs in feverishwakefulness or dreamed of climbing precipices, and set off to realizetheir dreams with the curliest peep of dawn. But Matthew and Hannahafter their calm rest were as light as two young deer, and merelystopped to say their prayers and wash themselves in a cold pool of theAmonoosuck, and then to taste a morsel of food ere they turned theirfaces to the mountain-side. It was a sweet emblem of conjugalaffection as they toiled up the difficult ascent gathering strengthfrom the mutual aid which they afforded.

  After several little accidents, such as a torn robe, a lost shoe andthe entanglement of Hannah's hair in a bough, they reached the upperverge of the forest and were now to pursue a more adventurous course.The innumerable trunks and heavy foliage of the trees had hithertoshut in their thoughts, which now shrank affrighted from the region ofwind and cloud and naked rocks and desolate sunshine that roseimmeasurably above them. They gazed back at the obscure wildernesswhich they had traversed, and longed to be buried again in its depthsrather than trust themselves to so vast and visible a solitude.

  "Shall we go on?" said Matthew, throwing his arm round Hannah's waistboth to protect her and to comfort his heart by drawing her close toit.


  But the little bride, simple as she was, had a woman's love of jewels,and could not forego the hope of possessing the very brightest in theworld, in spite of the perils with which it must be won.

  "Let us climb a little higher," whispered she, yet tremulously, as sheturned her face upward to the lonely sky.

  "Come, then," said Matthew, mustering his manly courage and drawingher along with him; for she became timid again the moment that he grewbold.

  And upward, accordingly, went the pilgrims of the Great Carbuncle, nowtreading upon the tops and thickly-interwoven branches of dwarf pineswhich by the growth of centuries, though mossy with age, had barelyreached three feet in altitude. Next they came to masses and fragmentsof naked rock heaped confusedly together like a cairn reared by giantsin memory of a giant chief. In this bleak realm of upper air nothingbreathed, nothing grew; there was no life but what was concentred intheir two hearts; they had climbed so high that Nature herself seemedno longer to keep them company. She lingered beneath them within theverge of the forest-trees, and sent a farewell glance after herchildren as they strayed where her own green footprints had neverbeen. But soon they were to be hidden from her eye. Densely and darkthe mists began to gather below, casting black spots of shadow on thevast landscape and sailing heavily to one centre, as if the loftiestmountain-peak had summoned a council of its kindred clouds. Finallythe vapors welded themselves, as it were, into a mass, presenting theappearance of a pavement over which the wanderers might have trodden,but where they would vainly have sought an avenue to the blessed earthwhich they had lost. And the lovers yearned to behold that green earthagain--more intensely, alas! than beneath a clouded sky they had everdesired a glimpse of heaven. They even felt it a relief to theirdesolation when the mists, creeping gradually up the mountain,concealed its lonely peak, and thus annihilated--at least, forthem--the whole region of visible space. But they drew closer togetherwith a fond and melancholy gaze, dreading lest the universal cloudshould snatch them from each other's sight. Still, perhaps, they wouldhave been resolute to climb as far and as high between earth andheaven as they could find foothold if Hannah's strength had not begunto fail, and with that her courage also. Her breath grew short. Sherefused to burden her husband with her weight, but often totteredagainst his side, and recovered herself each time by a feebler effort.At last she sank down on one of the rocky steps of the acclivity.

  "We are lost, dear Matthew," said she, mournfully; "we shall neverfind our way to the earth again. And oh how happy we might have beenin our cottage!"

  "Dear heart, we will yet be happy there," answered Matthew. "Look! Inthis direction the sunshine penetrates the dismal mist; by its aid Ican direct our course to the passage of the Notch. Let us go back,love, and dream no more of the Great Carbuncle."

  "The sun cannot be yonder," said Hannah, with despondence. "By thistime it must be noon; if there could ever be any sunshine here, itwould come from above our heads."

