THE TRIALS OF A NEEDLEWOMAN.[9]
BY T. S. ARTHUR.
(Continued from page 440.)
WITHOUTventuring the remotest allusion to her parting with her lover, Miss Ballantine commenced her narrative by saying—
"When I left New York with my father, for New Orleans, no voyage could have promised fairer. Mild, sunny weather, with good breezes and a noble ship, that scarcely seemed to feel the deep swell of the ocean, bore us pleasantly on towards the desired port. But, when only five days out, an awful calamity befel us. One night I was awakened from sleep by a terrific crash; and in a little while the startling cry of 'the ship's on fire!' thrilled upon my ear, and sent an icy shudder to my heart. I arose from my berth, and put on my clothes hastily. By this time my father had come, dreadfully agitated, into the cabin; and while his own lips quivered, and his own voice trembled, he endeavored to quiet my fears, by telling me that there was no danger; that the ship had been struck with lightning; but that the fire occasioned thereby would readily be put out.
"When I ascended to the deck, however, I saw that we had little to hope for. While the masts and rigging were all enveloped in flame, a dense smoke was rising from the hold, indicating that the electric fluid, in its descent through the ship, had come in contact with something in the cargo that was highly combustible. Passengers and crew stood looking on with pale, horror-stricken faces. But the captain, a man of self-possession, aroused all from their lethargy by ordering, in a loud, clear voice, the masts and rigging to be cut away instantly. This order was obeyed. Over went, crashing and hissing, three noble masts, with their wealth of canvas, all enveloped in flames, quenching the heaven-enkindled fires in the ocean. Then all was breathless and silent as the grave for some moments, when a broad flash lit up the air, and revealed, for an instant, the dismantled deck upon which we stood, followed by a pealing crash that made the ship tremble. The deep silence that succeeded was broken by the voice of the captain. His tones were cheerful and confident.
"'All will now be well!' he cried. 'We are saved from fire, and our good hull will bear us safely up until we meet a passing ship.'
"'But there is fire below, captain,' said one.
"'It cannot burn without air,' he replied, in the same tone of confidence. 'We will keep the hatches closed and sealed; and it must go out.'
"This took a load from my bosom. I saw that what he said was reasonable. But when daylight came, it showed the smoke oozing out through every crevice in the deck. The floors, too, were hot to the feet, and indicated an advanced state of the fire within. All was again terror and confusion, but our captain still remained self-possessed. He saw that every hope of saving the ship was gone; and at once ordered all the boats made ready, and well stored with provisions. To the first and second mates, with a portion of the crew, he assigned two of the boats, and in the third and largest he embarked himself with four stout men and the passengers, twelve in all. The sky was still overcast with clouds, and the sea rolled heavily from the effects of the brief but severe storm that had raged in the night. Pushing off from the doomed vessel, we lingered near for a couple of hours to see what her fate would be. At the end of that time, the dense smoke which had nearly hidden her from our view, suddenly became one enveloping mass of flame. It was a beautiful, yet appalling sight, to see that noble vessel thus burning upon the breast of the sea! For nearly an hour her form, sheeted in fire, stood out distinctly against the face of the sky, and then she went down, and left only a few charred and mutilated fragments afloat upon the surface to tell of her doom.
"During the night that followed, it stormed terribly, and in it our boat was separated from the other two. We never met again, and for all I have ever learned to the contrary, those that were saved in them from the burning ship perished from hunger, or were overwhelmed by some eager wave of the ocean.
"The four men of the ship's crew, with the captain and the male passengers, labored alternately at the oars, but with little effect. Heavyseas, and continued stormy weather, rendered of little avail all efforts to make much headway towards any port. Our main hope was that of meeting with some vessel. But this hope mocked us day after day. No ship showed her white sails upon the broad expanse of waters that stretched, far as the eye could reach, in all directions. Thus ten days passed, and our provisions and water were nearly exhausted. Three of the passengers had become already very ill, and all of us were more or less sick from exposure to the rain and sea. On the twelfth day, two of our number died and were cast overboard. Others became sick, and by the time we had been floating about thus for the space of twenty days, only four of the twelve remained. Most of them died with a raging fever. The captain was among the number, and there was now no one to whom we could look with confidence. My father still lived, though exceedingly ill. Our companions were now reduced to a young man and his sister.
"A bag of biscuit still remained, and a small portion of water. Of this, none but myself could eat. The rest were too sick. Three days more passed, and I was alone with my father! The brother and his sister died, and with my own hands I had to consign them to their grave in the sea. I need not attempt to give any true idea of my feelings when I found myself thus alone, with my father just on the brink of death, afar in the midst of the ocean. He was unconscious; and I felt that I was on the verge of delirium. A strong fever made the blood rush wildly through my veins, causing my temples to throb as if they would burst. From about this time consciousness forsook me. I can recollect little more until I found myself lying in a berth, on board of a strange vessel. I was feeble as an infant. A man, with the aspect of a foreigner, sat near me. He spoke to me, but in a foreign tongue. I understood, and could speak French, Spanish, and Italian; but I had never studied German, and this man was a Hollander. Of course, I understood but a word here and there, and not sufficient to gain any intelligence from what he said, or to make him comprehend me, except when I asked for my father. Then he understood me, and pointing across the cabin, gave me to know that my father was with me in the ship, though very sick.
