Victorian Values Part 2

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SO WHAT WAS IT LIKE TO GO SHOPPING IN VICTORIAN TIMES, CIRCA 1897?

IN THE WORDS OF HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD'S "STEPPING STONES TO HAPPINESS," PUBLISHED BY THE CHRISTIAN HERALD

     I sometimes think that today's younger generation, believes they invented shopping; and that in the 1800's, and that the only stores on the main streets of our villages, towns and cities were of the "general" variety, like what appeared in those old time Hollywood Westerns like "Shane," and on television's "Little House on the Prairie," and of course, we must not forget about "Bonanza." I'm pretty sure the baby boomers know about this stuff, but it's the young folks out there, who may have the opinion real history began when they were born.  Thus, we preach to the converted. It's still neat to think about the differences in shopping through the centuries, especially about the Victorian era, which has impacted on contemporary times and values, even though we don't often give it credit. Some of us, still have those Victorian values, at heart, and make no apology for being a little musty around the edges. Not that I'm Victorian but I'm certainly not Edwardian, as my name might suggest.

     Admit it. You've been wondering for ages and ages, what it must have been like shopping in the late 1800's? I bet you have wild expectations about what pleasure-shopping would have been like, and what would have been trending, say, in the latter years of Queen Victoria's reign? Okay, so you haven't experienced any sleepless nights worrying about it, and maybe you haven't done any research to answer the question; "what it would have been like to shop with the stoic Victorians?" We found a few insights about this, in Mrs. Spoffard's self help book, published several years before Queen Victoria's passing, on the cusp of the new century. We thought you might like to read about shopping jags the old fashioned way, and what was most popular for the ladies back then. The men? They didn't shop as such. They placed orders with merchants, and then awaited for delivery. Sexist? You betcha!

     "And there is still another pleasure and advantage of life in the city, that affords a singular exhilaration and satisfaction - the - pleasure of going shopping. There is an excitement about this shopping that must be forever unknown, and unfelt, by the masculine shopper, we fancy," writes home and health advisor, Harriet Prescott Spofford, in her 1897 book, "Stepping Stones to Happiness."

     Obviously, men, at least in her opinion, during this late Victorian period, weren't as interested in shopping as ladies. Some things never change, at least when it comes to certain kinds of shopping excursions.

     "In point of fact, though, there is no masculine shopper. A man goes and orders what he wants, and there an end, but a woman flutters from shop to shop, and from street to street, day after day, and week after week, like a hen humming over sweets, and only retires from the work at last, when not only she herself, but all her friends as well, have no money left," writes Mrs. Spofford. "And when a throng it is, of which these shoppers make a part, the haughty urbans stepping from their satin-lined carriages; the satchel-bearing suburbans; the young country school mistress, who thinks the firm would possibly become embarrassed if she did not buy her new black silk there, and, the article once bought, feels a happy consciousness of benefits conferred, and a proud sense of having enlarged the trade, of the place in all the markets of the world; then there is the penniless companion of the shopper, who has no purse to open, and before whose indifferent eyes all these things - the people, the noise, the bustle, the confusion - pass like disordered phantasms; there is the woman who never lets her purchase out of her sight, after the money has passed, and laughs to scorn the parcel delivery, and the woman who wears a circular cloak, and is afraid to go near the counters for fear she shall be accused of stealing; there is the professional shopper who buys for others on commission, and who knows what there is in the place, better than the clerks themselves know; the young bride who never thinks of blushing, as she adds treasure after treasure to her trousseau; the young mother who is nothing but a blush, as she chooses her nainsocks and long lawns, and edgings, and insertings; there is the wretched gentleman who accompanies some shoppers as purse bearer, and in all the crowd of women never felt so exquisitely uncomfortable in his life; and there are the shoppers who have no idea of buying at all, but who have come only to see what it is that the rest of the world is buying.

     "And what beautiful things they are, that the world is buying. One would say ingenuity in design, and beauty of fabric, and prodigality of undreamed of colors, never reached before the point the touch today; for although stuffs have been made more barbarously rich, we doubt if they have ever been more artistically beautiful. The shopper whose check-book is not unlimited needs to pause bewildered among all the brocades and damasks, to beg for patterns, and then go home, and ponder, and balance, and decide in peace, where her fancy will not be disturbed by rival claims; where the jostling of the crowd will not have made her nervous and cross, and difficult to please, and where the elation of the recently given largess, for her shopping will not have so turned her head, that she is pleased too easily and buys too soon. And, after all, the whole business is much like a lottery. One starts out in the morning quite ignorant, whether one is to draw a prize ore a blank; whether the bargain will prove a bargain or otherwise; whether what looked precisely right in the shop will not look precisely wrong at home, away from its accessories, and face with the necessities of its future companion, pieces of dress; whether the silk will not wear shiny, the basket cloth wear satiny, the damasse rub up fluffy. One's ideas, too, are apt to build such charming pictures of unattainable shapes, and colors, that the result may be heart breaking. One marvels that out of all that wilderness of beauty, and lustre, in the shops to which the four quarters of the globe have contributed - muslins from farther India, shawls from Cathay, gold wrought wefts from Egypt, silks from France, furs from the North Pole - one has contrived to reach only such a beggarly and unbecoming end. And then to the disappointed young shopper, who has not been broken-in by a long series of disappointments, there seems to be little more to live for, until some rival shopper, when all is over, says how perfectly that plume falls along the brim; what a lovely contrast that color is with the skin, with what grace that stuff takes folds and falls; groans for such a knack of making herself picturesque, and begs for her company when next she rides abroad, and knows well that neither theatre, nor dance, nor drive, nor sail, has any such swift and sweet excitement as shopping has for the skillful shopper."

     From initial impressions, from the outside looking in, The Victorians were anti-fun, but it's not true. The period was one that inspired travel, adventure, nature study, art, literature, and "liaison with the curious and strange." And they liked to shop for interesting merchandise and finery. Just like today, some of us find ourselves tapped-out, and watch while others spend. Yup, something never change.

     Here is a little more of Mrs. Spofford from my blog archives:

WHAT WERE THE PIONEERS OF MUSKOKA READING AT HEARTHSIDE TO COMBAT THE RIGORS OF CABIN FEVER?

MORE THAN JUST THE BIBLE KEPT UP THE FAITH - BUT CHRISTIAN VALUES, AND GOOD LIVING, WOULD CEASE ALL TEMPTATIONS

     WHENEVER I HAVE ATTENDED AN AUCTION, OR ESTATE SALE, WHERE I KNOW PIONEER ERA MATERIALS MIGHT BE FOUND, I KEEP A SHARP EYE FOR THE BOOKS THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN READ BY THE CABIN STOVE….OR AT HEARTHSIDE. AND YES, IN CASE YOU'RE WONDERING, I'VE HAD MANY BOOKS THAT SMELLED LIKE WOODSMOKE, MANY DECADES AFTER INITIALLY BEING EXPOSED. I ONCE OWNED AN EARLY 1600'S GERMAN BIBLE, THAT HAD, AT SOME POINT IN ITS SHELF LIFE, BEEN TOSSED INTO A FIRE…OR AT LEAST, DAMAGED IN A HOUSEHOLD EVENT THAT DESTROYED ITS COVER. A BOOKBINDER I KNEW, IN BRACEBRIDGE, ORIGINALLY FROM IRELAND, TOLD ME THAT A GOAT SKIN COVER HAD BEEN FASHIONED INSTEAD, SOMETIME IN THE 1700'S, TO REPLACE THE DAMAGED ORIGINAL, AND IT HAD BEEN HER JOB FOR A CLIENT, TO SECURE SOME PARTS THAT WERE SEPARATING FROM THE SPINE. THE PERSON NEVER CAME BACK FOR THE BOOK, NOT BEING ABLE TO AFFORD THE HUNDRED DOLLARS IT HAD COST FOR REPAIRS, SO IT WAS OFFERED TO ME, IF I WOULD PAY THE OUTSTANDING BILL. I DID VERY MUCH WANT THAT BOOK, AND I OWNED IT FOR ABOUT FIVE YEARS BEFORE SELLING IT TO A GERMAN BIBLE COLLECTOR FOR A CONSIDERABLE PROFIT. THERE WAS SOMETHING ABOUT THAT BOOK, I CAN'T EXPLAIN, EXCEPT TO SAY I ENJOYED ITS HISTORY…..THINKING ABOUT ALL THE CHRONICLE OF CIVILIZATION THAT HAD OCCURRED AFTER ITS PRINTING….SUCH AS IN CANADA, THE COMING AND LEAVING OF THE JESUITS, UNDER FIRE, AT STE, MARIE AMONGST THE HURONS, IN MIDLAND, LATE IN THE 1600'S. IMAGINE THAT. THIS BOOK WAS PRINTED BEFORE THE ATTACK ON HURONIA BY THE IROQUOIS.

    I HAVE A RAVENOUS APPETITE FOR THE BOOKS OWNED AND PRESUMABLY READ BY OUR REGIONAL PIONEERS. OUR FIRST FARMERS. IT'S IMPORTANT TO ME AS AN HISTORIAN, BECAUSE IT HELPS ME UNDERSTAND THEIR VALUES AND MORAL STANDARDS, IN THESE VICTORIAN TIMES. MANY HOMESTEADS WERE VOID OF BOOKS, EVEN BIBLES. OTHER FARMSTEADS HAD CONSIDERABLE LITERATURE. ONE IN PARTICULAR, THE EWING FARM, BETWEEN BRACEBRIDGE AND MILFORD BAY, HAD AN OUTSTANDING LIBRARY OF JUST ABOUT EVERYTHING, AND THE ONLY THING THAT STOPPED ME BUYING THE WHOLE LOT, WAS THAT I WAS DAMN-NEAR BROKE AT THE TIME. I DID MANAGE TO GET AN 1850'S SECOND EDITION OF "THE FARMER'S EVERY DAY BOOK," WHICH CONTAINED A WIDE RANGING TEXT, ON EVERYTHING FROM THE DISEASES OF ANIMALS, TO THE SOCIAL AND MORAL EVILS OF DEMON RUM. IT HANDLED MATTERS OF ANIMAL HUSBANDRY, INTIMATE RELATIONS BETWEEN CONSENTING ADULTS, AND HOME COOKING; RELIGIOUS OBEDIENCE, TO HOW TO GET A STAIN OUT OF A SATIN DRESS, OR LACE TRIM. BUT IT WAS THE KIND OF BOOK THAT YOU COULD WIND UP CONSULTING EVERY DAY, TO HELP DEAL WITH A FARMSTEAD CONUNDRUM, OF WHICH I'M SURE THERE WERE MANY. AND IF YOU FELT YOUR FAITH SLIPPING, IT WAS ALSO A HANDY CHRISTIAN GUIDEBOOK BACK TO AN APPRECIATION OF DIVINE INSPIRATION.

     I WAS LUCKY TODAY TO UNCOVER, FROM MY ARCHIVES, AN 1897 COPY OF ANOTHER OF THESE (LATE) VICTORIAN ERA SELF-HELP, MORAL GUIDANCE TEXT BOOKS, ENTITLED "STEPPING STONES TO HAPPINESS," ALSO COVERING A WIDE ARRAY OF HOME SITUATIONS, INCLUDING THE DILEMMA OF HAVING THE MISFORTUNE OF A WIFE AND MOTHER, WHO WAS VOID OF COOKERY SKILLS. THUS, THERE IS SOME SELF HELP CONTAINED WITHIN. THERE IS THE CHRISTIAN OVERTONE, AND MORAL GUIDANCE INCLUDED, ALONGSIDE TIPS FOR ENHANCING HOME ECONOMY, COOKING WITH LIMITED RESOURCES, AND STAVING OFF ILLNESSES SUCH AS SCARLET FEVER. BUT IT WAS ALSO A SOURCE OF INSPIRATION, TO MANY OF ITS HOMESTEAD READERS, WHO ADMITTEDLY, STARING OUT THE CABIN WINDOW, ONTO THE DARKER DAYS OF AUTUMN, WOULD GET A LITTLE ANXIOUS ABOUT THE IMMINENT APPROACH OF WINTER. THESE WERE CORNY BOOKS FOR THE MOST PART, YET THEY PLAYED A ROLE IN KEEPING THE HOMEMAKERS UP TO SPEED, SO TO SPEAK, ON THE LATEST ADVISORIES FOR HAVING A HAPPY AND HEALTHY FAMILY UNDER THAT FARMSTEAD ROOF.

     I THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE INTERESTED TO READ SOME OF THE EDITORIAL MATERIAL, OFFERED FOR THE MUSKOKA SETTLER, AT AROUND THE TIME, 1897 OR SLIGHTLY LATER. THE BOOKS WERE WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED FOR PROFIT, SO A LOT OF FAMILIES WEREN'T ABLE TO JUSTIFY ITS PURCHASE. THIS TEXT DID COME FROM A PIONEER HOMESTEAD IN CENTRAL MUSKOKA, AND IN FACT, IT IS NOW MY SECOND COPY. I USE THESE BOOKS A LOT, IN RESEARCH, BECAUSE THEY WERE VERY INFLUENTIAL WHEN IT CAME TO HOUSE-KEEPING….AND BOTH MY BOOKS HAVE BEEN WELL USED AND HOPEFULLY ENJOYED. THE IDEA WAS TO SPREAD CHRISTIAN VALUES INTO THE PIONEER CABINS OF THE HINTERLAND ALL OVER NORTH AMERICA. THESE COPIES ARE FROM OUR REGION OF ONTARIO, AND WERE ACTUALLY KEPT VERY WELL, CONSIDERING THE TEMPERATURE FLUCTUATIONS AND DAMPNESS, THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN EXPOSED, OVER THE CENTURIES. FORMERLY, MY "FARMER'S EVERY DAY BOOK," CRUMBLED IN MY HANDS, BECAUSE IT WAS KEPT IN MUCH POORER CONDITIONS, THAN THESE NOW. I HATED TO LOSE THAT BOOK WHEN IT LITERALLY BECAME DUST IN THE WIND.