  "But look!" repeated Matthew, in a somewhat altered tone. "It isbrightening every moment. If not sunshine, what can it be?"

  Nor could the young bride any longer deny that a radiance was breakingthrough the mist and changing its dim hue to a dusky red, whichcontinually grew more vivid, as if brilliant particles were interfusedwith the gloom. Now, also, the cloud began to roll away from themountain, while, as it heavily withdrew, one object after anotherstarted out of its impenetrable obscurity into sight with preciselythe effect of a new creation before the indistinctness of the oldchaos had been completely swallowed up. As the process went on theysaw the gleaming of water close at their feet, and found themselves onthe very border of a mountain-lake, deep, bright, clear and calmlybeautiful, spreading from brim to brim of a basin that had beenscooped out of the solid rock. A ray of glory flashed across itssurface. The pilgrims looked whence it should proceed, but closedtheir eyes, with a thrill of awful admiration, to exclude the fervidsplendor that glowed from the brow of a cliff impending over theenchanted lake.

  For the simple pair had reached that lake of mystery and found thelong-sought shrine of the Great Carbuncle. They threw their armsaround each other and trembled at their own success, for as thelegends of this wondrous gem rushed thick upon their memory they feltthemselves marked out by fate, and the consciousness was fearful.Often from childhood upward they had seen it shining like a distantstar, and now that star was throwing its intensest lustre on theirhearts. They seemed changed to one another's eyes in the redbrilliancy that flamed upon their cheeks, while it lent the same fireto the lake, the rocks and sky, and to the mists which had rolled backbefore its power. But with their next glance they beheld an objectthat drew their attention even from the mighty stone. At the base ofthe cliff, directly beneath the Great Carbuncle, appeared the figureof a man with his arms extended in the act of climbing and his faceturned upward as if to drink the full gush of splendor. But he stirrednot, no more than if changed to marble.

  "It is the Seeker," whispered Hannah, convulsively grasping herhusband's arm. "Matthew, he is dead."

  "The joy of success has killed him," replied Matthew, tremblingviolently. "Or perhaps the very light of the Great Carbuncle wasdeath."

  "'The Great Carbuncle'!" cried a peevish voice behind them. "The greathumbug! If you have found it, prithee point it out to me."

  They turned their heads, and there was the cynic with his prodigiousspectacles set carefully on his nose, staring now at the lake, now atthe rocks, now at the distant masses of vapor, now right at the GreatCarbuncle itself, yet seemingly as unconscious of its light as if allthe scattered clouds were condensed about his person. Though itsradiance actually threw the shadow of the unbeliever at his own feetas he turned his back upon the glorious jewel, he would not beconvinced that there was the least glimmer there.

  "Where is your great humbug?" he repeated. "I challenge you to make mesee it."

  "There!" said Matthew, incensed at such perverse blindness, andturning the cynic round toward the illuminated cliff. "Take off thoseabominable spectacles, and you cannot help seeing it."

  Now, these colored spectacles probably darkened the cynic's sight inat least as great a degree as the smoked glasses through which peoplegaze at an eclipse. With resolute bravado, however, he snatched themfrom his nose and fixed a bold stare full upon the ruddy blaze of theGreat Carbuncle. But scarcely had he encountered it when, with a deep,shuddering groan, he dropped his head and pressed both hands acrosshis miserable eyes. Thenceforth there was in very truth no light ofthe Great Carbuncle, nor any other light on earth, nor light of heavenitself, for the poor cynic. So long accustomed to view all objectsthrough a medium that deprived them of every glimpse of brightness, asingle flash of so glorious a phenomenon, striking upon his nakedvision, had blinded him for ever.

  "Matthew," said Hannah, clinging to him, "let us go hence."

  Matthew saw that she was faint, and, kneeling down, supported her inhis arms while he threw some of the thrillingly-cold water of theenchanted lake upon her face and bosom. It revived her, but could notrenovate her courage.