"Small portions of nourishing food were now offered at frequent intervals, and, as my appetite came back keenly, and I took the scanty supply that was allowed me, I gradually gained strength. In a week I was able to leave my berth, and to walk, with the assistance of the captain of the vessel, for he it was whom I had first seen on the restoration of consciousness, to the state room in which my father lay. Oh! how he had changed! I hardly recognized him. His face had grown long and thin, his eyes were sunken far back in his head, and his hair, that had been scarcely touched with the frosts of age when we left New York, was white! He did not know me, although he looked me feebly in the face. The sound of my voice seemed to rouse him a little, but he only looked at me with a more earnest gaze, and then closed his eyes. From this time I was his constant nurse, and was soon blessed with finding him gradually recovering. But as health came back to his body, it was too appallingly visible that his reason had been shattered. He soon came to know me, to speak to me, and to caress me, with more than his usual fondness; but his mind was—alas! too evidently—imbecile. As this state of mental alienation showed itself more and more distinctly, on his gradually acquiring physical strength, it seemed as if the painful fact would kill me. But we are formed to endure great extremes of bodily and mental anguish. The bow will bend far before it breaks.
"After I had recovered so as to leave my berth entirely, and when, I suppose, the captain thought it would be safe to question me, he brought a map, and indicated plainly enough that he wished me to point out the country I was from. I laid my hand upon the United States. He looked surprised. I glanced around at the ship, and then pointed to the map with a look of inquiry. He placed his finger near the Island of St. Helena. It was now my turn to look surprised. By signs I wished him to tell me how we should get back; and he indicated, plainly enough, that he would put us on board of the first vessel he met that was returning either to Europe or the United States, or else would leave us at the Cape of Good Hope. But day after day passed, and we met no returning vessel. Before we reached the Cape, a most terrific storm came on, which continued many days, in which the ship lost two of her masts, and was driven far south. It seemed to me as if my father and I had been doomed to perish in the ocean, and the sea would not, therefore, relinquish its prey. It was ten or twelve days before the storm had sufficiently abated to leave the vessel manageable in the hands of the captain and crew, and then the captain's reckoning was gone. He could get his latitude correctly, but not his longitude, except by a remote approximation. His first observation, when the sky gave an opportunity, showed us to be inlatitude forty-five degrees south. This he explained to me, and also the impracticability of now making the Cape, pointing out upon the map the Swan River Settlement in Australia as the point he should endeavor first to make. A heavy ship, with but one mast, made but slow progress. On the third day another storm overtook us, and we were driven before the gale at a furious rate. That night our vessel struck and went to pieces. Six of us escaped, my father among the rest, and the captain, in a boat, and were thrown upon the shore of an uninhabited island. In the morning there lay floating in a little protected cove of the island barrels of provisions, as pork, fish, bread, and flour, with chests, and numerous fragments of the ship, and portions of the cargo. The captain and sailors at once set about securing all that could possibly be rescued from the water, and succeeded in getting provisions and clothing enough to last all of us for many months, if, unfortunately, we should not earlier be relieved from our dreadful situation. My father had become strong enough to go about and take care of himself, but his mind was feebler, and he seemed more like an old man in his second childhood than one in the prime of life as he was. He was not troublesome to any one, nor was there any fear of trusting him by himself. He was only like an imbecile old man—and such even the captain thought him.
"A thing which I failed to mention in its place, I might as well allude to here. On recovery from that state of physical exhaustion in which the humane captain of the Dutch East Indiaman had found me, my hand rested accidentally upon the pocket of my father's coat, which hung up in the state room that had been assigned to him. His pocket-book was there. It instantly occurred to me to examine it, and see how much money it contained, for I knew that, unless we had money, before getting back, we would be subjected to inconvenience, annoyance, and great privation; and as my father seemed to be so weak in mind, all the care of providing for our comfort, I saw, would devolve upon me. I instantly removed the pocket-book, which was large. I found a purse in the same pocket, and took that also. With these I retired into my own state-room, and fastening the door inside, commenced an examination of their contents. The purse contained twenty eagles; and in the apartments of the pocket-book were ten eagles more, making three hundred dollars in gold. In bank bills there were five of one thousand dollars each, ten of one hundred dollars, and about two hundred dollars in smaller amounts, all of New York city banks. These I took and carefully sewed up in one of my under garments, and also did the same with the gold. I mention this, as it bears with importance upon our subsequent history.
"A temporary shelter was erected; a large pole with a white flag fastened to it, as a signal to any passing vessel, was set up; and the captain, with two of his men, set out to explore the island. They were gone for two days. On returning, they reported no inhabitants, but plenty of good game, if any way could be devised to take it. No vessel appearing, after the lapse of some twelve or fifteen days, the men set about building for us a more comfortable place of shelter. One of these had been a carpenter, and as an axe and saw, and some few tools, had come ashore on pieces of the wreck, and in chests, he was enabled to put up a very comfortable tenement, with an apartment for me partitioned off from the main room.
