CHAPTER V.BOANERGES AND THE YOUNG MATHEMATICIAN.

Famine is in thy cheeks,Need and oppression stareth in thy eyes,Upon thy back hangs ragged misery.Shakspeare.

Famine is in thy cheeks,

Need and oppression stareth in thy eyes,

Upon thy back hangs ragged misery.

Shakspeare.

There’s no moreMercy in him than there’s milk in the male tiger.Idem.

There’s no more

Mercy in him than there’s milk in the male tiger.

Idem.

The bowels of Boanerges Phospher, the Spiritual Professor, were possessed of such extraordinary capacity for yearning over the fallen and lost condition of his brothers of mankind, that, not content with saving them by wholesale, and nightly, in those marvellously spiritualized lectures, his indomitable energies took up the trade of “saving” men individually and by detail.

This, let it be understood, was done between times, by way of recreation, just to keep his hand in. Let us follow him on one of these errands of mercy.

In a poor garret of Ann Street, New York, might have been seen, about these days, a young man, seated in a rickety chair, beside a dirty pine table, which was plentifully strewn with manuscripts covered with many a tedious column of figures and mysterious-looking diagrams.

You saw at once, from the disproportionate size of the broad, white, bulging brow, which brooded heavily over large mournful eyes, and thin, emaciated features, that he was a mathematician; possessing one of those precocious and enormous developments of the organs of calculation, which are so apt, when not diverted by other occupations and excitements, to consume rapidly the feeble fuel of life in their consecrated fires.

A wretched cot-bed occupied one corner of the room, which was likewise strewn with papers and books on mathematical subjects, while on the mantel lay scattered little heaps of dried cheese and crusts, which seemed so hardened, that no tooth of predatory mouse had left its mark thereon.

The young man was dressed in entire conformity with the miserable appearance of the room. His thin and silky hair hung in lank, clammy locks about his shockingly pallid features, as he leaned forward on his elbow, his forehead resting heavily on his thin hand, as he pored over the papers before him.

“Ah me,” muttered he, “this horrid poverty!” and he threw down his pen and sank back with a faint, despairing movement.

“My brain is giddy with this dizzy round of figures, figures. My weary calculation is nearly done, but my over-tasked brain sickens. Ah, but for just one good meal, to strengthen me for a few hours, and I could finish it—finish my glorious work!”

At this moment a rapid step was heard ascending the creaking stairs; the door flew open rudely, and, without any announcement, the Spiritual Professor, with his hair all nice behind his ears, came bustling forward toward the table, beside the fainting young student. Rubbing his hands at the same time in prodigious glee of anticipation, he exclaimed—

“Ha! my son! my spiritual child! how is it with you? Have you finished? Is it done?”

The poor student shook his head slightly, and muttered feebly—

“No, no; I cannot finish it.”

The eager face of the Professor turned suddenly very blank and very white at the same time, as, straightening himself, he stammered out—

“Wh-what! c-cannot finish it! Youmustfinish it! youshallfinish it!” and then continuing with greater vehemence, without apparently noticing that the weary head of the poor being before him was slowly drooping yet lower—

“Here’s a pretty business, to be sure! This is the reward I am to get for all I have done for you—for all my efforts to advance you in the world—for all the heavy expenses I have incurred in bringing you on from Cincinnati, and supporting you here! The evil spirits must have re-entered the boy! Have I not striven for these six months faithfully, with all my spiritual strength, to drive them forth, that I mightsavehim? The boy must be born again—he must be regenerated once more.Cannotfinish it! He must be chastened, to rebuke this evil spirit in him; he must be reduced to bread and water. I must recall my liberal allowance for his food; he has been living too high. The evil demon has probably entered him through a meal of fat pork!” and the spiritually outraged Professor sniffed with an indignant and eager sniffle, that he might detect the presence of the forbidden food.

The poor youth, in the mean time, had been slowly sliding from his chair, and, as the Professor turned aside with the air of an injured cherub, the body lost its balance, and the fainting youth fell to the floor.

“Ha! what now?” shouted our cherub with the hair behind his ears, springing into the air with a nervous agility, as if he in reality wore wings. He placed himself on the opposite side of the room in a twinkling, and then turning his face, ghastly withfright, exclaimed, “I thought the house was coming down!” and seeing the prostrate body, he walked around it as cautiously as a cat crouches, and, with a stealthy inspection, peered into the half-open eyelids, at the upturned eyes, but without touching the body.

