A Cure for the Blues Part 6

To McClintock that jingling jumble of fine words meant something,
no doubt, or seemed to mean something; but it is useless for us to try
to divine what it was. Ambulinia comes--we don't know whence nor why;
she mysteriously intimates--we don't know what; and then she goes
echoing away--we don't know whither; and down comes the curtain.
McClintock's art is subtle; McClintock's art is deep.


Not many days afterward, as surrounded by fragrant flowers she sat
one evening at twilight, to enjoy the cool breeze that whispered
notes of melody along the distant groves, the little birds perched
on every side, as if to watch the movements of their new visitor.
The bells were tolling, when Elfonzo silently stole along by the wild
wood flowers, holding in his hand his favorite instrument of music--
his eye continually searching for Ambulinia, who hardly seemed
to perceive him, as she played carelessly with the songsters
that hopped from branch to branch. Nothing could be more striking
than the difference between the two. Nature seemed to have given
the more tender soul to Elfonzo, and the stronger and more courageous
to Ambulinia. A deep feeling spoke from the eyes of Elfonzo--
such a feeling as can only be expressed by those who are blessed
as admirers, and by those who are able to return the same with
sincerity of heart. He was a few years older than Ambulinia:
she had turned a little into her seventeenth. He had almost grown
up in the Cherokee country, with the same equal proportions as one
of the natives. But little intimacy had existed between them until
the year forty-one--because the youth felt that the character of such
a lovely girl was too exalted to inspire any other feeling than
that of quiet reverence. But as lovers will not always be insulted,
at all times and under all circumstances, by the frowns and cold
looks of crabbed old age, which should continually reflect dignity
upon those around, and treat the unfortunate as well as the fortunate
with a graceful mien, he continued to use diligence and perseverance.
All this lighted a spark in his heart that changed his whole character,
and like the unyielding Deity that follows the storm to check its
rage in the forest, he resolves for the first time to shake off
his embarrassment and return where he had before only worshiped.


At last we begin to get the Major's measure. We are able to put
this and that casual fact together, and build the man up before
our eyes, and look at him. And after we have got him built, we find
him worth the trouble. By the above comparison between his age
and Ambulinia's, we guess the war-worn veteran to be twenty-two;
and the other facts stand thus: he had grown up in the Cherokee
country with the same equal proportions as one of the natives--
how flowing and graceful the language, and yet how tantalizing
as to meaning!--he had been turned adrift by his father, to whom he
had been "somewhat of a dutiful son"; he wandered in distant lands;
came back frequently "to the scenes of his boyhood, almost destitute
of many of the comforts of life," in order to get into the presence
of his father's winter-worn locks, and spread a humid veil of
darkness around his expectations; but he was always promptly sent
back to the cold charity of the combat again; he learned to play
the fiddle, and made a name for himself in that line; he had dwelt
among the wild tribes; he had philosophized about the despoilers
of the kingdoms of the earth, and found out--the cunning creature--
that they refer their differences to the learned for settlement;
he had achieved a vast fame as a military chieftain, the Achilles
of the Florida campaigns, and then had got him a spelling-book
and started to school; he had fallen in love with Ambulinia Valeer
while she was teething, but had kept it to himself awhile, out of
the reverential awe which he felt for the child; but now at last,
like the unyielding Deity who follows the storm to check its rage in
the forest, he resolves to shake off his embarrassment, and to return
where before he had only worshiped. The Major, indeed, has made up
his mind to rise up and shake his faculties together, and to see
if HE can't do that thing himself. This is not clear. But no matter
about that: there stands the hero, compact and visible; and he is
no mean structure, considering that his creator had never structure,
considering that his creator had never created anything before,
and hadn't anything but rags and wind to build with this time.
It seems to me that no one can contemplate this odd creature, this quaint
and curious blatherskite, without admiring McClintock, or, at any rate,
loving him and feeling grateful to him; for McClintock made him,
he gave him to us; without McClintock we could not have had him,
and would now be poor.

But we must come to the feast again. Here is a courtship scene, down
there in the romantic glades among the raccoons, alligators, and things,
that has merit, peculiar literary merit. See how Achilles woos.
Dwell upon the second sentence (particularly the close of it) and the
beginning of the third. Never mind the new personage, Leos, who is
intruded upon us unheralded and unexplained. That is McClintock's way;
it is his habit; it is a part of his genius; he cannot help it;
he never interrupts the rush of his narrative to make introductions.


It could not escape Ambulinia's penetrating eye that he sought
an interview with her, which she as anxiously avoided, and assumed
a more distant calmness than before, seemingly to destroy all hope.
After many efforts and struggles with his own person, with timid
steps the Major approached the damsel, with the same caution
as he would have done in a field of battle. "Lady Ambulinia,"
said he, trembling, "I have long desired a moment like this.
I dare not let it escape. I fear the consequences; yet I hope
your indulgence will at least hear my petition. Can you not
anticipate what I would say, and what I am about to express?
Will not you, like Minerva, who sprung from the brain of Jupiter,
release me from thy winding chains or cure me--" "Say no more,
Elfonzo," answered Ambulinia, with a serious look, raising her hand
as if she intended to swear eternal hatred against the whole world;
"another lady in my place would have perhaps answered your question
in bitter coldness. I know not the little arts of my sex.
I care but little for the vanity of those who would chide me,
and am unwilling as well as ashamed to be guilty of anything
that would lead you to think 'all is not gold that glitters';
so be no rash in your resolution. It is better to repent now,
than to do it in a more solemn hour. Yes, I know what you would say.
I know you have a costly gift for me--the noblest that man can make--
YOUR HEART! You should not offer it to one so unworthy.
Heaven, you know, has allowed my father's house to be made a house
of solitude, a home of silent obedience, which my parents say
is more to be admired than big names and high-sounding titles.
Notwithstanding all this, let me speak the emotions of an honest heart--
allow me to say in the fullness of my hopes that I anticipate
better days. The bird may stretch its wings toward the sun,
which it can never reach; and flowers of the field appear to
ascend in the same direction, because they cannot do otherwise;
but man confides his complaints to the saints in whom he believes;
for in their abodes of light they know no more sorrow. From your
confession and indicative looks, I must be that person; if so deceive
not yourself."