     HERE ARE SOME EDITORIAL INSIGHTS ABOUT THE AUTUMN SEASON, HEADED SIMPLY, "LIGHT-HEARTED OCTOBER." "AND WHILE THE FARM FAMILY READS ON, THEY MIGHT ALSO FEEL THAT THEY ARE BREATHING-IN AN EXCITING NEW LIFE; ONE WITH ASSURANCES, THAT ALL IS RIGHT IN THE HOME AND GARDEN; ENJOYING HEARTFULLY, THE INVIGORATION OF EARLY AUTUMN WITH A CLEAR CONSCIENCE. "IT SEEMS STRANGE THAT WE ASSOCIATE WITH THIS SEASON THE IDEA OF CHEERFULNESS AND MIRTH AND LIGHT-HEARTED LABOR."

     "ONE MIGHT SUPPOSE THAT EXACTLY THE OPPOSITE EFFECT WOULD BE PRODUCED UPON US BY ALL THE THREATENING TOKENS. THE DREARY TIME OF SHORT DARK DAYS, GRAY WEATHER, AND STORMS APPROACHING; THE IMPRISONMENT OF THE SNOW, THE BLEAK WINTER COLD. THE FLOWERS ARE GONE, THE LEAVES ARE GOING; FROST IS ALREADY UPON US; THE SUMMER'S SAUNTERING IS OVER, THE MOON-LIT STROLL, THE SUNSET SAIL; THE WINDS ARE KEEN AND NIPPING, THE GROUND IS DAMP AND SODDEN, AND ONE MIGHT SUPPOSE IT DEBATABLE WHETHER IT WERE BEST TO KEEP ALIVE OR NOT, INSTEAD OF REJOICING OURSELVES OVER THE CIRCUMSTANCES OF LIFE, UNDER SUCH CONDITIONS; IT WERE A BOON WORTH HAVING.

     "AND YET SUCH IS THE PERVERSITY OF HUMAN NATURE, THAT NOT WHEN SPRING RUSTLES ALL HER PROMISE OF PERFUME AND BLOSSOM, OF WARMTH AND EASE AND BEAUTY, WHEN THE SAP MOUNTS AND THE BLOOD BUBBLES AND THE YEAR OPENS WITH RENEWAL OF YOUTH'S FRESHNESS, ARE WE HALF SO CHEERFUL AS WHEN THIS RED AUTUMN HANGS OUT HIS BANNER. WE TAKE NO HEED THEN OF THE FUTURE, AND WE FORGET THAT ALL THE SPLENDOR OF HIS ARRAY CHANGES PRESENTLY, LIKE FAIRY MONEY, TO ASHES; GHOSTS WHOSE APPARITION DOES NOT GIVE US APPREHENSION. THE DAZZLING COLOR IS ENOUGH FOR US NOW; AND WITH THE GOLDEN SUNSHINE OF THE ELMS AND BEECHES, THE ROYAL PURPLE OF THE ASH, THE DULL CRIMSON AND BROWN OF THE OAK, THE SUPERB AND SCARLET FLAMING OF MAPLE AND TUPELO AND SUMAC, THE WHOLE ATMOSPHERE IS FULL OF SPLENDOR, AND WE CATCH THE SPIRIT OF JUBILEE - PERHAPS BATTALIONS AND TRIUMPHANT JUBILEE - AW WE MARCH OUT TO CONQUER THE COMING HOSTS OF WINTER." THIS, BY THE WAY, WAS WRITTEN BY HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD, AND PUBLISHED BY THE CHRISTIAN HERALD.

     HARRIET SPOFFORD WRITES OF "AUTUMN CHEER," AS FOLLOWS: "HOW MUCH OF THIS CHEERFULNESS IS DUE TO THE BRACING INFLUENCES OF THE AIR, WHICH IS APT TO WORK LIKE IRON IN THE VEINS, AND HOW MUCH TO THE EFFECT OF LIGHT AND COLOR UPON THE NERVES, IT IS NOT QUITE EASY TO DETERMINE. BY THE BRACING ATMOSPHERE OF THE SEA-SIDE OR OF THE MOUNTAINS, HOWEVER, WE ARE NOT ALWAYS MADE PERFECTLY CHEERFUL, BUT BY THAT OF THE SUNNY FALL DAYS, OTHER THINGS BEING EQUAL, THE HAPPY CHANGE SELDOM FAILS TO BE WROUGHT, AND WE MAY PROUDLY IMAGINE IN OURSELVES, AN UNGUESSED AND UNCONSCIOUS SUSCEPTIBILITY TO BEAUTY THAT IS ABLE TO WORK MIRACLES AND TURN EVEN DEAD LEAVES INTO THE BRILLIANT JEWELS OF THE TREES OF THE ARABIAN'S GARDEN.

     "THERE IS SUCH AN ILLUMINATION PRESENT EVERYWHERE, SUCH AN AIRY SPLENDOR LIFTING THE WOODS THEMSELVES, SUCH A FIELD OF THE CLOTH OF GOLD SET AMONG ALL DEAD FERNS AND BRAKES AND STUBBLE; THERE IS SUCH A LOFTY SOARING OF THE LIGHTED SKY ABOVE US AND AROUND, THAT THE WILL OF BEAUTY MUST BE WROUGH UNAWARE UPON THE VERIEST DOLT AND CLOWN AMONGST US. FAR OFF, TOO, ON THE HORIZON SUCFH HAZES BROOD, WITH THEIR SOFT DEEP VIOLET TINTS, NOW AND THEN LETTING A SHEET OF SUNLIGHT THROUGH TO SIFT UPON THE SCENE, LEADING INTO THE UNKNOWN, AND BORROWING FROM THE INFINITE, AND GIVING A CERTAIN SATISFACTION IN THE VIEW; FOR WHEREVER ANY SUGGESTION OF THE INFINITE IS GIVEN, COMFORT IS TO BE FOUND BY THOSE MORTALS TO WHOM THE IDEA OF MORTALITY IS HEAVY WITH GLOOM.

     "THUS IT IS NOT IMPOSSIBLE THAT OUT OF THE MERE AFFAIRS OF THE FANCY, THE HUES OF LEAF AND SKY AND LANDSCAPE, A POSITIVE HAPPINESS IS WROUGHT QUITE EQUAL TO THE HAPPINESS USUALLY GIVEN BY WHAT ARE RECKONED MORE SUBSTANTIAL THINGS. IT IS WELL KNOWN THAT AMONG THE MOST CHEERFUL SENSATIONS PRODUCED BY EXTERNALS ARE THOSE PRODUCED BY VARIOUS DEGREES OF RED, ESPECIALLY THE SHADES OF CHERRY, CARNATION AND DEEP CRIMSON. THE COQUETTE UNDERSTANDS THIS AS SHE KNOTS A RED RIBBON IN HER HAIR, AND THE BEAUTY, TOO, WHOSE DEMASK BLUSH IS HER CHIEF ORNAMENT; THE CRIMSON CARPETED ROOM IS THE ONE WHICH INSTANTLY REMINDS US OF WARMTH AND PLEASURE, AND IN WHICH ANY GREAT FALL OF SPIRITS FROM A HIGH TEMPERATURE SEEMS IMPOSSIBLE; IT IS THE GRAY SEA PICTURE INTO WHICH TURNER THRUSTS THE VERMILLION-COLORED BUOY, AND TRANSFORMS IT; IT IS THE RUSSET-COLORED AUTUMN THAT NATURE ENLIVENS WITH THE SCARLET LEAF.

     "AND YET THESE REDS ARE THE COLOR OF BLOOG, THE SIGNAL OF BATTLE, THE EXPONENT OF SLAUGHTER AND OF FIRE; AND WHY A COLOR THAT IS THE VERY FLAG OF WAR, AND THE REPRESENTATION OF CRUEL WOUNDS OF DEATH, SHOULD GIVE US PLEASANT AND COMFORTABLE SENSATIONS, IS ONLY EXPLICABLE BY THE SUPPOSITION THAT IN ITSELF THE ROSY RAY ACTS AS A STIMULANT UPON THE NERVES, EXCITING THESE COMFORTABLE SENSATIONS. THERE IS, INDEED, SOMETHING RATHER FLATTERING TO OUR VANITY IN THE BELIEF THAT WE ARE THUS STRONGLY AFFECTED BY SUCH AESTHETIC FORCES; BUT IF IT IS SUPPOSABLE THAT THE MOST OF US HAVE SOULS, THE IDEA IS NEITHER VERY EXTRAORDINARY NOR FANTASTIC."

    THE MOST ILLUMINATING PARAGRAPH FOR THIS WRITER, AUTUMN ENTHUSIAST, READS AS FOLLOWS: "BUT QUITE APART FROM THIS MERELY INTELLECTUAL OR NERVOUS ACTION UPON OUR BATTERIES IN THIS MATTER OF THE AUTUMN CHEER, IS THE MUCH MORE EARTHLY AND SOLID CONTENT OCCASIONED BY THE COMPLETION OF THE HARVEST AND HARVESTING, THE KNOWLEDGE THAT THE ROUND WORLD OVER THE LABORER IS REAPING HIS REWARD, THAT THE EARTH HAS AGAIN PAID HER DIVIDEND TO THE RACE, THAT NATURE HAS DONE HER DUTY AND KEPT HER PROMISE, THAT THE GREAT GUARDIAN STILL SEES THAT NEITHER SEED-TIME NOR HARVEST FAILS IN ITS SEASON. INDEED, IF THE BURSTING OF THE LEAF AND FLOWER MAKES ONE FEEL THAT GOD IS ALIVE, IN HIS WORLD, THEN THE RIPENING OF THE BROAD FIELDS FROM EAST TO WEST OF THE PLANET, FILLING OF THE VAST GRANARIES, THE GIFT OF THE YEAR'S FOOD TO MAN AND BEAST, GIVE ONE EVEN FIRMER ASSURANCE  THAT THE GRET PULSE IS BEATING THROUGH THE DAYS AND NIGHTS, AND THAT THE ETERNAL LIFE AND THE ETERNAL LOVE GO HAND IN HAND. WHAT WONDER, THEN, THAT, ALTHOUGH WE DO NOT PAUSE TO CONSIDER IT, THE CONSCIOUSNESS THAT WE ARE SO SURROUNDED BY THE DIVINE CARE THAT NO MALICE OF THE FIERCE ELEMENTS CAN REACH US SHOULD MAKE US LIGHT-HEARTED ENOUGH TO GO FORWARD GAYLY, TO MEET THE LEY DARTS THAT WINTER SLINGS, SECURE IN OUR POWER OF PROTECTION, AND DELIGHTING TO TURN OLD JANUARIES FROM AN ENEMY TO A FRIEND."

     "THUS WE SEE THAT, AFTER ALL, THERE IS NOTHING SO SINGULAR IN THIS AUTUMN CHEERFULNESS, AND THAT, INDEED, A CONTRARY SPIRIT WOULD BE A SINGULAR THING, WHILE FEW FOLLIES COULD BE GREATER, HAVING THIS CHARMING PRESENT, THAN TO IGNORE IT THROUGH FEAR OF TOMORROW, AND THAT IT IS WISDOM AS WELL AS PLEASURE TO ENJOY THIS BRIGHT DAY WHILE IT LASTS."

     I DON'T KNOW IF THE FARMSTEAD READER, MIGHT WELL HAVE CLOSED UP THE BOOK, SET IT ON HIS OR HER OWN LAP, AND UTTERED, "NONSENSE, SIMPLY NONSENSE," OR ON THE OTHER HAND, WHISPERED TO A LOVED-ONE,  "OUR FAILED HARVEST WAS GOD'S WILL." THE OPTIMISM FROM THESE PASSAGES, OOZES FROM THE PAGES RATHER GENEROUSLY, BUT I'M NOT AT ALL SURE HOW IT WAS ALL JUSTIFIED AND PLACED IN THE REALM OF HEAVEN AND EARTH, WHEN GOING INTO THE WINTER SEASON, A LESSER HARVEST AND SMALL INCOME MEANT, A NEAR STARVATION DIET UNTIL THE VERY NEXT HARVEST. I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW, IF EVER ONCE, THIS CHEERFUL, INSPIRING BOOK, WAS SLAMMED DOWN ON A TABLE, AND LEFT UNREAD FOR YEARS AFTER, BECAUSE OF ITS SUGGESTION THAT THERE ARE NO FAILED HARVESTS IN THE GOOD OLD WORLD. IT IS A WHIMSICAL BOOK, AT THE SAME TIME AS BEING PRACTICAL IN MANY WAYS, BUT ALWAYS A REMINDER OF CHRISTIAN VALUES AND A DIVINE SPARK ABOUT THE IMPORTANCE, OF HAVING UNFETTERED FAITH IN GOD. BOOKS LIKE THESE DID HAVE A PLACE IN THE FARMSTEADS OF MUSKOKA AS MUCH AS IN THE PARLORS AND KITCHENS OF FARMS AND HOMES IN NORTH DAKOTA, OR MINNESOTA, KENTUCKY OR ALBERTA. IT WAS THE SENSIBILITY OF THE PUBLISHERS AND THE AUTHOR, TO MAKE A BOOK APPEAL TO THE SENSES….AND ONE THAT COULD INFLUENCE A FAILING FARMER TO FEEL PROSPEROUS FOR A TIME…..DESPITE A POOR HARVEST. THERE WAS GOODNESS WITHIN THE MOST ADVERSE CIRCUMSTANCES, AND EVEN WINTER SHOULD HAVE BEEN CHERISHED FOR ITS POSITIVE INFLUENCES TOWARD HOME ECONOMICS AND FAMILY CLOSENESS. THE FACT THAT CABIN FEVER AND ENDLESS SNOW NEARLY DROVE THEM NUTS, IN THOSE COUNTRYSIDE SHELTERS, DOESN'T ENTER THE EQUATION IN THIS BOOK, AND OTHERS WRITTEN WITH THE SAME DETERMINATION, TO DRAW CHEERFULNESS FROM OTHERWISE BLEAK SITUATIONS.