  "Yes, dearest," cried Matthew, pressing her tremulous form to hisbreast; "we will go hence and return to our humble cottage. Theblessed sunshine and the quiet moonlight shall come through ourwindow. We will kindle the cheerful glow of our hearth at eventide andbe happy in its light. But never again will we desire more light thanall the world may share with us."

  "No," said his bride, "for how could we live by day or sleep by nightin this awful blaze of the Great Carbuncle?"

  Out of the hollow of their hands they drank each a draught from thelake, which presented them its waters uncontaminated by an earthlylip. Then, lending their guidance to the blinded cynic, who utterednot a word, and even stifled his groans in his own most wretchedheart, they began to descend the mountain. Yet as they left the shore,till then untrodden, of the spirit's lake, they threw a farewellglance toward the cliff and beheld the vapors gathering in densevolumes, through which the gem burned duskily.

  As touching th
e other pilgrims of the Great Carbuncle, the legend goeson to tell that the worshipful Master Ichabod Pigsnort soon gave upthe quest as a desperate speculation, and wisely resolved to betakehimself again to his warehouse, near the town-dock, in Boston. But ashe passed through the Notch of the mountains a war-party of Indianscaptured our unlucky merchant and carried him to Montreal, thereholding him in bondage till by the payment of a heavy ransom he hadwoefully subtracted from his hoard of pine-tree shillings. By his longabsence, moreover, his affairs had become so disordered that for therest of his life, instead of wallowing in silver, he had seldom asixpence-worth of copper. Doctor Cacaphodel, the alchemist, returnedto his laboratory with a prodigious fragment of granite, which heground to powder, dissolved in acids, melted in the crucible and burntwith the blowpipe, and published the result of his experiments in oneof the heaviest folios of the day. And for all these purposes the gemitself could not have answered better than the granite. The poet, by asomewhat similar mistake, made prize of a great piece of ice which hefound in a sunless chasm of the mountains, and swore that itcorresponded in all points with his idea of the Great Carbuncle. Thecritics say that, if his poetry lacked the splendor of the gem, itretained all the coldness of the ice. The lord De Vere went back tohis ancestral hall, where he contented himself with a wax-lightedchandelier, and filled in due course of time another coffin in theancestral vault. As the funeral torches gleamed within that darkreceptacle, there was no need of the Great Carbuncle to show thevanity of earthly pomp.

  The cynic, having cast aside his spectacles, wandered about the worlda miserable object, and was punished with an agonizing desire of lightfor the wilful blindness of his former life. The whole night long hewould lift his splendor-blasted orbs to the moon and stars; he turnedhis face eastward at sunrise as duly as a Persian idolater; he made apilgrimage to Rome to witness the magnificent illumination of SaintPeter's church, and finally perished in the Great Fire of London, intothe midst of which he had thrust himself with the desperate idea ofcatching one feeble ray from the blaze that was kindling earth andheaven.

  Matthew and his bride spent many peaceful years and were fond oftelling the legend of the Great Carbuncle. The tale, however, towardthe close of their lengthened lives, did not meet with the fullcredence that had been accorded to it by those who remembered theancient lustre of the gem. For it is affirmed that from the hour whentwo mortals had shown themselves so simply wise as to reject a jewelwhich would have dimmed all earthly things its splendor waned. Whenour pilgrims reached the cliff, they found only an opaque stone withparticles of mica glittering on its surface. There is also a traditionthat as the youthful pair departed the gem was loosened from theforehead of the cliff and fell into the enchanted lake, and that atnoontide the Seeker's form may still be seen to bend over itsquenchless gleam.

  Some few believe that this inestimable stone is blazing as of old, andsay that they have caught its radiance, like a flash of summerlightning, far down the valley of the Saco. And be it owned that manya mile from the Crystal Hills I saw a wondrous light around theirsummits, and was lured by the faith of poesy to be the latest pilgrimof the Great Carbuncle.