"Here we remained for I can scarcely tell how long. It was, I believe, for about a year and a half: during which time two of the men died, and our party was reduced to four. About this period, when all of us began to feel sick from hope deferred, and almost to wish that we might die, a heavy storm came up, with wind from the north-west, and blew heavily for three or four days. On the morning of the fourth day, when the wind had subsided, a vessel, driven out of her course, was seen within a few leagues of the land. Signals were instantly made, and our eyes gladdened by the sight of a boat which was put off from the ship. In this we soon embarked, and, with a sensation of wild delight, found ourselves once more treading the deck of a good vessel. She was an English merchantman, bound for Canton. We made a quick passage to that port, where we found a vessel just ready to sail for Liverpool. In this I embarked, with my father, who still remained in the same sad state of mental derangement. No incident, worthy of referring to now, occurred on our passage to Liverpool, whence we embarked direct for New Orleans, at which place we arrived, after having been absent from our native land for the long space of nearly three years! How different were my feelings, my hopes, my heart, on the day I returned to that city eight years from the time I left it as a gay child, with the world all new and bright and beautiful before me! I need not draw the contrast. Your own thoughts can do that vividly enough.
"You can scarcely imagine the eagerness with which I looked forward to an arrival in my nativecity. We had friends there, and a fortune, and I fed my heart with the pleasing hope that skilful physicians would awaken my father's slumbering reason into renewed and healthy activity. Arrived there at last, we took lodgings at a hotel, where I wrote a brief note to my father's partner, in whose hands all the business had been, of course, during our absence, stating a few facts as to our long absence and asking him to attend upon us immediately. After dispatching this note, I waited in almost breathless expectation, looking every moment to see Mr. Paralette enter. But hour after hour passed, and no one came. Then I sent notes to two or three of my father's friends, whom I recollected, but met with no response during the day. All this strange indifference was incomprehensible to me. It was, in part, explained to my mind on the next morning, when one of the persons to whom I had written called, and was shown up into our parlor by request. There was a coldness and reserve about him, combined with a too evident suspicion that it was not all as I had said. That my father was not Mr. Ballantine, nor I his daughter—but both, in fact, impostors! And certain it is that the white-headed imbecile old man bore but little resemblance to the fine, manly, robust form, which my father presented three years before. The visitor questioned and cross-questioned me; and failed not to hint at what seemed to him discrepancies, and even impossibilities in my story. I felt indignant at this, at the same time that my heart sank at the suddenly flashing conviction that, after all our sufferings and long weary exile from our home, we should find ourselves but strangers in the land of our birth—be even repulsed from our own homestead.
"Our visitor retired after an interview of about half an hour, giving me to understand pretty plainly that he thought both my father and myself impostors. His departure left me faint and sick at heart. But from this state I aroused myself, after a while, and determined to go and see Mr. Paralette at once. A servant called a carriage, and I ordered the driver to take me to the store of Ballantine & Paralette.
"'There is no such a firm now, madam,' he said; 'Mr. Ballantine was lost at sea some years ago. It is Paralette & Co. now.'
"'Drive me there, then,' I said, in a choking voice.
"In a few minutes the carriage stopped at the place I had designated, and I entered the store formerly kept by my father. Though I had been absent for eight years, yet everything looked familiar, and nothing more familiar than the face of Mr. Paralette, my father's partner. I advanced to meet him with a quick step, but his look of unrecognition, and the instant remembrance that he had not attended to my note, and moreover that it had been plainly hinted to me that I was an impostor, made me hesitate, and my whole manner to become confused.
"'Eugenia Ballantine is my name,' said I, in a quivering voice. 'I dropped you a note yesterday, informing you that my father and I had returned to the city.'
"He looked at me a moment with a calm, severe, scrutinizing gaze, and then said—
"'Yes, I received your note, and have this moment seen Mr. ——, who called upon you. And he corroborates the instant suspicion I had that your story could not be correct. He tells me that the man whom you call your father resembles Moses a great deal more than he does the late Mr. Ballantine. So, you see, madam, that your story won't go for anything here.'
"There was something cold and sneering in the tone, manner, and expression of Mr. Paralette that completely broke me down. I saw, in an instant, that my case was hopeless, at least for the time. I was a lone, weak woman, and during an absence of eight years from my native city, I had grown up from a slender girl into a tall woman, and had, from suffering and privation, been greatly changed, and my countenance marred even since I had attained the age of womanhood. Under these circumstances, with my father changed so that no one could recognize him, I felt that to make my strange story believed would be impossible. From the presence of Mr. Paralette I retired, and went back to the hotel, feeling as if my heart would break. Oh, it was dreadful to be thus repulsed, and at home, too! I tried only twice more to make my story believed; failing in these efforts, I turned all my thoughts toward the restoration of my father to mental health, believing that, when this was done, he, as a man, could reassume his own place and his true position. I had over six thousand dollars of the money I had taken from my father's pocket-book, and which I had always kept so completely concealed about my person, that no one had the least suspicion of it. Five thousand of this I deposited on interest, and with the residue took a small house in the suburbs of the city, which I furnished plainly, and removed into it with my father. I then employed two of the most skilful physicians in the city, and placed him in their hands, studiously concealing from them our real names and history. For eighteen months he was under medical treatment, and forat least six months of that time in a private insane hospital. But all to no effect. Severe or lenient treatment all ended in the same result. He continued a simple, harmless old man, fond of me as a child is of his mother, and looking up to and confiding in me for everything.