A Happy Victorian Home Part 1

"STEPPING STONES TO HAPPINESS," by Harriet Prescott Spofford, Published by the Christian Herald - 1897

A HAPPY HOME, GOOD ECONOMY, RESOURCEFUL LIVING, SPIRITUALLY STRONG, HEALTHY MINDS, AND CHRISTIAN VALUES

     As a regional historian, I confess, I've spent more time mucking around the heritage of the Victorian era, than any other time in our regional, provincial and national history. Spending most of my years of research, examining Muskoka's pioneer period, up to and including the time of Queen Victoria's death, a whisker inside the new century, and being associated with two museums celebrating that same period, I have become a victim of my own passion. I should know more about other periods than I do, but I suppose there's still time to brush up on what I learned in school. I used to spend a lot of time on my own, wandering about the halls and rooms of Bracebridge's Woodchester Villa, built in Victorian times, and as a museum reflected many of those values that made the period of her monarchy so notable, followed and revered even in North America. There was always something mournful about the house, largely because of the way the family estate was decorated, such that it did look like a really large vintage funeral home. It wasn't the fault of the house, but the reality of the furnishings and adornments, even the way the children's bedroom was decorated, giving it a profound sense of melancholy, when in fact, it should have been much brighter and lighter in colors used, if only to show off the great antique dolls and toys, in what should have been a festive environment, even in respect to the Victorian ideals. It didn't have to be oppressive in appearance, but it's exactly what visitors used to complain about, when our tour guides asked for feedback about the museum in general. I understood what they meant, and we did try to lighten up the atmosphere, with additional lighting, but it still made people feel uneasy, as if there was a visible ghost sitting on the edge of the bed. Maybe there was! The point I'm trying to make, is that because I loved Woodchester, and my job as site manager, I just took it all in stride, and we tried to instill some merriment into the dark environs, by playing music through the day, and making sure the curtains were pulled back to allow in as much light as possible. Yet, it was the Victorian ambience, and we had to accept that, for historical accuracy, we couldn't jazz it up too much, or we would be misrepresenting the period the Bird family dwelled here, in the late 1800's. I learned a lot about the Victorian era, by being in the middle of it, on an almost daily basis. It influenced me, because I began buying Victorian chairs, cupboards, tables, dressers, and china, to bring a little bit of that history to our home. Suzanne, at first, and second, and third didn't like it, and told me so; but usually too late, because I had usually made the purchase in her absences.

     When Suzanne, my business partner, and I, first began working as a duo in the antique business, shortly after we were married, for some obvious reasons we became interested, by daily immersion, in the Victorian era. Part of it had to do with the fact, I was one of the directors, (and founders) of the Bracebridge Historical Society, and the heritage property under its administration, known then as "Woodchester Villa and Museum;" otherwise referred to as "The Bird House," named after the estate owner, Henry Bird, of Bird's Woollen Mill, on the Muskoka River in Bracebridge. The restored octagonal house, was brought back to its Victorian grandeur, and Suzanne and I had to spend so much time there, as site managers in the late 1980's, that it just kind of rubbed off on us. Even at auctions, and hunting around in antique shops, we found ourselves spending a lot of money and time researching, and owning relics representing the period of Queen Victoria's reign. There's still a lot of it out there, especially in the way of books on home economy and Christian values related to the upbringing of children, and abstinence in all its many forms.
     Today, at least in our opinion, having been garnered from a small, simply appointed shop in rural Ontario, the Victorian interests have declined seriously, in this new era of Baby Boomer influences in the antique and collectable market. And younger collectors seem to have very little interest in the Victorian period, and I can't say I blame them. Victorian furniture is often dark, big, and hard to fit into a condominium decorating scheme. Woodchester Villa was decorated with heavy, darkly stained furnishings, with dim illumination from elegant and extravagant light fixtures, that don't fit with a lot of contemporary, or even traditional-country interior designs. It doesn't mean to suggest we don't have Victorian-chasers moving about out there, just that they are fewer than in the past. Our customers want comfortable, attractive chairs, not ones that swallow you whole, or that are for parlor sitting only. Meaning, a short period. These chairs and settees look comfortable but most are the exact opposite. In the Victorian ideal, it was most appropriate that you felt a little uncomfortable, so that you wouldn't dwell in one place for too long, as to leave a imprint on the upholstery. Posture was a big deal then, and slumbering was to be done on the appropriate fainting couch or day-bed, not in a parlor chair in a cluttered but elegant room dedicated to social intercourse.
     Part of our research work, was to build a Victorian-period archives of research material, to better understand the time frame in Old England, and how it was interpreted in the colonies, up to and including the Queen's death early in the 1900's. We picked up Harriet Prescott Spofford's guidebook a few years ago, because it had some interesting kitchen related sections, including recipes and food handling advisories, which we found useful for the cookery archives we keep on hand, in the shop. It has an amazing array of helpful hints, from the final years of Queen Victoria's reign, having been published in this current edition, in the year 1897. We love scouring through these books, of which we have dozens, to harvest and re-publish some of the stories and helpful hints, from the beliefs and procedures known and practiced in this period of world history. Suzanne and I are suckers for those British produced documentary series, we sometimes view on TV Ontario, about "Christmas on a Victorian Farm," and ones that delve back even further in time. We originally thought we might, one day, try this throw-back thing ourselves, and to do this, we would require the help of authors such as "Harriet Spofford," and many others, who apparently knew how to navigate the prevailing hardships, of the Victorian economy, it's standards of living, and its neighborhood conundrums. Here are a few tips from the book, "Stepping Stones to Happiness," circa 1897, as published as a money-maker by the Christian Herald. It became a popular book, and was on the parlor table of many Victorian homes. This one was found in Orillia, Ontario.
     "In all Ages, the search for happiness has been the ultimate aim and desire of human effort - happiness here and hereafter. To those searchers, in every station in life, this book is dedicated, in the hope that it may be the means of guiding them, by pleasant paths, to the true Temple of Happiness, whence flow those delectable streams that refresh the hearts and rejoice the souls of all who enter the quest with a pure and resolute purpose," writes Mrs. Spofford. "Happiness is equally attainable to the poor and the rich, the youth and the veteran; and though multitudes have missed the path, stepping stones to happiness will lead them back to the way, by which they may surely find it. May they, in turn, extend loving help to other struggling wayfarers on the same journey."
     THE HEALTH OF THE HOME - "In obtaining this house which is to be so dear a shelter, be it on the asphalt or under the green bough, we have of course been particular about the site, for it may be 'writ large' but country is beautiful only when it is healthful,' and this sanitary condition is not to be taken for granted. Rosebushes in the door-yard in too frequent cases, supercede drain tiles under it, and the cupola too, rarely holds a ventilating shaft. In the city there are many houses that are built over old water courses and the would-be occupant is wise when he procures an old map of the city, which will let him known whether or not he is subject to danger," she writes. "It is the houses built over these old choked, or diverted water courses, whose occupants are the sufferers from malaria. In the country house, the chief risks to health, come from the pollution of the water supply, and of the air, by contact with waste matter. Owners of property are left to build or not to build their drains, and to bestow them perhaps as ignorance and indolence prompts, with no official supervision, and the consequence is that sometimes the lovelist spots are nests of low fever, diptheria and dysentery."
     THE PREVENTION THAT IS BETTER THAN CURE: "It is when pickling and preserving and house-cleaning, are over that the good house-wife (circa 1897), will turn her attention to these affairs, more vital by far, than anything that conduces merely to the pleasure of the eye, or of the table, and will look about her to see if her drains and sinks, her well and water pipes, are all in good order, and if her cellar is what a cellar should be, underlying as it does, the whole life of the house; and capable of sending, from its position in the sub-structure, bane or blessing, pure air or fetid, through every crevice of the dwelling. And there is no circumstance, by the way, that points more plainly to the wisdom of making every exertion to own one's home, of foregoing luxury and display, and all other gratifications that can be foregone with safety to soul and body, and laying away the wherewithal to purchase the place, with which one can do as one chooses, and, uprooting what is already wrong, plant wells, and dig drains where it is best; wisdom, since although the expenditure of the same money in choice of food, in fine raiment, or in costly equipage, may be even more delightful, there are no delights that are equal to those of health, and health can only be permanently secured when we are masters of our own situation. If the drain that receives the outflow of the house, can be connected with the refrigerator or too near the well, or if the conduits from the sink, apt to be made of wood, and frequently leaking on the way, are equally near, there is no human power that can bar out of the infectious fever from that house, except the removal of the drains and conduits to a safe distance; for, inappropriately to taste or scent, atom by atom, drop by drop, the well is poisoned; the milk in the refrigerator is poisoned, and life is surer and better underneath the dew of the upas-tree," records Mrs. Spofford, in her Victorian self-help journal.
     "But the position of these things, it is, of course, not always in the housewife's power to determine, and she must make the best of things as they are, and the best is to have them cleansed, yearly in the frosty weather, when the evil germs set free at their opening, perish of the withering chill before they can reach the stomachs and lungs of the inmates of the house. A thorough cleansing of these spots every fall, is not so expensive as a course of doctor's visits, and does not mount up like the druggist's bill; and if it is disagreeable, it is one of the prices we must pay for enjoyment of comfort and health, remembering that there is no such thing as immunity for the trouble of this oversight while in a state of civilization; that this oversight, in fact, is the groundwork of civilization, and that in matters of sickness and suffering, as in matters of politics, the old adage holds equally true, that eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.
     "But as it is ruinous to poison the water of the well, from which we drink, it is quite as ruinous to poison the air which we breathe, and that is the part in the house, which the neglected cellar has, it in its power, to play. Wherever vegetables have been stored, there some have run over the bins and been trodden on the floor, or have run into the dark corners of the bins and been overlooked, till they have decayed and transmitted their decay to others; there has been a 'sup of milk,' spilled on the floor, a bit of butter, a few drops of the drippings, some greasy brine from the barrel, some festering stuff from a broken bottle; there is a bit of mould here, a fungus there - in short, the witches' caldron is as ready as when the witches danced round it, on the heath of Forres, and threw into it their horrid ingredients. Let now a wet season arrive upon this condition of things, let a hot and humid August come, or let a January thaw of snow, and slush set in; let some water trickle into the cellar, or let the stones of the wall merely absorb the dampness and suffer it, to ooze through there, and the putrid air that steals up through the studding of the walls, behind every partition, up beside every chimney, and through every door and every crack, brings disease stalking-in with the death's head behind it, only to go out of the door feet foremost."
     In tomorrow's blog, we'll re-visit this curious Victorian home advisor, and the kindly Mrs. Spofford, to see what else we should brush-up on, that our great grandparents may have neglected to tell us about.

Washington Irvings Ghost Ship Part 3

WASHINGTON IRVING'S "STORM SHIP" CONTINUED

     "THERE IS ANOTHER STORY TOLD OF THIS FOUL-WEATHER URCHIN (STORM SHIP'S CAPTAIN), BY SKIPPER DANIEL OUSLESTICKER, OF FISHKILL, WHO WAS NEVER KNOWN TO TELL A LIE. HE DECLARED, THAT IN A SEVERE SQUALL, HE SAW HIM SEATED ASTRIDE HIS BOWSPRIT, RIDING THE SLOOP ASHORE, FULL BUTT AGAINST ANTHONY'S NOSE, AND THAT HE WAS EXORCISED BY DONNIE VAN GIESON, OF ESOPUS, WHO HAPPENED TO BE ON BOARD, AND WHO SUNG THE HYMN OF ST. NICHOLAS, WHEREUPON THE GOBLIN THREW HIMSELF UP IN THE AIR LIKE A BALL, AND WENT OFF IN A WHIRLWIND, CARRYING AWAY WITH HIM THE NIGHT-CAP OF THE DOMINIE'S WIFE, WHICH WAS DISCOVERED THE NEXT SUNDAY MORNING HANGING ON THE WEATHER-COCK OF ESOPUS' CHURCH STEEPLE, AT LEAST FORTY MILES OFF!  AFTER SEVERAL EVENTS OF THIS KIND HAD TAKEN PLACE, THE REGLAR SKIPPERS OF THE RIVER, FOR A LONG TIME, DID NOT VENTURE TO PASS THE DUNDERBERG, WITHOUT LOWERING THEIR PEAKS, OUT OF HOMAGE TO THE HEER OF THE MOUNTAIN, AND IT WAS OBSERVED THAT ALL SUCH AS PAID THIS TRIBUTE OF RESPECT, WERE SUFFERED TO PASS UNMOLESTED."

     WASHINGTON IRVING WROTE THIS SHORT STORY, IN THE WORDS OF HIS WELL TRAVELLED CHARACTER, GEOFFREY CRAYON, ESQ., IN THE SKETCH BOOK, OF 1822 VINTAGE.

    "SUCH,' SAID ANTHONY VANDER HAYDEN, 'ARE A FEW OF THE STORIES WRITTEN DOWN BY SELYNE THE POET, CONCERNING THIS STORM SHIP; WHICH HE AFFIRMS TO HAVE BROUGHT TO THIS COLONY OF MISCHIEVOUS IMPS INTO THE PROVINCE, FROM SOME OLD GHOST-RIDDEN COUNTRY OF EUROPE. I COULD GIVE YOUR A HOST OF MORE, IF NECESSARY; FOR ALL THE ACCIDENTS THAT SO OFTEN BEFALL THE RIVER CRAFT IN THE HIGHLANDS ARE SAID TO BE TRICKS PLAYED OFF BY THESE IMPS OF THE DUNDERBERG; BUT IS EE THAT YOU ARE NODDING, SO LET US TURN IN FOR THE NIGHT'."

     "THE MOON HAD JUST RAISED HER SILVER HORNS ABOVE THE ROUND BACK OF OLD BULL HILL, AND LIT UP THE GRAY ROCKS AND SHAGGED FORESTS, AND GLITTERING ON THE WAVING BOSOM OF THE RIVER. THE NIGHT DEW WAS FALLING, AND THE LATE GLOOMY MOUNTAINS BEGAN TO SOFTEN AND PUT ON A GRAY AERIAL TINT IN THE DEWY LIGHT. THE HUNTERS STIRRED THE FIRE, AND THREW ON FRESH FUEL TO QUALIFY THE DAMP OF THE NIGHT AIR. THEY THEN PREPARED A BED OF BRANCHES AND DRY LEAVES UNDER A LEDGE OF ROCKS FOR DOLPH; WHILE ANTHONY VANDER HAYDEN, WRAPPING HIMSELF UP IN A HUGE COAT MADE OF SKIN, STRETCHED HIMSELF BEFORE THE FIRE. IT WAS SOME TIME HOWEVER, BEFORE DOLPH COULD CLOSE HIS EYES. HE LAY CONTEMPLATING THE STRANGE SCENE BEFORE HIM; THE WILD WOODS AND ROCKS AROUND, THE FIRE THROWING FITFUL GLEAMS ON THE FACES OF THE SLEEPING SAVAGES; AND THE HEER ANTONY, TOO, WHO SO SINGULARLY, YET VAGUELY, REMINDED HIM OF THE NIGHTLY VISITANT TO THE HAUNTED HOUSE. NOW AND THEN HE HEARD THE CRY OF SOME ANIMAL FROM THE FOREST; OR THE HOOTING OF THE OWL; OR THE NOTES OF THE WHIP-POOR-WILL, WHICH SEEMED TO ABOUND AMONG THESE SOLITUDES; OR THE SPLASH OF A STURGEON, LEAPING OUT OF THE RIVER, AND FALLING BACK FULL LENGTH ON ITS PLACID SURFACE. HE CONTRASTED ALL THIS WITH HIS ACCUSTOMED NEST IN THE GARRET ROOM OF THE DOCTOR'S MANSION; WHERE THE ONLY SOUNDS HE HEARD AT NIGHT WERE THE CHURCH CLOCK TELLING THE HOUR; THE DROWSY VOICE OF THE WATCHMAN, DRAWLING OUT ALL WAS WELL; THE DEEP SNORING OF THE DOCTOR'S CLUBBED NOSE FROM BELOW THE STAIRS, OR THE CAUTIOUS LABOURS FO SOME CARPENTER RAT GNAWING IN THE WAINSCOT. HIS THOUGHTS THEN WANDERED TO HIS POOR OLD MOTHER; WHAT WOULD SHE THINK OF HIS MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE - WHAT ANXIETY AND DISTRESS WOULD SHE NOT SUFFER? THIS WAS THE THOUGH THAT WOULD CONTINUALLY INTRUDE ITSELF TO MAR HIS PRESENT ENJOYMENT. IT BROUGHT WITH IT A FEELING OF PAIN AND COMPUNCTION, AND HE FELL ASLEEP WITH THE TEARS YET STANDING IN HIS EYES," WROTE IRVING.