“Wh-why, the fellow’s gone and died! There goes my great speculation!” and springing back suddenly, he rushed towards the table, and seizing convulsively the papers, ran his eye eagerly over them, while his hands trembled violently; and his lips turned as ashy blue as those of the poor victim at his feet, while, with an expression of despair, too unutterable for words to paint, he groaned out in frantic exclamations—“No, no, no, it is not finished; nobody else can do it but him! I’m ruined! I’m ruined! Oh, my money’s gone—my money’s gone! To think that he should die, after all I’ve done for him—after all my liberality! O! O! O! booh! booh! hoo!”

At this melting crisis, a slight noise caused him to turn his head; the apparent corpse was drawing up one foot, and making some other feeble movements, which showed that life was not entirely extinct.

At this sight the eyes of Boanerges flew open as wide, in a stare of ecstacy, as they had before been stretched in horror, until their suffusion “with the briny,” as Mr. Richard Swiveller would say, had caused them to momentarily wink.

“Why, he ain’t dead yet! my speculation is safe. Some water! Where’s some water? Get some water!” and he ran peering and dodging around the room with an uncertain air, as if the new influx of joy had bewildered his seraphic mind. After some little delay he found the pitcher, which had been standing all the time in full view, within three feet of him; he wildly dashed more than half the contents into the face of the victim, who instantly drew a long sobbing breath, and in a moment or two opened his eyes.

This so increased the ecstacy of the Professor, that he now ventured to kneel beside him, and, in his eagerness, forgettingto use the tumbler that was standing near, he nearly crushed the poor student’s teeth down his throat, in his awkward endeavors to administer drink to him from the heavy pitcher—exclaiming, during the process, “Drink! drink! my son. Don’t die, for Heaven’s sake! Remember my liberality—my generous sacrifices to advance you in the world. Remember our almanac—your great work, that is to make your fortune. Remember how you have been saved!”

“Starved, you mean,” feebly whispered the young man, whom a few draughts of the precious fluid had rapidly revived.

“St-a-a-r-r-ved! does he say?” yelled Boanerges, shrinking back as if horrified, and nearly dropping the body he was supporting from his arms. Then, suddenly releasing one arm, he smoothed back his hair gently; that radiant, angelic expression of sweet humility, for which it was so famous among the female part of his select and nightly audiences, overcame his face as with a halo, and leaning down, so as to look into the eyes of his victim, he asked, in a liquid voice, “My son, have I—have I—thy spiritual father, starved thee?” and then tenderly he gazed into his eyes. With a look of assured self-satisfaction that those siren tones had done the business, he silently awaited the answer to the gentle and rebukeful question. But no answer came to the sweet, lingering look; the young man only closed his eyes heavily, and shuddered.

“My son, my son!” continued the Professor, in yet more grieved and meek, and dulcet tones. “My spiritual son, have I starved thee? have I not been generous to a fault, and even to wronging the beloved child of my own loins? This room, these writing materials, this tumbler, this pitcher, that delightful bed, are they not all my free-will gifts to thee for thy own advancement, to enable thee to glorify God in thy works? Have I not rather saved thee from starving? You had nothing when I took you up, to patronise your genius, and bring you before the world; and now you have plenty! See, see, your mantelis even now crowded with bread and cheese, that you are wasting here in the midst of such superlative abundance.”

The young man, at the mention of the bread and cheese, turned his head aside with an expression of bitter loathing and disgust.

“Pah!” he muttered; “the very name of it makes me sick; I have tasted nothing else for the last six months. That is what is killing me; my stomach can retain it no longer! Who can keep body and soul together on thirty cents a week?”

“Horror!” exclaimed the Professor, rolling up his eyes meekly. “To think of such frantic extravagance! And besides, my son, your spiritual strength should have sustained you—the success of your great work, the prospect of future glory! Amanstarve on bread and cheese! Why, who ever heard of such a thing? Why, when I was a boy of ten years of age, I started alone, on foot, to cross the Alleghanies, to make my way to the North to school. My father had moved West when I was very young. I started with only one loaf of white bread in my bundle, when the whole country was wild and full of bears and wolves. The wolves chased me, and I climbed a tree; they surrounded it, barking and gnashing their teeth, to get at me; there were five hundred wolves at least, but I in my faith kept my strength, and remained cool as Daniel in the lion’s den, until at last they kept me there so long, I fell asleep, when the limb broke, and I fell down into the midst of them; the wolves were so frightened, that they all took to their heels and ran away, leaving me safe.Thereis a specimen of the spiritual strength that faith gives, and should encourage you never to give up and faint by the way. Had you possessed more of such faith, my son, you would never have been stretched here, upon this floor, in such a condition, and talking about starving on bread and cheese. It is the soul, my son, the regenerate soul, that sustains the heroic man on earth, as I have so often endeavored to teach you.”