"At the end of the period I have indicated, I found my means had become reduced to about three thousand dollars. This awoke in my bosom a new cause of anxiety. If my father should not recover his reason in two or three years, I would have nothing upon which to support him, and be compelled to see him taken to some public institution for the insane, there to be treated without that tenderness and regard which a daughter can exercise toward her parent. This fear haunted me terribly.
"It was near the end of the period I have named, that I met with an account of the Massachusetts Insane Hospital, situated in Charlestown in this State. I was pleased with the manner in which patients were represented to be treated, and found that, by investing in Boston the balance of my little property, the income would be sufficient to pay for my father's maintenance there. As for myself, I had no fear but that with my needle, or in some other way, I could easily earn enough to supply my own limited wants. A long conference with one of the physicians who had attended my father raised my hopes greatly as to the benefits which might result from his being placed in an institution so well conducted.
"As soon as this idea had become fully formed in my mind, I sold off all our little stock of furniture, and with the meagre supply of clothing to which I had limited myself, ventured once more to try the perils of the sea. After a quick passage, we arrived in Boston. My father I at once had placed in the asylum, after having invested nearly every dollar I had in bank stock, the dividends from which were guaranteed to the institution for his support, so long as he remained one of its inmates. This was early in the last fall. I had then but a few dollars left, and no income. I was in a strange city, dependent entirely upon my own resources. And what were they? 'What am I to do? Where am I to go for employment?' were questions I found hard indeed to answer. Twenty dollars were all I possessed in the world, and this sum, at a hotel, would not last me, I knew, over two or three weeks. I therefore sought out a private boarding-house, where, under an assumed name, I got a room and my board for two dollars a week. The woman who kept the boarding-house, and to whom I communicated my wish to get sewing, gave me half a dozen plain shirts to make for her husband, for which I received fifty cents each. This was all the work I obtained during the first two weeks I was in the house, and it yielded me only three dollars, when my boarding cost me four. I felt a good deal discouraged after that. I knew no one to whom I could go for work—and the woman with whom I boarded could not recommend me to any place, except to the clothing-stores: but they, she said, paid so badly that she would not advise me to go there, for I could not earn much over half what it would cost me for my board. Still, she added, 'half a loaf is better than no bread.' I felt that there was truth in this last remark, and, therefore, after getting the direction of a clothing-store, I went there and got a few pairs of coarse trowsers. This kind of work was new to me. In my ignorance, I made some portion of them wrong, for which I received abuse from the owner of the shop, and no money. He was not going, he said, to pay for having his work spoiled.
"Dreadfully disheartened, I returned to my lodgings, and set myself to ponder over some other means of support. I had been, while at school, one of the best French and Spanish scholars in the seminary. I had also given great attention to music, and could have taught it as skilfully as our musical professor. But five years had passed since I touched the keys of a piano or harp, and I had not, during that time, spoken a dozen words in any language except my native tongue. And, even if I had retained all my former skill and proficiency, my appearance was not such as to guarantee me, as a perfect stranger, any favorable reception either from private families or schools. So anxious had I been to make the remnant of my father's property, which a kind Providence had spared to us, meet our extreme need, that I denied myself everything that I could possibly do without. Having no occasion to go into society, for no one would recognize me as Eugenia Ballantine, I had paid little regard to my external appearance, so far as elegant and fashionable apparel was concerned. I bought sparingly, and chose only plain and cheap articles. My clothes were, therefore, not of a kind, as you may yourself see, to give me, so far as they were concerned, a passport to consideration.
"As two dollars a week would, I knew, in a very short time, exhaust my little stock of money, I determined to try and rent a room somewhere, at the lowest possible rate, and buy my own food. I eat but a little, and felt sure that, by making this arrangement, I could subsist onone dollar a week instead of two, and this much it seemed as if I must be able to earn at something or other. On the day after I formed this resolution I met, in my walks about the city for the purpose, with the room where you found me, for which I paid seventy-five cents a week. There I removed, and managed to live on about one dollar and a quarter a week, which sum, or, at the worst, seventy-five cents or a dollar a week, I have since earned at making fine shirts for Mr. Berlaps at twenty-five cents each. I could have done better than that, but every day I visit my father, and this occupies from two to three hours."
"And how is your father?" asked Mrs. Gaston, wiping her tearful eyes, as Eugenia paused on ending her narrative.
"He seems calmer, and much more serious and apparently thoughtful since he has been in this institution," Eugenia replied, with something of cheerfulness in her tone. "He does not greet my coming, as he did at first, with childish pleasure, but looks at me gravely, yet with tenderness, when I enter; and, when I go away, he always asks if I will 'come again to-morrow.' He did not do this at first."
"But have you not written to Mr. Perkins since your return?" asked Mrs. Gaston.