     "WERE THIS A MERE TALE OF FANCY, HERE WOULD BE A FINE OPPORTUNITY FOR WEAVING IN STRANGE ADVENTURES AMONG THESE WILD MOUNTAINS, AND ROVING HUNTERS; AND AFTER, INVOLVING MY HERO IN A VARIETY OF PERILS AND DIFFICULTIES, RESCUING HIM FROM THEM BY SOME MIRACULOUS CONTRIVANCE; BUT AS THIS IS ABSOLUTELY A TRUE STORY, I MUST CONTENT MYSELF WITH SIMPLE FACTS, AND KEEP TO PROBABILITIES."

     IRVING REMINDS, "AT AN EARLY HOUR OF THE NEXT DAY, THEREFORE, AFTER A HEARY MORNING'S MEAL, THE ENCAMPMENT BROKE UP, AND OUR ADVENTURESS EMBARKED IN THE PINNACE OF ANTHONY VANDER HEYDEN. THERE BEING NO WIND FOR THE SAIL, THE INDIANS ROWED HER GENTLY ALONG, KEEPING TIME TO A KIND OF CHANT OF ONE OF THE WHITE MEN. THE DAY WAS SERENE AND BEAUTIFUL; THE RIVER WITHOUT A WAVE; AND AS THE VESSEL CLEFT THE GLASSY WATER, IT LEFT A LONG, UNDULATING TRACK BEHIND. THE CROWS, WHO HAD SCENTED THE HUNTEERS' BANQUET, WERE ALREADY GATHERING AND HOVERING, IN THE AIR, JUST WHERE A COLUMN OF THIN BLUE SMOKE, RISING FROM AMONG THE TREES, SHOWED THE PLACE OF THEIR LAST NIGHT'S QUARTERS. AS THEY COASTED ALONG THE BASES OF THE MOUNTAINS, THE HEER ANTHONY POINTED OUT TO DOLPH A BALD EAGLE, THE SOVEREIGN OF THESE REGIONS, WHO SAT PERCHED ON A DRY TREE THAT PROJECTED OVER THE RIVER, AND, WITH EYE TURNED UPWARDS, SEEMED TO BE DRINKING IN THE SPLENDOUR OF THE MORNING SUN. THEIR APPROACH DISTURBED THE MONARCH'S MEDITATIONS. HE FIRST SPREAD ONE WING, AND THEN THE OTHER; BALANCED HIMSELF FOR A MOMENT; AND THEN, QUITTING HIS PERCH WITH DIGNIFIED COMPOSURE, WHEELED SLOWLY OVER THEIR HEADS. DOLPH SNATCHED UP A GUN, AND SENT A WHISTLING BALL AFTER HIM THAT CUT SOME OF HIS FEATHERS FROM HIS WING; THE REPORT OF THE GUN LEAPED SHARPLY FROM ROCK TO ROCK, AND AWAKENED A THOUSAND ECHOES; BUT THE MONARCH OF THE AIR SAILED CALMLY ON, ASCENDING HIGHER AND HIGHER, AND WHEELING WIDELY AS HE ASCENDED, SOARING UP THE GREEN BOSOM OF THE WOODY MOUNTAIN, UNTIL HE DISAPPEARED OVER THE BROW OF A BEETLING PRECIPICE. DOLPH FELT IN A MANNER REBUKED BYU THIS PROUD TRANQUILITY, AND ALMOST REPROACHED HIMSELF FOR HAVING SO WANTONLY INSULTED THIS MAJESTIC BIRD. HEER ANTHONY TOLD HIM, LAUGHING, TO REMEMBER THAT HE WAS NOT YET OUT OF THE TERRITORIES OF THE LORD OF THE DUNDERBERG; AND AN OLD INDIAN SHOOK HIS HEAD, AND OBSERVED, THAT THERE WAS BAD LUCK IN KILLING AN EAGLE; THE HUNTER, ON THE CONTRARY, SHOULD ALWAYS LEAVE HIM A PORTION OF THE SPOILS."

     "NOTHING, HOWEVER, OCCURRED TO MOLEST THEM ON THEIR VOYAGE. THEY PASSED PLEASANTLY THROUGH MAGNIFICENT AND LONELY SCENES, UNTIL THEY CAME TO WHERE POLLOPOL'S ISLAND LAY, LIKE A FLOATING BOWER, AT THE EXTREMITY OF THE HIGHLANDS. HERE THEY LANDED, UNTIL THE HEAD OF THE DAY SHOULD ABATE, OR A BREEZE SPRING UP, THAT MIGHT SUPERSEDE THE LABOUR OF THE OAR.  SOME PREPARED THE MID-DAY MEAL, WHILE OTHERS REPOSED UNDER THE SHADE TREES IN LUXURIOUS SUMMER INDOLENCE, LOOKING DROWSILY FORTH UPON THE BEAUTY OF THE SCENE. ON THE ONE SIDE WERE THE HIGHLANDS, VAST AND CRAGGED, FEATHERED TO THE TOP WITH FORESTS, AND THROWING THEIR SHADOWS ON THE GLASSY WATER THAT DIMPLED AT THEIR FEET. ON THE OTHER SIDE WAS A WIDE EXPANSE OF THE RIVER, LIKE A BROAD LAKE, WITH LONG SUNNY REACHES, AND GREEN HEADLANDS; AND THE DISTANT LINE OF SHAWUNKGUNK MOUNTAINS WAVING ALONG A CLEAR HORIZON, OR CHEQUERED BY A FLEECY CLOUD."

     THE OIL LAMP AT THE OLD EWING FARM, IN MONCK TOWNSHIP, NEAR BRACEBRIDGE, WAS SLOWLY EXTINGUISHED THAT PARTICULAR NIGHT, THE WICK BEING ROLLED DOWN SLOWLY INTO THE BURNER. THE LINGERING, WAFTING SCENT OF COAL OIL FILLED THE BEDROOM, AS THE COLD AUTUMN AIR DROPPING IN TEMPERATURE OUTSIDE, TO NEAR FROST, COULD BE FELT, LIKE A COLD SPIRIT, SEEPING INTO THE UPSTAIRS OF THE FARM HOUSE. THE BOOK WAS CLOSED, BUT THE PAGE MARKED FOR A RETURN ENGAGEMENT, PRIOR TO SLUMBER THE NEXT EVENING.....WHEN FROM UNDER A HEAVY WOOL BLANKET AND QUILT, THE STORY WOULD BE RESUMED BY THE FLICKER OF THE OLD OIL LAMP ON THE DRESSER.

     I PURCHASED THE WASHINGTON IRVING BOOK, CONTAINING THE STORY, "THE STORM SHIP," FROM AN ESTATE AUCTION, AT THE FORMER EWING FARM IN THE MID 1980'S. AT THE TIME, I PURCHASED FIFTEEN BOXES OF OLD BOOKS, FROM THE ANTIQUATED FARM LIBRARY, AND THE IRVING BOOK LOOKED TO HAVE BEEN ONE OF THE MOST FREQUENTLY READ AND RE-READ, BACK IN ITS PIONEER PERIOD, AS A MUSKOKA FARMSTEAD.  THE STORY OF THE PHANTOM SHIP WAS CLEARLY MARKED BY NUMEROUS BENT OVER CORNERS......AND THIS IS WHAT I HAVE FOLLOWED FOR INCLUSION ON THIS BLOG. THE POINT I WANT TO MAKE, IS THAT THESE STORIES, INCLUDING ONES TOLD BY CHARLES DICKENS, WERE TO BE FOUND ON THE FIRST HOMESTEADS IN OUR REGION OF ONTARIO......AND IT IS TO BE EXPECTED, THAT THEY FOUND SIMILARITIES IN THEIR NEW PLACE OF RESIDENCE, TO SOME OF THE HAUNTING, CHILLING, AND MEMORABLE STORIES SPUN BY AUTHORS LIKE WASHINGTON IRVING. DID THEY SEE PARALLELS TO SLEEPY HOLLOW, WHEN THEY LOOKED OUT ONTO THEIR HOMESTEADS? I WILL RETURN TO THE CONCLUSION OF "THE GHOST SHIP," FOR TOMORROW'S BLOG. I'LL RESUME WHERE PRESUMABLY, A MEMBER OF THE EWING FAMILY MAY HAVE LEFT OFF, ONE AUTUMN NIGHT MORE THAN A CENTURY AGO.

Washington Irvings Ghost Ship Part 2

 Washington Irvings Ghost Ship Part 2

I'D LIKE TO RETURN NOW, TO WASHINGTON IRVING'S TALE OF "THE STORM SHIP," IN THE HUDSON RIVER VALLEY, DATING BACK TO ITS EARLIEST SETTLERS, MANY OF WHO WERE FROM THE NETHERLANDS. MY FAMILY OF VANDERVOORTS MAY HAVE BEEN IN THIS SAME SETTING, OF WHICH IRVING IS WRITING ABOUT. MAYBE IT'S WHY THIS STORY IS SO ALLURING TO ME. BUT I DO FIND A RELEVANCE TO THE SPIRIT-PLAY IN MUSKOKA, AND MANY SHORELINE RESIDENTS HAVE CLAIMED TO SEE PHANTOM BOATS, SAIL BOATS, AND CANOES, ESPECIALLY DURING THUNDERSTORMS….WHICH SEEM SO ENCHANTING WITHIN THEMSELVES. CANADIAN LANDSCAPE ARTIST, TOM THOMSON, WAS PROFOUNDLY INTERESTED BY SUCH WEATHER-EVENTS, INCLUDING THE MAGIC OF THE NORTHERN LIGHTS, WHICH HE CAPTURED ON PAINT BOARDS MANY TIMES, PAINTING IN THE WILDS OF ONTARIO.

     "OTHER EVENTS OCCURRED TO OCCUPY THE THOUGHTS AND DOUBTS OF THE SAGE WOUTER AND HIS COUNCIL, AND THE STORM-SHIP CEASED TO BE A SUBJECT OF DELIBERATION AT THE BOARD. IT CONTINUED, HOWEVER, TO BE A MATTER OF POPULAR BELIEF AND MARVELOUS ANECDOTE THROUGH THE WHOLE TIME OF THE DUTCH GOVERNMENT, AND PARTICULARLY JUST BEFORE THE CAPTURE OF NEW AMSTERDAM, AND THE SUBJUGATION OF THE PROVINCE BY THE ENGLISH SQUADRON. ABOUT THAT TIME THE STORM SHIP WAS REPEATEDLY SEEN IN THE TAPPAN-ZEE, AND ABOUT WECHAWK, AND EVEN DOWN AS FAR AS HOBOKEN; AND HER APPEARANCE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE OMINOUS OF THE APPROACHING SQUALL IN PUBLIC AFFAIRS, AND THE DOWNFALL OF THE DUTCH DOMINATION," WROTE IRVING, IN THE SKETCH BOOK CHARACTER, OF GEOFFREY CRAYON ESQ. "SINCE THAT TIME WE HAVE NO AUTHENTIC ACCOUNTS OF HER; THOUGH IT IS SAID SHE STILL HAUNTS THE HIGHLANDS, AND CRUISES ABOUT POINT-TO-POINT. PEOPLE WHO LIVE ALONG THE RIVER, INSIST THAT THEY SOMETIMES SEE HER IN SUMMER MOONLIGHT; AND THAT IN A DEEP STILL MOONLIGHT THEY HAVE HEARD THE CHANT OF HER CREW, ALONG THE MOUNTAINOUS SHORES, AND ABOUT THE WIDE BAYS AND LONG REACHES OF THIS GREAT RIVER, THAT I CONFESS I HAVE VERY STRONG DOUBTS ABOUT THE SUBJECT."