“Yes,” groaned the poor youth, with a gesture of impatience.“The body must live too, and life cannot be sustained so long upon unvaried food.”

“Listen, my son!” said the patient saint at his head—“listen, and you shall hear what I accomplished on that single loaf of bread. I travelled on with my little bundle on my shoulder, containing the home-spun suit I was to wear when I arrived at school, and my loaf of bread. I travelled on till my clothes were all worn out, and my shoes full of holes, and my feet were so sore and swollen that I was afraid to pull off my shoes, for fear I should not be able to get them on again. So I waded across all the brooks and mountain streams with my clothes on, until, at last, one afternoon, when high up in the mountains, my strength gave out, and I laid me down in the howling wilderness, thinking I must die. The weather was very cold, and my clothes, all wet from crossing the streams, were freezing, and the dreaded sleepiness was coming over me, when a good widow woman, who lived with her children on the mountains, and was out gathering wood, accidentally found me. She took me up in her arms, and carried me to her hut, and laid me on her bed, where I slept all night. In the morning, when I opened my eyes, I saw her breaking the hot Indian-corn bread, and giving it to her children. I told her if she would give me some of her corn bread, I would divide my loaf of white bread with her and her children. She eagerly accepted the offer, for such a luxury as white bread had been long unknown to them, and that was my first speculation! While they ravenously devoured my loaf, I feasted upon her rich hot bread. My soul overflowed with delight as I witnessed their intense enjoyment of the meal I had been thus instrumental in bringing them, and I felt as if the Lord had thus enabled me to fully repay them for their kindness. I rose to depart, and the good woman, filling my bundle with a large piece of her hot bread, sent me, with her blessing, on my way rejoicing. Thus, you see, my dear son, how, through the spiritual strength which faith imparts, and which you so much need,I was enabled to cross the Alleghany mountains alone, at ten years of age, with nothing but my loaf of white bread, and without so much as a bit of cheese, or a cent in my pocket, and attained to the great goal of my ambition, the school; and from whence, by the aid of selling an occasional button from my jacket, I have been able to rise to my present position as professor and patron of struggling genius.”[2]

[2]Incredible as it may seem, we pledge our personal veracity that this bald and silly narration, which appears to be merely a foolish burlesque, is abona fide,et literatim,et punctuatim, transcript, as close as it is possible for memory to furnish, of stories that were, at least as often as five days out of the seven, related at the dinner-table at which Boanerges presided, to long double lines of gaping women, who, obedient to the irresistible spell he bore, had followed up this maudlin Proteus of Professors, as disciples of water-cure, through his latest metamorphoses, into physician of such an establishment in Boston. It wasthushe exhorted them to faith, and encouraged his backsliders.

“Ah!” said the young man, “words, words! Give me to eat—I am starving!” and his head sank back once more.

The Professor again deluged him with water, and, profoundly surprised and alarmed that the honeyed eloquence of his sagacious narrative had proved unavailing in convincing his victim that he could and ought to live upon faith, came to the desperate resolution of being guilty of the extravagance, for once, of asmallbowl of soup to resuscitate his victim, and depositing his head upon some books, though the pillow was equally convenient, he hurried off to the nearest eating-house, with his hands upon his pockets, which were overflowing with gold, as he was then in the meridian height of his prosperity.

The sequel to this particular story is a short one. The young man revived with the change of a single nutritious meal, and with it returned the courage of even the trodden worm; for he now stoutly told the Spiritual Professor that, unless he furnished him with ample means to support life, he would not touch an another figure of the immense and complicated calculations on which he had been so long engaged.

The Professor, of course, resisted to the last, and quoted the correspondences upon him, with desperate fluency. But when the young man coolly seized the manuscript on the table before him, and held it over the flickering flame of the miserable dip candle, which had now been of necessity lighted, the Professor sprang forward to arrest his hand, shrieking—

“I will! I will! for God’s sake, stop!—how much do you want?”

“Five dollars a week!” was the cold response, as the flame caught the edges of the paper.

“I’ll give it! I’ll give it! What fearful extravagance! My God! put it out!”

“Pay me five dollars at once,” said the other.

“Here it is—here it is!” and he jerked, in his excitement, from his pocket, a dozen gold-pieces of that value, and dashed them upon the table.