Eugenia became instantly pale and agitated. But, recovering herself with an effort, she simply replied—
"How could I? To him I had, years before, been lost in the sea. I could not exist in his mind, except as one in the world of spirits. And how did I, when I came back, or how do I know now, that he has not found another to fill that place in his heart which I once occupied? On this subject I dared make no inquiry. And, even if this were not the case, I am not as I was. I had fortune and social standing when he wooed and won me. Now I am in comparative indigence, and branded as an impostor in my native city. If none recognized and received us in our own home, how could I expect him to do so? And to have been spurned as a mere pretender by him would have broken my heart at once."
Eugenia was greatly moved by this allusion to her former lover and affianced husband. The subject was one upon which she had never allowed herself to think, except compulsorily, and but for a few moments at a time. She could not bear it. After a silence of some moments, Mrs. Gaston said—
"I have not met with or heard of Mr. Perkins for some years. He remained in Troy about six months after you went away, and, during that period, I saw him very frequently. Your loss seemed, for a time, as if it would destroy his reason. I never saw any one suffer such keen mental distress as he did. The fearful uncertainty that hung around your fate racked his mind with the intensest anguish. At the end of the time I have mentioned, he went to New York, and, I was told, left that city a year afterwards; but, whether it is so or not, I never learned. Indeed, I am entirely ignorant as to whether he is now alive or dead. For years I have neither heard of him nor seen him."
Eugenia wept bitterly when Mrs. Gaston ceased speaking. She did not reply, but sat for a long time with her hand partly concealing her face, her whole body trembling nervously, and the tears falling fast from her eyes. From this excitement and agitation, consequent upon a reference to the past, she gradually recovered, and then Mrs. Gaston related, in turn, her trials and afflictions since their separation so many years before. These we will not now record for the reader, but hurry on to the conclusion of our narrative.
By a union of their efforts, Mrs. Gaston and Eugenia were enabled, though to do so required them to toil with unremitting diligence, to secure more comforts—to say nothing of the mutual strength and consolation they received from each other—than either could have possibly obtained alone. The rent of a room, and the expense of an extra light, were saved, and this was important where every cent had to be laid out with the most thoughtful economy. Eugenia no longer went out, except to visit her father. Mrs. Gaston brought home as much work from the shop as both of them could do, and received the money for it when it was done, which all went into a common fund. Thus the time wore on, Eugenia feeling happier than she had felt for many weary years. Mrs. Gaston had been a mother to her while she lived in Troy, and Eugenia entertained for her a deep affection. Their changed lot, hard and painful though it was, drew them closer together, and united them in a bond of mutual tenderness.
New Year's day at last came, and the mother, who had looked forward so anxiously for its arrival, that she might see her boy once more, felt happier in the prospect of meeting him than she had been for a long time. Since his departure, she had not heard a single word from him, which caused her to feel painfully anxious. But this day was to put an end to her mind's prolonged and painful suspense in regard to him. From about nine o'clock in the morning, she began to look momently for his arrival. But the time slowly wore on, and yet he did not come. Ten, eleven,twelve, one o'clock came and went, and the boy was still absent from his mother, whose heart yearned to see his fair face, and to hear his voice, so pleasant to her ear, with unutterable longings. But still the hours went by—two, three, four, and then the dusky twilight began to fall, bringing with it the heart-aching assurance that her boy would not come home. The tears, which she had restrained all day, now flowed freely, and her over-excited feelings gave way to a gush of bitter grief. The next day came and went, and the next, and the next—but there was no word from Henry. And thus the days followed each other, until the severe month of January passed away. So anxious and excited did the poor mother now become, that she could remain passive no longer. She must see or hear from her child. Doctor R—— had obtained him his place, and to him she repaired.
"But haven't you seen your little boy since he went to Lexington?" the doctor asked, in some surprise.
"Indeed, I have not; and Mr. Sharp promised to bring him home on New Year's day," replied the mother.
"Mr. Sharp! Mr. Sharp!" ejaculated the doctor, thoughtfully. "Is that the name of the man who has your son?"
"Yes, sir. That is his name."
Doctor R—— arose and took two or three turns across the floor at this, and, then resuming his seat, said—
"You shall see your son to-morrow, Mrs. Gaston. I will myself go to Lexington and bring him home. I had no idea that the man had not kept his promise with you. And, as I got Henry the place, I must see that his master is as good as his word in regard to him."
With this assurance, Mrs. Gaston returned home, and with a lighter heart.
(To be concluded next month.)