     "IT IS CERTAIN, NEVERTHELESS, THAT STRANGE THINGS HAVE BEEN SEEN IN THESE HIGHLANDS IN STORMS, WHICH ARE CONSIDERED AS CONNECTED WITH THE OLD STORY OF THE SHIP. THE CAPTAINS OF THE RIVER CRAFT TALK OF A LITTLE BULBOUS-BOTTOMED DUTCH GOBLIN, IN TRUNK HOSE AND SUGAR-LOAF HAT, WITH A SPEAKING-TRUMPET IN HIS HAND, WHICH THEY SAY KEEPS ABOUT THE DUNDERBERG (THUNDER MOUNTAIN). THEY DECLARE THAT THEY HAVE HEARD HIM, IN STORMY WEATHER, IN THE MIDST OF THE TURMOIL, GIVING ORDERS IN LOW DUTCH FOR THE PIPING-UP OF A FRESH GUST OF WIND, OR THE RATTLING OFF OF ANOTHER THUNDER CLAP. THAT SOMETIMES HE HAS BEEN SEEN SURROUNDED BY A CREW OF LITTLE IMPS IN BROAD BREECHES AND SHORT DOUBLETS; TUMBLING HEAD OVER HEELS IN THE RACK AND MIST, AND PLAYING A THOUSAND GAMBOLS IN THE AIR; OR BUZZING LIKE A SWARM OF FLIES ABOUT ANTHONY'S NOSE; AND THAT, AT SUCH TIMES, THE HURRY-SCURRY OF THE STORM WAS ALWAYS GREATEST. ONE TIME, A SLOOP, IN PASSING BY THE DUNDERBERG, WAS OVERTAKEN BY A THUNDER-GUST, THAT CAME SCOURING ROUND THE MOUNTAIN, AND SEEMED TO BURST JUST OVER THE VESSEL. THOUGH TIGHT AND WELL BALLASTED, YET SHE LABOURED DREADFULLY, UNTIL THE WATER CAME OVER THE GUNWALE. ALL THE CREW WERE AMAZED, WHEN IT WAS DISCOVERED THAT THERE WAS A LITTLE WHITE SUGAR-LOAF HAT ON THE MAST HEAD, WHICH WAS KNOWN AT ONCE, TO BE THE HAT OF HEER OF THE DUNDERBURG. NOBODY HOWEVER, DARED TO CLIMB TO THE MAST-HEAD, AND GET RIDE OF THIS TERRIBLE HAT. THE SLOOP CONTINUED LABOURING AND ROCKING, AS IF SHE WOULD HAVE ROLLED HER MAST OVERBOARD. SHE SEEMED IN CONTINUAL DANGER EITHER OF UPSETTING OR OF RUNNING ON SHORE. IN THIS WAY SHE DROVE QUITE THROUGH THE HIGHLANDS UNTIL SHE HAD PASSED POLLOPOL'S ISLAND, WHERE , IT IS SAID, THE JURISDICTION OF THE DUNDERBERG POTENTATE CEASES. NO SOONER HAD SHE PASSED THIS BOURNE, THAN THE LITTLE HAT, ALL AT ONCE, SPUN UP INTO THE AIR LIKE A TOP, WHIRLED UP ALL THE CLOUDS INTO A VORTEX, AND HURRIED THEM BACK TO THE SUMMIT OF THE DUNDERBERG; WHILE THE SLOOP RIGHTED HERSELF, AND SAILED ON AS QUIETLY AS IF IN A MILL POND. NOTHING SAVED HER FROM UTTER WRECK BUT THE FORTUNATE CIRCUMSTANCES OF HAVING A HORSE-SHOE NAILED AGAINST THE MAST; A WISE PRECAUTION AGAINST EVIL SPIRITS, WHICH HAS SINCE BEEN ADOPTED BY ALL THE DUTCH CAPTAINS, THAT NAVIGATE THIS HAUNTED RIVER."

     THERE ARE STORIES, IN MUSKOKA, ABOUT STRANGE LIGHTS OUT ON THE LAKE, IN THE MIDDLE OF EVENING STORMS, THAT BELONG TO NO KNOWN BOAT. THERE HAVE BEEN THE DULL DRONE OF ENGINES, OF BOATS, THAT NEVER ARRIVED AT ANY DESTINATION. SIGHTINGS OF STRANGE SAIL BOATS ALONG THE HORIZON, THAT SUDDENLY DISAPPEAR, AND TRAVERSING CANOES, THAT SEEM TO VANISH JUST ABOUT THE TIME THEY APPEARED CLOSE TO TOUCHING AGAINST THE SAND SHORE OF A MISTY LAKE. THERE MAY BE THE SOUND OF A PADDLE AGAINST THE WATER, WITHOUT ANY CANOE IN THE VICINITY, OR THE SENSATION ON AN ISLAND SHORE, THAT YOU ARE BEING WATCHED BY SOMETHING, OR SOMEONE; WHEN NOT A LIVING SOUL, OR LARGE ANIMAL IS IN THE VICINITY. THERE IS DEFINITELY A SENSORY INVIGORATION, SITTING BY THE RUINS OF AN OLD COTTAGE OR COUNTRYSIDE HOMESTEAD, FEELING AS IF THE LIFE AND TIMES OF ONCE, ARE STILL BEING PLAYED OUT IN FRONT OF THE WATCHER……DESPITE THE FACT NARY A MIST OR SHADOW CAN BE WITNESSED. YET THE KEEN VOYEUR KNOWS IT IS A HAUNTED, SPIRITUALLY POWERFUL PLACE.

     PLEASE JOIN ME FOR MORE ABOUT THE WASHINGTON IRVING'S "THE STORM SHIP," IN TOMORROW'S BLOG. THANKS SO MUCH FOR JOINING ME TODAY. I'M GETTING WOOD SET OUT, FOR MY WINTER-TIME FIRES, AND WILL AGAIN REPORT FROM HEARTHSIDE, THIS COMING FALL AND WINTER SEASON……FROM THE WARM BOSOM OF BIRCH HOLLOW, IN THE ENCHANTING EMBRACE OF SOUTH MUSKOKA.

The Historic Hudson River Valley and The Ghost Ship Part 1

THE GIFT OF IMAGINATION - TO SEE MORE CLEARLY THE INTRICACIES OF NATURE

WHAT THE UNIMAGINATIVE MISS OVER A LIFETIME

     POSSIBLY YOU WILL HAVE TO PLACE YOURSELF BACK IN CHILDHOOD, JUST A TAD, REMEMBERING THOSE LINGERING, SENSORY STIMULATING, PRECIOUS MOMENTS AT LAKESIDE; OR IN THE MAPLE GROVE OF A FAVORITE PARK; STROLLING ON AN AUGUST AFTERNOON, DOWN A POPULAR TREE-LINED PATH, AFTER SCHOOL WITH NO HOMEWORK AHEAD. A TIME WHEN IMAGINATION WAS UNFETTERED…..ONLY RESTRICTED BY THE NON-SLUMBER HOURS OF EACH DAY. THERE WERE NO MORAL TITHES, NO POLITICAL CORRECTNESS ATTACHED, AND FEW PRECONCEIVED NOTIONS. A TIME WHEN FREEDOM WAS FULFILLED FIRST, BY AN ACTIVE, VIBRANT IMAGINATION. IF YOU HAPPENED TO SEE AN APPARITION, A HOBGOBLIN OR MYSTERIOUS VAPOR ALONG THE PATH, YOU DIDN'T RUN AWAY. RATHER, YOU STUDIED IT, AS IF IT WAS OF NATURAL IMPORTANCE FIRST…..A HOLLYWOOD-LIKE THRILLER, SECOND. YOU WOULD HAVE GIVEN THE PARANORMAL CAREFUL SCRUTINY, TO SEE IF THERE WAS A LOGICAL EXPLANATION TO WHAT DRIFTED ACROSS YOUR PATH, OR CALLED OUT YOUR NAME, AS IF A FRIEND COMING BEHIND. WE HAVE ALL EXPERIENCED THESE STRANGE MOMENTS, LOST IN THOUGHT, SUDDENLY REMINDED THAT LIFE IS JUST LIKE THAT……AND WELCOMED UNCEREMONIOUSLY TO THE SUPERNATURAL. SOMETHING OCCURRING BEYOND THE NATURAL OR NORMAL, ATTACHED TO SIMILAR HIKES AND EVENTS. WHAT MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE HAPPENED, IS UP TO MORTAL EXAMINATION AND SPECULATION. IMAGINATION IS THE TOOL OF CHOICE, TO WEIGH OVER ALL THE POSSIBILITIES, INCLUDING THAT THE SIGHTING MAY HAVE JUST BEEN A PLAY OF NATURAL LIGHT, OR A DRIFT OF MIST FROM AN ADJACENT LOWLAND; THE VOICE, A TRICK OF THE WIND, WASHSING THROUGH THE OVERHEAD EVERGREEN BOUGHS, OR THE CROAKING OF AN OLD FROG NEARBY. OF COURSE, IMAGINATION MIGHT ALSO FUEL THE FEAR, THAT A DEVILISH CREATURE MIGHT BE FOLLOWING BEHIND. BUT ALAS, WE EXERCISE OUR CREATIVE RESOURCES TO ANALYZE, AND OCCASIONALLY, EMBELLISH. WHAT LURKS IN THE SHADOW? 

     I CAN'T REMEMBER HOW MANY THOUSAND TIMES, I FELT THE SUPERNATURAL QUALITIES OF NATURE, NEVER ONCE THINKING IT TO BE A PARANORMAL ENCOUNTER. IT WAS NORMAL FOR ME TO THINK OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER AS A LIVING, WRITHING SERPENT, AS IT SNAKED THROUGH THE URBAN AREA OF BRACEBRIDGE. ON MY WAY TO AND FROM SCHOOL, I CROSSED THAT EXPANSE OF PULSATING RIVER, OFTEN FOUR TIMES EACH DAY. I USED TO STAND OUT, ON THE HUNT'S HILL BRIDGE, ON THE WAY TO AND FROM SCHOOL, BELIEVING THIS RIVER WANTED TO SNATCH ME FROM MY SAFE PLACE OF OBSERVATION. THE FACT THAT IT HAD LED TO THE DROWNING DEATHS OF HUNDREDS OF CITIZENS, FROM THE PIONEER DAYS OF THE 1850'S, MADE THIS BLACK RIBBON OF WATER SO ENCHANTING. IF YOU WATCHED ITS MOVEMENT LONG ENOUGH, IT SEEMED TO HAVE A HYPNOTIZING AFFECT; ALMOST COMPELLING THE VOYEUR TO WALK DOWN TO THE SHORE, AND TOUCH ITS SILKEN SURFACE, DEEPLY REFLECTING THE NUANCES OF EACH DAY AND NIGHT. I ASSUMED IT WAS THE REASON SO MANY YOUNG PEOPLE WERE SWALLOWED BY ITS UNDERTOW, AND PULLED OVER THE RAPIDS, AND THEN TUMBLING THEIR LOST SOULS OVER THE MAIN FALLS, CRUMPLED, BROKEN AND DUTIFULLY DROWNED IN THE MIST OF THE POWER DECLINE.  I HAD FRIENDS TAKEN BY THIS RIVER. THEY GOT TOO CLOSE. THEY FORGOT WHAT THEIR MOTHERS HAD TOLD THEM, ABOUT THE DANGEROUS UNDERTOW. IT NEARLY CLAIMED ME. I HAD BEEN SWIMMING AT BASS ROCK, JUST BELOW THE RAPIDS, AND GOT CAUGHT IN THE CURRENT. MY GUARDIAN ANGEL ONCE AGAIN INFORMED ME, I COULD NOT LEAVE THIS MORTAL COIL JUST YET. I WAS THEN IN EQUAL PERIL, WITH SUZANNE, WHEN OUR CANOE CAPSIZED DURING A RACE ON THE SOUTH BRANCH. WE HAD TO BE RESCUED. THE RIVER SEEMED ANGRY TO HAVE LOST ME ON TWO OCCASIONS OF IMMINENT DEATH.

     I REMAIN TO THIS DAY, REVERENT OF THE BRANCHES OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER, NORTH AND SOUTH. I STILL SEE IT AS AN ENTITY UNTO ITSELF, AND OVER THE DECADES OF OUR RELATIONSHIP, I HAVE SEEN ITS MANY MOODS….AND THIS SPRING, ITS OVERFLOWING REACH FURTHER INTO THE COMMUNITY, DAMAGING MANY PROPERTIES IN ITS RAGE OVER THE RIVE BANKS. I HAVE SEEN, IN THE EARLY MORNING, PHANTOM CANOEISTS, HIKERS ALONG ITS SHORE, AS I HAVE IN WINTER, SEEN SKATERS EMERGING FROM THE FRIGID, SPIRALING JANUARY MIST…..WHO DISAPPEARED AS SUDDENLY, AND SILENTLY AS THEY HAD EMERGED. WERE THEY THE GHOSTS OF THOSE PEOPLE CLAIMED IN THE PAST, BY THIS UNRELENTING, UNFORGIVING WATERWAY?  WHAT CHILD HASN'T IMAGINED A GHOST OR PHANTOM OF SOME CHARACTER, AFTER A STORM, OR JUST AFTER SUNSET…..OR IN THE MILKY GLOW OF A HARVEST MOON, ON THIS MIRRORING, WAVERING, DEEP RUNNING ARTERY. THEY MIGHT TELL THEIR MOTHERS AND FATHERS ABOUT HEARING THEIR NAMES BEING CALLED OUT, AS THEY PASSED OVER THE BRIDGE……LOOKING OUT ON THE WATER, EXPECTING TO SEE SOMEONE THEY KNOW, IN A BOAT FLOATING BELOW. PARENTS WOULD ADMONISH THEIR YOUNGSTERS FOR LINGERING IN A DANGEROUS PLACE, AND SUGGEST IT WAS JUST LIKELY THE SOUND OF WATER HITTING AGAINST THE BRIDGE ABUTMENTS. SUCH IS THE FOLLY OF AN UNENCUMBERED IMAGINATION. MY MOTHER MERLE WARMED ME ABOUT THE RIVER, ON EVERY MORNING I LEFT FOR SCHOOL. IT WAS PART OF MY DAY, TO BE WARNED OF THE POTENTIAL OF DROWNING, IF I GOT TOO CLOSE. I DID, AND IT NEARLY COST ME MY LIFE. AND MY WIFE'S.

WASHINGTON IRVING'S "STORM SHIP"

     "IN THE GOLDEN AGE OF THE PROVINCE OF NEW NETHERLANDS, WHEN IT WAS UNDER THE SWAY OF WOUTER VAN TWILLER, OTHERWISE CALLED 'THE DOUBTER,' THE PEOPLE OF THE MANHATTOES WERE ALARMED ONE SULTRY AFTERNOON, JUST ABOUT THE TIME OF THE SUMMER SOLSTICE, BY A TREMENDOUS STORM OF THUNDER AND LIGHTNING. THE RAIN DESCENDED IN SUCH TORRENTS AS ABSOLUTELY TO SPATTER UP AND SMOKE ALONG THE GROUND. IT SEEMED AS IF THE THUNDER RATTLED AND ROLLED OVER THE VERY ROOFS OF THE HOUSES; THE LIGHTNING WAS SEEN TO PLAY ABOUT THE CHURCH OF ST. NICHOLAS, AND TO STRIVE THREE TIMES, IN VAIN, TO STRIKE ITS WEATHERCOCK. GARRET VAN HORNE'S NEW CHIMNEY WAS SPLIT ALMOST FROM THE TOP TO BOTTOM; AND DOFFUE MILDEBERGER WAS STRUCK SPEECHLESS FROM HIS BALD-FACED MARE, JUST AS HE WAS RIDING INTO TOWN. IN A WORD, IT WAS ONE OF THOSE UNPARALLELED STORMS, THAT ONLY HAPPEN ONCE WITH THE MEMORY OF THAT VENERABLE PERSONAGE, KNOWN TO ALL TOWNS BY THE APPELLATION OF 'THE OLDEST INHABITANT.'