“Take your five dollars! put it out!”

The young man quietly swept the pieces within his reach into a drawer, which he at the same moment opened; and, extinguishing the margin of the manuscript, which had burned slowly from its thickness, he replied deliberately to the Professor, who had shrieked out—

“Do you mean to rob me?”

“No, sir! but I mean to keep this money, and if you approach me, I shall destroy this manuscript if it cost me my life. You have starved and outraged me long enough; you expect to make a fortune off my labors, and kill me with famine just as my work is done. But with all my humility, abstraction and patience, this is too much! I am roused at last, in self-defence, and you shall find it so!”

The Professor sank into a chair as if fainting, and for some moments continued to mutter, with more than the magnanimity of a sick kitten—

“To think! Robbed! All my generosity! The ruffian! Here, to my very face! What have I gained by saving him?”

This last expression was gasped out, as if the vital breath of the speaker was passing in the final spasm.

The scene need not be prolonged. The valorous Professor crept away, cowed beneath the cold, firm, lustrous eye of the now aggressive victim, whose enthusiasm for science and earnest self-dedication, had heretofore kept him blinded to a full realisation of all the monstrous iniquity which had so long been practised upon his abstracted, meek, and uncomplaining nature. He now determined to take his life into his own hands, and saw clearly through all the shallow and ridiculous pretence of patronage and “saving,” by which his single-hearted fervor had been beguiled.

In a few days it was announced to the Professor, whose faith and spiritual strength—the same that had scared off the wolves when he fell among them—had in the interval been restored to their equilibrium, that the great work was now completed, and the announcement was accompanied by a proposition on the part of the young mathematician to sell out to him entire his copyright share in the whole enterprise, at a price so comparatively insignificant, when the Professor’s own florid anticipations of future results were considered, that he sprang at the offer eagerly, and thus possessed himself at once of the “golden goose.”

The young mathematician disappeared, and the Professor was left exulting in the sole possession of what seemed to him, in vision, the nearest representative of the gold of Ophir, not to speak of California.

The idea of the young mathematician was, in itself, a practical one, and seemed rationally conceived.

We have used the word almanac, by which it was designated, but in reality it very poorly conveys the subtle and singular combinations which were here brought to bear upon a circular,rotary surface, the aim of which was, to so far simplify the calculations of interest, wages, discounts, and a hundred other tedious and difficult problems occurring in complicated business affairs, that the merchant or banker had only to glance his eye down a line of figures, to ascertain in a moment results which would take him, by all the ordinary aids and processes, a long calculation to arrive at.

It was a brilliant conception, which must prove ultimately a most successful discovery of the young mathematician, and one which had cost him many years of careful analysis and profound observation. But as he handed over the perfected copyright to our astute Professor, who had just enough of button-trading cunning to perceive the immense practical results of the enterprise, without the slightest knowledge of the processes by which it had been perfected, there might have been noticed upon the face of his former victim, as he pocketed his paltry bonus, a slight sneer, which would have alarmed any one less gifted with occasional short-sightedness than our Professor has shown himself to be.

He made off with the documents in an ecstacy of triumph, and forthwith began making round purchases of paper, pasteboard, and other mechanical appliances necessary to his success, to the amount of thousands of his easily-got gains; and then as heavy sums were as rapidly expended upon the costly and difficult copper-plate engraving, which was to set forth in full the triumph, the undivided honors of which he now claimed, to the world.

There are few of the main printing-offices in the country that had not, or have not, that famous circular almanac hanging upon their walls. Unfortunately the Professor had been too eager to promulgate his triumph, and powerfully illustrated in this experiment the truth of the old aphorism, “The greater haste the less speed;” for it turned out, upon a close examination of the long and intricate series of calculations, by scientific men, that the fatal error of a single numeral ran throughout itscomplex demonstration, and rendered its whole results utterly futile, without the enormous expense of cancelling the costly copper-plate, and the tremendous edition which had been already issued. The incorrigible ignorance of the Spiritual Professor had rendered him incapable of detecting the error himself, and he had thereby swamped effectually not only his magnanimous speculation in this particular case, but thoroughly dissipated the abundant proceeds of his more successful speculation in the spiritual correspondences.

This little accident threw him upon his shifts, but we shall surely find him upon his feet again hereafter.

Had not his starving victim subtly worked out a sublime revenge, in spite of the fact that he had been over and over again so thoroughlysaved? So much for Boanerges and the young mathematician.

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