PEARLSare a shelly secretion of a spherical shape formed in a species of oyster, or pearl mussel, and said to be produced by a malady in the animal, which requires nearly seven years for its full development, after which the oyster dies. Small pearls which have been immersed in acetous acids, and thus reduced to their membranous constituents, have the appearance of being formed of concentric coats of membrane and carbonate of lime, thus resembling in composition the mother-of-pearl with which oyster-shells are lined. The precise origin of pearls is unknown, but it appears probable that some minute substance, such as a grain of sand, may have found its way into the shell and produced irritation, and that the animal, unable to expel it, renders it less injurious by covering it with calcareous matter. It is sometimes affirmed that, to produce pearls, the oyster must have received some external injury; and this is corroborated by the fact that nearly all the shells in which pearls are found are outwardly contorted, and that a smooth regular shell is a pretty sure sign of the absence of the pearl. It was therefore suggested to the Swedish government, by the celebrated Linnæus, to pierce small holes in the shell of the freshly-caught pearl oyster, and then restore it to its original bed. The experiment was tried, but without success. A somewhat similar plan is said to be adopted by the Chinese, and with favorable results. These ingenious people thread upon fine silk small beads of mother-of-pearl, and fasten them within the shells of pearl oysters, when they rise to the surface of the water at the beginning of summer. The animals are then restored to their bed, where they soon cover the beads with calcareous matter, and thus convert them into pearls.
In whatever way produced, pearls of considerable size, on account of their beauty and rarity, have been valued at enormous prices in past ages, and are still among the choicest objects of the jeweller's art. Their delicate and silvery lustre has been as widely celebrated as the brilliancy of the diamond. The Hindoos poetically describe them as drops of dew falling into the shells when the fish rise to the surface of the sea in the month of May, and becoming, by some unexplained action of the sun's rays, transformed into pearls.
Pearl fisheries exist in Ceylon, on the Coromandel coast, and in the Persian Gulf, the last-named being the most productive. Fisheries of less importance also exist in Algiers, and in the Zooloo Islands. Two thousand years ago, the Romans found pearls in Britain, and within modern times the rivers of Scotland have afforded considerable quantities, though not of the best quality. Several rivers of Saxony, Silesia, Bavaria,and Bohemia afford pearls, and they are also found in two or three Russian provinces. There are also pearl fisheries in the western hemisphere. The coast of Columbia and the Bay of Panama have furnished considerable quantities, but they are not considered equal to the pearls of the East in shape or color. Detailed accounts of the pearl fishery of Ceylon have been given by the Count de Noé and others, who have had ample means of watching the operations of the pearl-divers during a residence in that island. It appears that the pearl oysters occur in banks at greater or less depth in the sea on the western side of the island of Ceylon, the average depth, however, being about twelve fathoms, and the distance from the shore about fifteen miles. The right to fish on these banks is sold by the government every season, and a single auction sale is generally made to one individual, who afterwards disposes of shares in the fishery to other parties. The biddings at the auction are regulated by the produce of some thousands of oysters taken from the beds at hazard. If the average quality of pearls contained in them be good, the competition is strong in proportion.
The pearl fishery commences in April, and lasts till towards the end of May. It attracts a concourse of visitors not only from the interior of the island, but from various parts of India, whose diversities of language, dress, and manners produce a striking effect. The sea-shore, at other times solitary, is, on the eve of the fishery, suddenly covered with innumerable huts, composed of a few poles stuck in the ground, interwoven with bamboo and covered with the leaves of the cocoa-nut palm. These temporary dwellings often shelter as many as 150,000 persons. The signal for commencing the fishery is given at daybreak by the firing of cannon, and at that moment the several boats cast anchor in the fishing-ground, for at midnight they had left the shore in an extensive fleet, so as to be on the spot at the desired moment. Each boat has its own proper bounds, beyond which it is not lawful to work, and government vessels are on the spot to see that no infringement of contract takes place. The boats each carry a captain, a pilot, and twenty men, of whom ten are experienced divers. Five divers descend at once, the other five taking the plunge when the first ascend. Thus a little time is allowed for regaining strength. In order to descend as rapidly as possible through the water, the diver places his feet on a large stone made fast to one end of a rope, the other end being secured to the boat. He also takes another rope, to the end of which is attached a net, or basket, to contain the oysters. The upper extremity of this second rope is held by two men in the boat. The diver is also provided with a strong knife for detaching the oysters, and as a means of defence against sharks, which are very numerous in those seas, but which do not often attack the divers, being perhaps scared by the noise of the assemblage, and the continual plunging of so great a number of persons. The diver no sooner reaches the ground than he gathers oysters with all possible speed into his basket, and then letting go the rope to which the stone is attached, he pulls that which is held by the sailors, and rapidly ascends to the surface. Some divers make very dexterous use of their feet, holding the net with one foot, clasping the stone with the other, and thus leaving one hand free to close the nostrils, while the other hand holds the rope in descending.
The time during which the divers can remain submerged is variously stated, and no doubt it differs greatly according to the constitution of the individual. Some observers declare that, in their experience, it never exceeded fifty seconds; but Captain Percival, in his work on Ceylon, gives two minutes as the usual time of remaining under water.[10]Serious effects are produced by this employment, and the divers may frequently be seen with blood issuing from their mouth and nostrils. Yet this does not hinder them from going down in their turn. They will make from forty to fifty plunges in one day, and bring up on each occasion about one hundred oysters. Their day closes before noon; for, as soon as the sea-breeze sets in, the signal is given for the return of the boats to the shore. Their owners, and a large assemblage of persons of all classes, are eagerly looking out for the arrival of the flotilla, and are soon busily employed in examining and stowing away the cargoes.