     GREAT WAS THE TERROR OF THE GOOD OLD WOMEN OF THE MANHATTOES. THE GATHERED THEIR CHILDREN TOGETHER, AND TOOK REFUGE IN THE CELLARS; AFTER HAVING HUNG A SHOE ON THE IRON POINT OF EVERY BED POST, LEST IT SHOULD ATTRACT THE LIGHTNING. AT LENGTH, THE STORM ABATED; THE THUNDER SUNK INTO A GROWL, AND THE SETTING SUN, BREAKING FROM UNDER THE FRINGED BORDERS OF THE CLOUDS, MADE THE BROAD BOSOM OF THE BAY TO GLEAM LIKE A SEA OF MOLTEN GOLD," WROTE WASHINGTON IRVING, IN THE CHARACTER OF GEOFFREY CRAYON ESQ., IN THE CONTINUATION OF THE SKETCH BOOKS, CIRCA 1862. HE WAS WRITING, OF COURSE, ABOUT THE PRESENT STATE OF NEW YORK, AND THE HUDSON RIVER VALLEY.

     "THE WORD WAS GIVEN FROM THE FORT THAT A SHIP WAS STANDING UP THE BAY. IT PASSED FROM MOUTH TO MOUTH, AND STREET TO STREET, AND SOON PUT THE LITTLE CAPITAL IN A BUSTLE. THE ARRIVAL OF A SHIP, IN THOSE EARLY TIMES OF THE SETTLEMENT, WAS AN EVENT OF VAST IMPORTANCE TO THE INHABITANTS. IT BROUGHT THEM NEWS FROM THE OLD WORLD, FROM THE LAND OF THEIR BIRTH, FROM WHIHC THEY WERE SO COMPLETELY SEVERED. TO THE YEARLY SHIP, TOO, THEY LOOKED FOR THEIR SUPPLY OF LUXURIES, OF FINERY, OF COMFORTS AND ALMOST OF NECESSARIES. THE GOOD VROUW COULD NOT HAVE HER NEW CAP NOR GOWN UNTIL THE ARRIVAL OF THE SHIP; THE ARTIST WAITED FOR IT FOR HIS TOOLS, THE BURGOMASTER FOR HIS PIPE AND HIS SUPPLY OF HOLLANDS, THE SCHOOLBOY FOR HIS TOP AND MARBLES, AND THE LORDLY LANDHOLDER, FOR THE BRICK WITH WHICH HE WAS TO BUILD HIS NEW MANSION. THUS EVERYONE, RICH AND POOR, GREAT AND SMALL, LOOKED OUT FOR THE ARRIVAL OF THE SHIP. IT WAS THE GREAT YEARLY EVENT OF THE TOWN OF NEW AMSTERDAM; AND FROM ONE END OF THE YEAR TO THE OTHER, THE SHIP - THE SHIP - THE SHIP, WAS THE CONTINUAL TOPIC OF CONVERSATION."

     IRVING WRITES, "THE APPEARANCE OF THIS SHIP THREW THE GOVERNOR INTO ONE OF THE DEEPEST DOUBTS THAT EVER BESET HIM IN THE WHOLE COURSE OF HIS ADMINISTRATION. FEARS WERE ENTERTAINED FOR THE SECURITY OF THE INFANT SETTLEMENT ON THE RIVER, LEST THIS MIGHT BE AN ENEMY'S SHIP IN DISGUISE, SENT TO TAKE POSSESSION. THE GOVERNOR CALLED TOGETHER HIS COUNCIL REPEATEDLY, TO ASSIST HIM WITH THEIR CONJECTURES. HE SAT IN HIS CHAIR OF STATE, BUILT OF TIMBER FROM THE SACRED FOREST OF THE HAGUE, AND SMOKED HIS LONG JASMIN PIPE, AND LISTENED TO ALL THAT HIS COUNSELLORS HAD TO SAY ON A SUBJECT WHICH THEY KNEW NOTHING; BUT IN SPITE OF ALL THE CONJECTURING OF THE SAGEST AND OLDEST HEADS, THE GOVERNOR STILL CONTINUED TO DOUBT.

     MESSENGERS WERE DESPATCHED TO DIFFERENT PLACES ON THE RIVER; BUT THEY RETURNED WITHOUT ANY TIDINGS - THE SHIP HAD MADE NO PORT. DAY AFTER DAY, AND WEEK AFTER WEEK, ELAPSED, BUT SHE NEVER RETURNED DOWN THE HUDSON. AS, HOWEVER, THE COUNCIL SEEMED SOLICITOUS FOR INTELLIGENCE, THEY HAD IT IN ABUNDANCE. THE CAPTAINS OF SLOOPS SELDOM ARRIVED WITHOUT BRINGING SOME REPORT OF HAVING SEEN THE STRANGE SHIP AT DIFFERENT PARTS OF THE RIVER; SOMETIMES NEAR THE PALLISADES, SOMETIMES OFF CROTON POINT, AND SOMETIMES IN THE HIGHLANDS, BUT SHE NEVER WAS REPORTED AS HAVING BEEN SEEN ABOVE THE HIGHLANDS. THE CREWS OF THE SLOOPS, IT IS TRUE, GENERALLY DIFFERED AMONG THEMSELVES IN THEIR ACCOUNTS OF THESE APPARITIONS, BUT THAT MAY HAVE ARISEN FROM THE UNCERTAIN SITUATIONS IN WHICH THEY SAW HER. SOMETIMES IT WAS BY THE FLASHES OF THE THUNDERSTORM LIGHTNING, UP A PITCHY NIGHT, AND GIVING GLIMPSES OF HER CAREERING ACROSS TAPPAAN ZEE, OR THE WIDE WASTE OF HAVERSTRAW BAY. AT ONE MOMENT SHE WOULD APPEAR CLOSE UPON THEM, AS IF LIKELY TO RUN THEM DOWN, AND WOULD THROW UPON THEM, AS IF LIKELY TO RUN THEM DOWN, AND WOULD THROW THEM INTO GREAT BUSTLE AND ALARM; BUT THE NEXT FLASH WOULD SHOW HER FAR OFF, ALWAYS SAILING AGAINST THE WIND. SOMETIMES IN QUIET MOONLIGHT NIGHTS, SHE WOULD BE SEEN UNDER SOME HIGH BLUFF OF THE HIGHLANDS, ALL IN DEEP SHADOW, EXCEPTING HER TOP-SAILS GLITTERING IN THE MOONBEAMS; BY THE TIME, HOWEVER, THAT THE VOYAGERS WOULD REACH THE PLACE, THERE WOULD BE NO SHIP TO BE SEEN; AND WHEN THEY HAD PAST ON FOR SOME DISTANCE, AND LOOKED BACK, BEHOLD, THERE SHE WAS AGAIN, WITH HERS TOP SAILS IN THE MOONSHINE.! HER APPEARANCE WAS ALWAYS JUST AFTER, OR JUST BEFORE, OR JUST IN THE MIDST OF UNRULY WEATHER; AND SHE WAS KNOWN BY ALL THE SKIPPERS AND VOYAGERS OF THE HUDSON, BY THE NAME OF 'THE STORM SHIP'."

     THERE HAVE BEEN, OVER THE DECADES, FOLKS AROUND THE SHORELINE OF LAKE MUSKOKA, WHO HAVE THOUGHT THEY HAD WITNESSED GHOSTLY PASSAGE OF THE SUNKEN STEAMSHIP, WAOME, CLAIMED MANY YEARS AGO NOW BY A SUDDEN VIOLENT STORM. SOME CLAIM TO HEAR A MYSTERIOUS STEAM WHISTLE, FROM OUT OF THE FOG, AND OTHERS WHO SEE THE OUTLINE OF A SMALL STEAMSHIP, CHUGGING IN THE RAIN OF A MAJOR STORM EVENT….JUST LIKE THE ONE THAT CLAIMED IT. THERE ARE TIMES WHEN WE ARE SUDDENLY SURPRISED BY SOME EVENT, WE CAN ONLY DETERMINE AS THE CREATION OF AN OVER-ACTIVE IMAGINATION. IT DOESN'T EXPLAIN PARANORMAL ENCOUNTERS, EXPERIENCED BY HAPPENSTANCE VOYEURS, WHO HAVE NO IDEA THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE EVENT, OR VISION THEY MAY HAVE WITNESSED. THEY ARE LEFT PUZZLED ABOUT WHO COULD HAVE BEEN NAVIGATING THAT PHANTOM CANOE, OR PILOTING THE MYSTERIOUS GHOST SHIP, LOST MANY YEARS EARLIER. FOR AS LONG AS THERE HAVE BEEN WITNESSES, THERE HAVE BEEN UNEXPLAINED EVENTS; MYSTERIOUS SIGHTINGS; PEOPLE ENCOUNTERED, WHO WERE SUPPOSED TO BE DECEASED, LIKE THE VICTORIAN WOMAN, INTERRUPTED IN A MILFORD BAY CEMETERY, WHO HAD APPARENTLY SNAGGED HER LONG WHITE GOWN ON SOME WIRE FENCING. WHEN THE YOUNG COUPLE, PASSING NEARBY, TRIED TO ASSIST HER, THE WOMAN DISAPPEARED INTO THE NIGHT AIR. THERE ARE STORIES TOLD, THAT EVENING STROLLERS HAVE COME UPON THE GHOST OF GEORGE CYR, THE LAST MAN HUNG IN BRACEBRIDGE, BURIED SOMEWHERE NEAR THE TOP OF CHANCERY LANE. HE DOESN'T SPEAK, BUT OBVIOUSLY, HAS SOME DOUBT ABOUT HIS ETERNAL PURPOSE. THE IMAGINATION, OF COURSE, PLAYS ITS ROLE, DOESN'T IT. I HAD FAR MORE REPORTS OF GEORGE CYR'S SIGHTINGS, AFTER I WROTE A LENGTHY FEATURE ARTICLE FOR THE HERALD-GAZETTE, BACK IN THE EARLY 1980'S…..ESPECIALLY AROUND HALLOWE'EN. CYR WAS ACTUALLY IMPRISONED IN THE BASEMENT OF THE HERALD-GAZETTE, AWAITING HIS EXECUTION; IT IS KNOWN THAT HE COULD HEAR THE GALLOWS BEING BUILT NEAR BY. CYR BURIED HIS GUN, ACCORDING TO HIS LAWYER, REDMOND THOMAS, AND IT IS WONDERED ALOUD, AMONGST BELIEVERS, WHETHER HE IS JUST LOOKING TO FIND WHERE HE HAD DUG THE HOLE. REDMOND THOMAS KNEW WHERE IT WAS, BUT TODAY? WHO KNOWS?

     I WILL REJOIN WASHINGTON IRVING'S TALE OF "THE STORM SHIP," IN TOMORROW'S BLOG. PLEASE JOIN ME FOR A TALE OF THE FANTASTIC. BRING YOUR INVIGORATED, LIBERATED IMAGINATION.

Bracebridge Ontario and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow Part 3

BRACEBRIDGE, MUSKOKA, AND THE LEGENDARY RIDE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN

ICHABOD....POOR FELLOW

     "IRVING DIED ON THE NIGHT OF NOVEMBER 28TH, 1859, AND ALL THAT WAS MORTAL OF HIM WAS BURIED ON THE 1ST OF DECEMBER, AT TARRYTOWN. IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL WINTER DAY, CLEAR AND SUNNY, RADIANT WITH THE STILL LINGERING INDIAN SUMMER, WHICH SHED A SOFT AND MELANCHOLY LIGHT OVER THE SOLEMN SCENE. 'IT WAS ONE OF HIS OWN DAYS,' SAID THE MOURNERS, AS THEY RODE FROM 'SUNNYSIDE,' TO CHRIST CHURCH, WHERE THE FUNERAL SERVICES WERE HELD, AND THENCE TO THE CEMETERY, ABOUT A MILE DISTANT, ON THE SIDE OF A HILL, WITH A VIEW OF THE HUDSON ON ONE SIDE, AND ON THE OTHER, OF THE VALLEY OF SLEEPY HOLLOW - CLASSIC GROUND WHICH THE GENIUS OF IRVING HAS MADE IMMORTAL," WROTE RICHARD HENRY STODDARD, IN HIS BRIEF BIOGRAPHY, ACCOMPANYING THE 1893 REPUBLICATION OF "THE SKETCH BOOK."