Each owner has a shallow pit fenced round and secured for his own use, in which his store of oysters is deposited, and left open to the air. This pit, orcouttó, as it is called, is in the midst of a group of huts belonging to the same owner, so that it is under guard of his party. Here the oysters are allowed to putrefy under a burning sun, and a stench arises from them which would seem enough to depopulate the shore of its thousands of inhabitants. Yet such is not the case. The health of the people does not appear to be materially affected, and the oysters are allowedto remain till dry, when they can be easily opened and the pearls extracted. To open them when fresh would require much greater force, and would be likely to injure the pearls. When the putrefaction is sufficiently advanced, the oysters are taken from thecouttó, and placed in troughs made of the trunks of trees. Sea-water is thrown over them: they are easily opened, and render their pearls to the washing and shaking of a number of men who stand all on one side of the trough, while inspectors at each end closely watch their proceedings, and other inspectors examine the shells which are thrown away, lest they should contain some of the precious substance. The workmen engaged in washing pearls dare not lift their hands to their mouths under penalty of a flogging, yet a man will sometimes contrive to swallow a pearl of high price. After all the pearls are washed out, the largest are carefully picked out from the sand at the bottom of the troughs and washed repeatedly in clean water: the next in size are spread out on white napkins to dry in the sun. The remainder are left to the care of women, who pick them up and dry them. Pearls are assorted by means of three sieves placed one above another, the meshes in which are smaller as the pearls descend. Thus the pearls which will not pass through the uppermost sieve are of the first class, and so on with the others. Another assortment is made as to color, regularity of form, &c., and here the tastes of different nations have to be consulted. The Europeans prefer pure white pearls, the Indians yellow pearls, and the natives of Ceylon those which are tinged with rose-color.
Besides the number of persons who arrive in Ceylon in the fishing season for the purpose of speculating in pearls, there are also numerous Indian artisans who are very expert in piercing and drilling pearls, and who practise their trade on the spot on economical terms. A writer thus describes their operations: "A machine made of wood, and of a shape resembling an obtuse inverted cone, about six inches in length and four in breadth, is supported upon three feet, each twelve inches long. In the upper flat surface of this machine holes or pits are formed to receive the larger pearls, the smaller ones being beat in with a little wooden hammer. The drilling instruments are spindles of various sizes, according to that of the pearls; they are turned round in a wooden head by means of a bow handle, to which they are attached. The pearls being placed in the pits which we have already mentioned, and the point of the spindle adjusted to them, the workman presses on the wooden head of the machine with his left hand, while his right is employed in turning round the bow handle. During the process of drilling, he occasionally moistens the pearl by dipping the little finger of his right hand in a cocoa-nut filled with water, which is placed by him for that purpose; this he does with a dexterity and quickness which scarcely impede the operation, and can only be acquired by much practice. They have also a variety of other instruments both for cutting and drilling the pearls. To clean, round, and polish them to that state in which we see them, a powder, made of the pearls themselves, is employed. These different operations in preparing the pearls occupy a great number of the black men in various parts of the island. In the black town, or pettah of Columbo, in particular, many of them may every day be seen at this work, which is well worth the attention of any European who is not already acquainted with it."
MOTHER-OF-PEARL, or NACRE, is the hard, silvery, internal layer of several kinds of shells, especially oysters, the large varieties of which in the Indian seas secrete this coat of sufficient thickness to render the shell an object of manufacture. The genus of shell-fish,Pentadinæ, furnishes the finest pearls as well as mother-of-pearl: it is found round the coasts of Ceylon, near Ormus in the Persian Gulf, at Cape Comorin, and in some of the Australian seas. The dealers in pearl-shells consider the Chinese from Manilla to be the best: they are fine, large, and very brilliant, with yellow edges. Fine large shells of a dead white are supplied by Singapore. Common varieties come from Bombay and Valparaiso, from the latter place with jet black edges. South Sea pearl-shells are common, with white edges. The beautiful dark-green pearl-shells calledear-shellsorsea-earsare more concave than the others, and have small holes round the margin: they are the coverings of theHaliotis, which occurs in the Californian, South African, and East Indian seas.
In the Indian collection of the Great Exhibition in London, specimens of the finest pearl-shells were shown, known in commerce asflat-shells,ear-shells,green snail-shells,buffalo-shells,Bombay shells. It is stated that the shores of the Sooloo Islands afford the finest shells.
The beautiful tints of mother-of-pearl depend upon its structure; the surface being covered with a multitude of minute grooves, which decompose the reflected light. Sir David Brewster, who was the first to explain these chromatic effects, discovered, on examining the surface of mother-of-pearl with a microscope, "a groovedstructure, like the delicate texture of the skin at the top of an infant's finger, or like the section of the annual growths of wood as seen upon a dressed plank of fir. These may sometimes be seen by the naked eye; but they are often so minute that 3,000 of them are contained in an inch." It is remarkable that these iridescent hues can be communicated to other surfaces as a seal imparts its impress to wax. The colors may be best seen by taking an impression of the mother-of-pearl in black wax; but "a solution of gum-arabic or of isinglass (white glue), when allowed to indurate upon a surface of mother-of-pearl, takes a most perfect impression from it, and exhibits all the communicable colors in the finest manner, when seen either by reflection or transmission. By placing the isinglass between two finely-polished surfaces of good specimens of mother-of-pearl, we obtain a film of artificial mother-of-pearl, which, when seen by single lights, such as that of a candle, or by an aperture in the window, will shine with the brightest hues."
It is in consequence of this lamellar structure that pearl-shells admit of being split into laminæ for the handles of knives, for counters, and for inlaying. Splitting, however, is liable to spoil the shell, and is therefore avoided as much as possible. The different parts of the shell are selected as near as possible to suit the required purposes, and the excess of thickness is got rid of at the grindstone. In preparing the rough pearl-shell, the square and angular pieces are cut out with the ordinary brass-back saw, and the circular pieces, such as those for buttons, with the annular or crown-saw, fixed upon a lathe-mandrel. The pieces are next ground flat upon a wet grindstone, the edge of which is turned with a number of grooves, the ridges of which are less liable to be clogged than the entire surface, and hence grind more quickly. If the stone be wetted with soap and water, it is less liable to be clogged. The pieces are finished on the flat side of the stone, and are then ready for inlaying, engraving, polishing, &c. Cylindrical pieces are cut out of the thick part of the shell, near the hinge, and are rounded on the grindstone preparatory to being turned in the lathe. Counters, silk-winders, &c., are smoothed with Trent sand or pumice-stone and water on a buff-wheel or hand-polisher, and are finished with rotten-stone moistened with sulphuric acid, which develops finely the striated structure of the shell. For inlaid works, the surface is made flat by filing and scraping; then pumice-stone is used, and after this putty-powder, both on buff-sticks with water; and the final polish is given with rotten-stone and sulphuric acid, unless tortoise-shell, or some other substance liable to be injuriously affected by the acid, be present in the inlay. In turned works, fine emery-paper, rotten-stone and acid or oil are used. The pearl handles for razors are slightly riveted together in pairs, thenscraped,sand-buffedon the wheel with Trent sand and water; thirdly,gloss-buffedon the wheel with rotten-stone and oil, or sometimes with dry chalk rubbed on the same wheel; and fourthly, they arehanded up, or polished with dry rotten-stone and the naked hand.
ARTIFICIALPEARLS.—The art of making artificial pearls has been brought to such perfection in Paris, that even jewellers and pawnbrokers have occasionally had a difficulty in deciding between the artificial and the real. The origin of this successful imitation is given as follows: A French bead-maker named Jaquin, observing that when the small fish calledablette, or bleak (Cyprinus alburnus), was washed, the water was filled with fine silver-colored particles, collected some of these for the purposes of his trade. He found that the soft shining powder thus obtained had, to a remarkable degree, the lustre of pearls; hence, he called it essence of pearl, oressence d'orient. He first made small beads of gypsum and covered them with this substance; they were greatly admired and eagerly sought after; but it was found that this pearly coat, when exposed to heat, separated itself from the bead, and attached itself to the skin of the wearer in a manner that was anything but pleasant. The ladies themselves, it is said, suggested to Jaquin the making of hollow glass beads, and covering the inside with essence of pearl. This he did, and established a manufacture, of which some idea may be gained by the following account. Slender tubes of glass are first prepared, calledgirasols, a term applied to opal, and sometimes to the stone called cat's-eye, and given to these tubes because the glass is of a peculiar bluish tint. From these the artist blows minute globules, to the extent of from two to six thousand per day, not caring to make them all perfectly regular or free from blemish, because the natural pearls are not so. The pearl essence is then mixed with a solution of isinglass, and is blown while hot into each bead by means of a fine glass pipe. The solution is spread equally over the whole internal surface, by shaking the pearls in a vessel placed over the table where the workman sits, and to which he gives motion by his foot. When the varnish is equally diffused and dry, the beads are filled with white wax; this gives them thenecessary weight and solidity, and renders them less fragile. They are then bored with a needle, and threaded on strings for sale. The holes in the finer sort are lined with thin paper, that the thread may not adhere to the wax.
To produce one pound of scales no fewer than 4,000 fishes are required; but this quantity of scales only yields four ounces of pearl essence. The fish are about four inches long; they are sold at a cheap rate in the markets after being deprived of their scales. The value of a pound of washed scales in the Chalonnais is from fifteen to twenty-five livres. The early manufacturers suffered great inconvenience from not knowing how to preserve the scales from putrefaction, and consequently being obliged to use the essence immediately it was obtained, lest it should acquire the intolerable odor of decayed fish. Attempts were made to preserve them in spirit of wine or brandy, but those liquors wholly destroyed their lustre. At length it was discovered that these fishy particles can be kept for a long time in solution of ammonia, and this enables the manufacturers of artificial pearls to carry on a considerable traffic with distant places where the fish is plentiful, the supply from the Seine, though abundant, being insufficient for the purposes of the trade of Paris. Down to a late period, the heirs of M. Jaquin continued to manufacture pearls to a considerable extent, in the Rue de Petit Lion, at Paris. An elaborate account of this art is given by De Beost, in a work entitled, "L'Art d'imiter les Perles fines," from which most English descriptions of this manufacture have been obtained.