     MY 1893 EDITION OF WASHINGTON IRVING'S, "THE SKETCH BOOK," IS NEARING THE POINT, WHERE LIKE ICHABOD CRANE, IT WILL SOON RETURN TO THE EARTH FROM WHICH IT CAME. ONE OF THREE IN THE REPRINT SERIES FROM THE 1890'S, I PURCHASED AT THE EWING ESTATE AUCTION, IN THE MID 1980'S, AT THE ZISKA ROAD FARMSTEAD, IN BRACEBRIDGE, IS IN FAILING HEALTH, DUE TO THE POORER QUALITY PAPER ON WHICH IT WAS PRINTED. THE ACID CONTENT IN THE PAPER IS ACTUALLY WORKING FROM THE INSIDE OUT, TO TURN THE PAPER INTO A FINE DUST. I'VE HAD SEVERAL BOOKS DETERIORATE IN THIS FASHION, BUT THEY WERE NEVER VALUABLE TEXTS TO START WITH. WHILE I WOULD LIKE TO OWN FIRST EDITIONS OF BOTH "THE SKETCH BOOK," FROM 1819 AND "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," CIRCA 1822, I DON'T HAVE THE THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IT WOULD TAKE TO MAKE THE ACQUISITIONS. THE CHEAPER VERSIONS OF THE SAME BOOKS, OF THE 1890'S, WERE PUBLISHED FOR THE MASSES, AND WERE OFTEN KNOWN BROADLY AS THE "POPULAR EDITION," AND THE "CHEAP EDITION." THE PAPER WAS OF LESSER QUALITY, AND YET, IT HAS STILL LASTED FOR WELL MORE THAN A CENTURY, UP TO AND INCLUDING HALLOWEEN 2013....AND ITS OBLIGING KINDNESS TO THIS WRITER, OFFERING THE OPEN PAGES OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW." I WILL LOOK AFTER THIS BOOK, AS BEST I CAN, IN AN ARCHIVE'S SENSE, BUT I KNOW IT WON'T BE OF MUCH USE IN ANOTHER TEN YEARS, AS EVEN NOW, ALL IT WOULD TAKE IS A MODEST AMOUNT OF ROUGH HANDLING TO DISINTEGRATE TOTALLY. IT IS KIND OF A SPIRITED LITTLE COLLECTION, AND IT MEANS SOMETHING TO ME, IN THE FACT THAT IT CAME FROM A BRACEBRDIGE AREA FARMSTEAD, WHEN THE TOWN ITSELF CARRIES THE PROVENANCE OF WASHINGTON IRVING. IF YOU ARE JUST JOINING THE BLOG TODAY, YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TO MONDAY, WHEN THE WASHINGTON IRVING SERIES BEGAN. YOU WILL LEARN ABOUT THE PROVENANCE BETWEEN WASHINGTON IRVING'S BOOK, "BRACEBRIDGE HALL," AND HOW THE NAME WAS SELECTED BY POSTAL AUTHORITY, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, IN 1864, FOR THE TITLE OF THE NEW POST OFFICE FOR THE PIONEER HAMLET. THE UNFORTUNATE REALITY IS, THAT THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE HAS NEVER IN ITS HISTORY, DECIDED PUBLICLY, AT LEAST, TO FURTHER DEVELOP THE INHERENTLY POSITIVE RELATIONSHIP, WITH ONE OF THE BEST KNOWN WRITERS IN THE WORLD. PITY.

     WE NOW REVIST THE LAST FEW MOMENTS OF THE WILD WOODLAND RIDE, OF IRVING'S TRAGIC CHARACTER, ICHABOD CRANE, THE TEACHER AT THE SLEEPY HOLLOW SCHOOL. IN THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER, ICHABOD WAS BEING CHASED, ON HIS WAY HOME, BY THE HESSIAN TROOPER, BETTER KNOWN AS "THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN." IT'S IS EXPECTED BY IRVING, THAT READERS WILL UNDERSTAND THE HORSEMAN, BY SPECULATION,TO BE THE CHARACTER BRAM BONES, THE OTHER MAN IN COMPETITION FOR ONE OF THE SLEEPY HOLLOW DAMSELS. JEALOUSY CAN LED TO MANY SUCH MISADVENTURES. OR, WAS IT A TRUE TO LIFE CASE OF THE SUPERNATURAL MANIFESTATION, OF A FORMER SOLDIER, SEARCHING FOR HIS LOST HEAD.....THE RESULT OF BEING IN THE WAY OF CANNON FIRE, DURING AN UNNAMED BATTLE OF THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR. PLEASE READ ON:

     "AN OPENING IN THE TREES  CHEERED HIM WITH THE HOPE, THAT THE CHURCH BRIDGE WAS AT HAND," WROTE WASHINGTON IRVING, OF ICHABOD CRANE'S ILL FATED RIDE, AGAINST THE DARK APPARITION ON THE THUNDEROUSLY LARGE, GALLOPING STEED, IN THE FINAL PARAGRAPHS OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."

     "THE WAVERING REFLECTION OF A SILVER STAR IN THE BOSOM OF THE BROOK, TOLD HIM THAT HE WAS NOT MISTAKEN. HE SAW THE WALLS OF THE CHURCH DIMLY GLARING UNDER THE TREES BEYOND. HE (ICHABOD) RECOLLECTED WHERE BROM BONES' GHOSTLY COMPETITOR HAD DISAPPEARED. 'IF I CAN BUT REACH THAT BRIDGE,' THOUGHT ICHABOD. 'I AM SAFE'. JUST THEN HE HEARD THE BLACK STEED PANTING AND BLOWING CLOSE BEHIND HIM; HE EVEN FANCIED THAT HE FELT HIS HOT BREATH. ANOTHER CONVULSIVE KICK IN THE RIBS, AND OLD GUNPOWDER SPRUNG UPON THE BRIDGE; HE THUNDERED OVER THE RESOUNDING PLANKS; HE GAINED THE OPPOSITE SIDE, AND NOW ICHABOD CAST A LOOK BEHIND, TO SEE IF HIS PURSUER SHOULD VANISH, ACCORDING TO RULE IN A FLASH OF FIRE AND BRIMSTONE. JUST THEN HE SAW THE GOBLIN RISING IN HIS STIRRUPS, AND IN THE VERY ACT OF HURLING HIS HEAD AT HIM. ICHABOD ENDEAVOURED TO DODGE THE HORRIBLE MISSILE, BUT TOO LATE. IT ENCOUNTERED HIS CRANIUM WITH A TREMENDOUS CRASH - HE WAS TUMBLED HEADLONG INTO THE DUST, AND GUNPOWDER, THE BLACK STEED, AND THE GOBLIN RIDER, PASSED BY LIKE A WHIRLWIND," WROTE IRVING, OF THE TEACHER, HAVING BEEN KNOCKED VIOLENTLY OFF HIS MOUNT. BY OF ALL THINGS, A THROWN HEAD....WHICH TURNED OUT SOMEWHAT DIFFERENTLY UPON FINAL INSPECTION.

     "THE NEXT MORNING THE OLD HORSE WAS FOUND WITHOUT HIS SADDLE AND WITH THE BRIDLE UNDER HIS FEET, SOBERLY CROPPING THE GRASS AT HIS MASTER'S GATE. ICHABOD DID NOT MAKE HIS APPEARANCE AT BREAKFAST - DINNER HOUR CAME, BUT NO ICHABOD. THE BOYS ASSEMBLED AT THE SCHOOL-HOUSE, AND STROLLED IDLY ABOUT THE BANKS OF THE BROOK; BUT NO SCHOOL MASTER. HANS VAN RIPPER NOW BEGAN TO FEEL SOME UNEASINESS ABOUT THE FATE OF POOR ICHABOD, AND HIS SADDLE. AN INQUIRY WAS SET ON FOOT, AND AFTER DILIGENT INVESTIGATION, THEY CAME UPON HIS TRACES. IN ONE PART OF THE ROAD LEADING TO THE CHURCH, WAS FOUND THE SADDLE TRAMPLED IN THE DIRT; THE TRACKS OF HORSES' HOOFS DEEPLY DENTED IN THE ROAD, AND EVIDENTLY AT A FURIOUS SPEED, WERE TRACED TO THE BRIDGE BEYOND WHICH, ON THE BANK OF A BROAD PART OF THE BROOK, WHERE THE WATER RAN DEEP AND BLACK, WAS FOUND THE HAT OF THE UNFORTUNAE ICHABOD, AND CLOSE BESIDE IT, A PUMPKIN."

     THE AUTHOR REPORTS, "THE BROOK WAS SEARCHED, BUT THE BODY OF THE SCHOOL MASTER WAS NOT TO BE DISCOVERED. HANS VAN RIPPER, AS EXECUTOR OF HIS ESTATE, EXAMINED THE SADDLE, WHICH CONTAINED ALL HIS WORDLY EFFECTS. THEY CONSISTED OF TWO SHIRTS AND A HALF; TWO SOCKS FOR THE NECK; A PAIR OF TWO WORSTED STOCKINGS; AN OLD PAIR OF CORDUROY SMALL-CLOTHES; A RUSTY RAZOR; A BOOK OF PSALM TUNES FULL OF DOG'S EARS (FOLDED CORNERS); AND A BROKEN PITCH PIPE. AS TO THE BOOKS AND FURNITURE OF THE SCHOOL HOUSE, THEY BELONGED TO THE COMMUNITY, EXCEPTING COTTON MATHER'S HISTORY OF WITCHCRAFT, A NEW ENGLAND GLAND ALMANAC, AND A BOOK OF DREAMS AND FORTUNE-TELLING; IN WHICH LAST WAS A SHEET OF FOOLSCAP, MUCH SCRIBBLED AND BLOTTED BY SEVERAL FRUITLESS ATTEMPTS TO MAKE A COPY OF VERSES, IN HONOUR OF THE HEIRESS OF VAN TASSEL. THESE MAGIC BOOKS AND THE POETIC SCRAWL WERE FORTHRIGHT CONSIGNED TO THE FLAMES BY HANS VAN RIPPER; WHO FROM THAT TIME FORWARD, DETERMINED TO SEND HIS CHILDREN NO MORE TO SCHOOL; OBSERVING THAT HE NEVER KNEW ANY GOOD COME OF THIS SAME READING AND WRITING. WHATEVER MONEY THE SCHOOL MASTER POSSESSED, AND HE HAD RECEIVED HIS QUARTER'S PAY BUT A DAY OR TWO BEFORE, HE MUST HAVE HAD ABOUT HIS PERSON AT THE TIME OF HIS DISAPPEARANCE.

     "THE MYSTERIOUS EVENT CAUSED MUCH SPECULATION AT THE CHURCH ON THE FOLLOWING SUNDAY. KNOTS OF GAZERS AND GOSSIPS WERE COLLECTED IN THE CHURCHYARD, AT THE BRIDGE, AND AT THE SPOT WHERE THE HAT AND PUMPKIN HAD BEEN FOUND. THE STORIES OF BROUWER, BROM BONES AND A WHOLE BUDGET OF OTHERS, WERE CALLED TO MIND, AND WHEN THEY HAD DILIGENTLY CONSIDERED THEM ALL, AND COMPARED THEM WITH THE SYMPTOMS OF THE PRESENT CASE, THEY SHOOK THEIR HEADS, AND CAME TO THE CONCLUSION, THAT ICHABOD HAD BEEN CARRIED OFF BY THE GALLOPING HESSIAN. AS HE WAS A BACHELOR, AND IN NOBODY'S DEBT, NOBODY TROUBLED HIS HEAD ANY MORE ABOUT HIM; THE SCHOOL WAS REMOVED TO A DIFFERENT QUARTER OF THE HOLLOW, AND ANOTHER PEDAGOGUE REIGNED IN HIS STEAD.

     "IT IS TRUE, AN OLD FARMER, WHO HAD BEEN DOWN TO NEW YORK ON A VISIT SEVERAL YEARS AFTER, AND FROM WHOM THIS ACCOUNT OF THE GHOSTLY ADVENTURES WAS RECEIVED, BROUGHT HOME THE INTELLIGENCE THAT ICHABOD CRANE WAS STILL ALIVE; THAT HE HAD LEFT THE NEIGHBOURHOOD, PARTLY THROUGH FEAR OF THE GOBLIN AND HANS VAN RIPPER, AND PARTLY IN MORTIFICATION AT HAVING BEEN SUDDENLY DISMISSED BY THE HEIRESS; THAT HE HAD CHANGED HIS QUARTERS TO A DISTANT PART OF THE COUNTRY; HAD KEPT SCHOOL AND STUDIED LAW AT THE SAME TIME; HAD BEEN ADMITTED TO THE BAR; TURNED POLITICIAN; ELECTIONEERED; WRITTEN FOR NEWSPAPERS; AND FINALLY HAD BEEN MADE A JUSTICE OF THE TEN POUND COURT. BROM BONES, TOO, WHO, SHORTLY AFTER HIS RIVAL'S DISAPPEARANCE, CONDUCTED THE BLOOMING KATRINA IN TRIUMPH TO THE ALTAR, WAS OBSERVED TO LOOK EXCEEDINGLY KNOWING WHENEVER THE STORY OF ICHABOD WAS RELATED, AND ALWAYS BURST INTO A HEARTY LAUGH AT THE MENTION OF THE PUMPKIN; WHICH LED SOME TO SUSPECT THAT HE KNEW MORE ABOUT THE MATTER THAN HE CHOSE TO TELL.

     "THE OLD COUNTRY WIVES, HOWEVER, WHO ARE THE BEST JUDGES OF THESE MATTERS, MAINTAIN TO THIS DAY, THAT ICHABOD WAS SPIRITED AWAY BY SUPERNATURAL MEANS; AND IT IS A FAVORITE STORY OFTEN TOLD ABOUT THE NEIGHBORHOOD ROUND THE WINTER EVENING FIRE. THE BRIDGE BECAME MORE THAN EVER AN OBJECT OF SUPERSTITIOUS AWE; AND THAT MAY BE THE REASON WHY THE ROAD HAS BEEN ALTERED OF LATE YEARS, SO AS TO APPROACH THE CHURCH BY THE BORDER OF THE MILL POND. THE SCHOOL HOUSE BEING DESERTED, SOON FELL TO DECAY, AND WAS REPORTED TO BE HAUNTED BY THE GHOST OF THE UNFORTUNATE PEDAGOGUE; AND THE PLOUGH-BOY, LOITERING HOMEWARD OF A STILL SUMMER EVENING, HAS OFTEN FANCIED HIS VOICE AT A DISTANCE, CHANTING A MELANCHOLY PSALM TUNE, AMONG THE TRANQUIL SOLITUDES OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."

     I HOPE ONE DAY, IN THE NOT TOO DISTANT FUTURE, THAT THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, WILL FIND REASON, AND INITIATIVE, TO ENGAGE THEMSELVES IN THE PROVENANCE OF WHICH THEY ARE ENTITLED. THANKS FOR JOINING TODAY'S BLOG.  AND HAPPY HALLOWEEN, IN KEEPING WITH THE SITUATION.

Legend of Sleepy Hollow Part 2

 "AS ICHABOD APPROACHED THIS FEARFUL (TULIP) TREE, HE BEGAN TO WHISTLE; HE THOUGHT HIS WHISTLE WAS ANSWERED; IT WAS BUT A BLAST SWEEPING SHARPLY THROUGH THE DRY BRANCHES. AS HE APPROACHED A LITTLE NEARER, HE THOUGHT HE SAW SOMETHING WHITE HANGING IN THE MIDST OF THE TREE; HE PAUSED, AND CEASED WHISTLING; BUT ON LOOKING MORE NARROWLY, PERCEIVED THAT IT WAS A PLACE WHERE THE TREE HAD BEEN SCATHED BY LIGHTNING, AND THE WHITE WOOD LAID BARE. SUDDENLY HE HEARD A GROAN - HIS TEETH CHATTERED AND HIS KNEES SMOTE AGAINST THE SADDLE; IT WAS BUT THE RUBBING OF SOME HUGE BOUGH UPON ANOTHER, AS THEY WERE SWAYED ABOUT BY THE BREEZE. HE PASSED THE TREE IN SAFETY, BUT NEW PERILS LAY BEFORE HIM," WROTE WASHINGTON IN "THE SKETCH BOOK," PUBLISHED IN 1819; THE STORY OF COURSE, IS "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."

    THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO, WAS NAMED OUT OF RESPECT FOR WASHINGTON IRVING'S SECOND BOOK OF SKETCHES, IN THE 1820'S, KNOWN THEN AS "BRACEBRIDGE HALL." IT WAS IN 1864 THAT CANADIAN POSTAL OFFICIAL, WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR, NAMED THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE, ONTARIO, AFTER IRVING'S INTERNATIONALLY RESPECTED BOOK. IF YOU MISSED THE FIRST TWO COLUMNS IN THIS SHORT SERIES, YOU CAN ARCHIVE BACK TO MONDAY'S BLOG. BEING NAMED AFTER THE WORK OF WASHINGTON IRVING, WAS INTENDED BY LESUEUR, TO BE A MEMORIAL HONOR TO THE AMERICAN WRITER, WHO HAD DIED SOME YEARS EARLIER. IT WAS LIKELY THAT NEW RELEASES OF HIS BOOKS, AFTER HIS DEATH, WOUND UP ON LESUEUR'S DESK, AS ONE OF OUR COUNTRY'S UP AND COMING LITERARY CRITICS. WHEN ASSOCIATE HISTORIANS, IN THE PAST, HAVE WRITTEN THAT "HE NAMED BRACEBRIDGE AFTER THE TITLE OF A BOOK HE WAS READING AT THE TIME," THEY OF COURSE, WERE CORRECT TO ASSUME THIS.....BUT THEY FAILED TO EXPLAIN WHY. LESUEUR WENT ON TO BECOME WELL KNOWN AS A LITERARY CRITIC, WITH REVIEWS PUBLISHED IN SOME OF THE MOST INFLUENTIAL PERIODICALS IN NORTH AMERICA; WHILE AT THE SAME TIME, DUTIFULLY BECOMING A SIGNIFICANT CANADIAN HISTORIAN. HIS DAY JOB, IN PART, INVOLVED NAMING HAMLET POST OFFICES THROUGHOUT CANADA.

     THE TOWN OF BRACEBRIDGE HAS KNOWN FOR LONG AND LONG, ABOUT THIS IMPORTANT LITERARY CONNECTION, BUT HAS GENERALLY SHOWN LITTLE INTEREST IN DEVELOPING THE CONNECTION MORE FULLY. THIS I OFFERED THEM AT THE TURN OF THE NEW CENTURY, AS A LINK BETWEEN THE TOWN, AND THE IRVING MUSEUM, AT SUNNYSIDE, IN NEW YORK; SOMETHING I HAD ARRANGED PERSONALLY, AND AS AN EXTRA MEASURE, EVEN WROTE A SMALL BOOK ABOUT THE EXCITING, UNDER-UTILIZED RELATIONSHIP. THIS DIDN'T EXCITE THEM EITHER. OUR FAMILY EVEN WENT TO THE EXTENT OF HAVING A SMALL MUSEUM QUALITY EXHIBIT, OF WASHINGTON IRVING - WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR MATERIALS, (VISUALS) AVAILABLE FOR VIEWING, IN THE AUDITORIUM OF THE BRACEBRIDGE UNITED CHURCH....AT CHRISTMAS, AS A BOLSTER TO THE IDEA OF PROMOTING "BRACERBRIDGE HALL." THERE IS AN OUTSTANDING REFERENCE TO CHRISTMAS CELEBRATIONS, AT BRACEBRIDGE HALL, CONTAINED IN THIS BOOK, OF WHICH THE TOWN HAD THE RIGHTS OF PROVENANCE, TO FULLY EXPLOIT THE CONNECTION TO ONE OF THE WORLD'S BEST KNOWN AUTHORS. THERE HAVE BEEN BRACEBRIDGE HALL DINNERS IN THE PAST, BUT NOTHING THAT WOULD CONSTITUTE THE SEEDING OF A TRADITION. I THINK THIS HAS BEEN A TERRIBLE MISSED OPPORTUNITY, AND I REFLECT THIS EDITORIALLY WHENEVER I'M AFFORDED AN OPPORTUNITY.

     AS FOR "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW," IT WOULD BE A WONDERFUL OPPORTUNITY FOR THE BRACEBRIDGE BUSINESS COMMUNITY, AND AREA PUBLIC SCHOOLS, TO HAVE ADOPTED A WEEK LONG HALLOWEEN FESTIVAL, HONORING THE AUTHOR OF ONE OF THE BEST KNOWN STORIES OF THE PARANORMAL EVER WRITTEN......AND CELEBRATE THE PROVENANCE THEY WERE GIVEN BY ONE OF CANADA'S LEADING LITERARY REVIEWERS OF THE TIME. BUT JUST BECAUSE IT HASN'T BEEN EMBRACED, DOESN'T STOP A BLOGGER LIKE ME, FROM PRESENTING THE STORY, ABRIDGED AS IT MUST BE, FOR PURPOSES OF THIS BLOG. IT'S FOR READERS WHO LOVE OUR MUSKOKA LIFESTYLE STRAIGHT-UP......HISTORY ENJOYED FOR WHAT IT HAS BEEN, AND WHAT IT HAS MEANT EVER SINCE. I STILL REGRET THAT WILLIAM DAWSON LESUEUR HADN'T INCLUDED A WEE NOTE, BACK TO THE TOWN, IN AUGUST 1864, EXPLAINING WHY HE FELT THIS MEMORIAL TRIBUTE, WAS IMPORTANT TO THE FLEDGLING TOWN, BUILT ON THE EMBANKMENT OF THE MUSKOKA RIVER. BOY OH BOY, WOULD THAT HAVE BEEN EASIER TO WORK WITH, THAN THE COLD SELL TODAY.

     "ABOUT TWO HUNDRED YARDS FROM THE TREE, A SMALL BROOK CROSSED THE ROAD, AND RAN INTO A MARSHY AND THICKLY-WOODED GLEN, KNOWN BY THE NAME 'WILEY'S SWAMP'. A FEW ROUGH LOGS, LAID SIDE BY SIDE, SERVED FOR A BRIDGE OVER THIS STREAM. ON THAT SIDE OF THE ROAD WHERE THE BROOK ENTERED THE WOOD, A GROUP OF OAKS AND CHESTNUTS MATTED THICK WITH WILD GRAPE-VINES, THREW A CAVERNOUS GLOOM OVER IT. TO PASS THIS BRIDGE, WAS THE SEVERIST TRIAL. IT WAS AT THIS IDENTICAL SPOT THAT THE UNFORTUNATE (MAJOR) ANDRE WAS CAPTURED, AND UNDER THE COVERT OF THOSE CHESTNUTS AND VINES WERE THE STURDY YEOMEN CONCEALED WHO SURPRISED HIM. THIS HAS EVER SINCE BEEN CONSIDERED A HAUNTED STREAM, AND FEARFUL ARE THE FEELINGS OF A SCHOOL-BOY, WHO HAS TO PASS IT ALONE AFTER DARK," WROTE IRVING.

     "AS HE APPROACHED THE STREAM HIS HEART BEGAN TO THUMP; HE SUMMONED UP, HOWEVER, ALL HIS RESOLUTION, GAVE HIS HORSE HALF A SCORE OF KICKS IN THE RIBS, AND ATTEMPTED TO DASH BRISKLY ACROSS THE BRIDGE; BUT INSTEAD OF STARTING FORWARD, THE PERVERSE OLD ANIMAL MADE A LATERAL MOVEMENT, AND RAN BROADSIDE AGAINST THE FENCE. ICHABOD, WHOSE FEARS INCREASED WITH THE DELAY, JERKED THE REINS ON THE OTHER SIDE, AND KICKED LUSTILY WITH THE CONTRARY FOOT; IT WAS ALL IN VAIN; HIS STEED STARTED, IT IS TRUE, BUT IT WAS ONLY TO PLUNGE TO THE OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE ROAD INTO A THICKET OF BRAMBLES AND ALDER-BUSHES. THE SCHOOLMASTER NOW BESTOWED BOTH WHIP AND HEEL UPON THE STARVELING RIBS OF OLD GUNPOWDER, WHO DASHED FORWARDS, SNUFLING AND SNORTING, BUT CAME TO A STAND JUST BY THE BRIDGE, WITH A SUDDENNESS THAT HAD NEARLY SENT HIS RIDER SPRAWLING OVER HIS HEAD. JUST AT THIS MOMENT A PLASH TRAMP BY THE SIDE OF THE BRIDGE, CAUGHT THE SENSITIVE EAR OF ICHABOD. IN THE DARK SHADOW OF THE GROVE, ON THE MARGIN OF THE BROOK, HE BEHELD SOMETHING HUGE, MISSHAPEN, BLACK AND TOWERING. IT STIRRED NOT, BUT SEEMED GATHERED UP IN THE GLOOM LIKE SOME GIGANTIC MONSTER READY TO SPRING UPON THE TRAVELLER."

     THE SKETCH BOOK ACCOUNT, OF ICABOD'S FATEFUL NIGHT, CONTINUES: "THE HAIR OF THE AFFRIGHTED PEDAGOGUE ROSE UPON HIS HEAD WITH TERROR. WHAT WAS TO BE DONE? TO TURN AND FLY WAS NOW TOO LATE; AND BESIDES, WHAT CHANCE WAS THERE OF ESCAPING GHOST OR GOBLIN, IF SUCH IT WAS, WHICH COULD RIDE UPON THE WINGS OF THE WIND? SUMMONING UP, THEREFORE, A SHOW OF COURAGE, HE DEMANDED IN STAMMERING ACCENTS, 'WHO ARE YOU?' HE RECEIVED NO REPLY. HE REPEATED HIS DEMAND IN A STILL MORE AGITATED VOICE. STILL THERE WAS NO ANSWER. ONCE MORE HE CUDGELLED THE SIDES OF THE INFLEXIBLE GUNPOWDER, AND SHUTTING HIS EYES, BROKE FORTH WITH INVOLUNTARY FERVOUR, INTO A PSALM TUNE. JUST THEN THE SHADOWY OBJECT OF ALARM PUT ITSELF IN MOTION, AND WITH A SCRAMBLE AND A BOUND, STOOD AT ONCE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. THOUGH THE NIGHT WAS DARK AND DISMAL, YET THE FORM OF THE UNKNOWN MIGHT NOW IN SOME DEGREE, BE ASCERTAINED. HE APPEARED TO BE A HORSEMAN OF LARGE DIMENSIONS AND MOUNTED ON A BLACK HORSE OF POWERFUL FRAME. HE MADE NO OFFER OF MOLESTATION OR SOCIABILITY, BUT KEPT ALOOF ON ONE SIDE OF THE ROAD, JOGGING ALONG ON THE BLIND SIDE OF OLD GUNPOWDER, WHO HAD NOW GOT OVER HIS FRIGHT AND WAYWARDNESS."

     EVERY ONE OF US, AT SOME POINT IN OUR LIFE'S JOURNEY, HAS FOUND OURSELVES IN A SIMILARLY UNSETTLING SITUATION, AS THE GOOD MR. CRANE. MAYBE WE HAVE COME UPON SOMETHING WE MIGHT HAVE BELIEVED TO BE AN APPARITION, HOVERING IN A DOORWAY; OR WITNESSED WHAT APPEARED TO BE A VICTORIAN WOMAN, WALKING  THROUGH A LOCAL CEMETERY, SUDDENLY VANISHING INTO THIN AIR, UPON YOUR APPROACH.....SUCH THAT ONE QUESTIONS THE SENSES. MAYBE IT WAS THE CASE WE WERE FRIGHTENED, WHILE ON A PASSIVE COUNTRYSIDE HIKE, WHEN WE HEARD AN ANIMAL THRASHING IN THE UNDERBRUSH, FEARING THAT A BEAR MIGHT BE FLEXING FOR AN ATTACK. THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE NIGHT, UNSETTLE THE NERVES, AND ENGAGE OUR IMAGINATIONS.

     I WAS IN SUCH A SITUATION ONCE, WHEN ON MY WAY HOME, ON A MIDNIGHT HIKE, TO A COTTAGE LOCATED ON THE EXTENSION OF BEAUMONT DRIVE, IN BRACEBRIDGE, I WAS STOPPED AT THE INTERSECTION TO KIRBY'S BEACH, BY THE STRANGE APPEARANCE OF A WOLF. ONLY ONE THANKFULLY. I HAD NO WEAPON TO THWART AN ATTACK EXCEPT MY BARE HANDS. THERE WERE NO NEARBY RESIDENCES TO SEEK ASSISTANCE, AND YELLING WOULD HAVE SERVED LITTLE PURPOSE, AT THAT POINT, OTHER THAN TO POSSIBLY, BUT NOT LIKELY, SCARE OFF THE LONE WOLF. THERE WAS ENOUGH MOONLIGHT, TO SEE THE ANIMAL CLEARLY, STANDING IN MY WAY. IT GROWLED, BARED ITS TEETCH, AND BEGAN TO MOVE AROUND ME, BUT NEVER TRIED TO CLOSE THE DISTANCE BETWEEN US. I MOVED IN THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION, SO THAT I EVENTUALLY GAINED OPEN ROAD TO THE BEAUMONT FARM, LESS THAN HALF A KILOMETRE WEST. THE WOLF, OF SUBSTANTIAL SIZE AND WEIGHT, NEVER TOOK ITS EYES OFF ME, AND I NEVER LOST MY PERSPECTIVE EITHER. AFTER A MINUTE OR SO OF SHIFTING LOCATIONS, THE WOLF STOOD WHERE I HAD BEGUN THE SHOWDOWN, AND I WAS NOW UNOBSTRUCTED ON MY ESCAPE ROUTE. I KNEW IT WAS POINTLESS TO ATTEMPT TO OUTRUN THE WOLF, SO I JUST CONTINUED TO ACT INDIFFERENT, SHOWING NO SIGNS OF FEAR. I WAS SCARED TO DEATH HOWEVER, BECAUSE I WAS SURE OTHER WOLVES WERE IN THE VICINITY. WE STOOD STARING EYE TO EYE, AND WITHOUT WARNING, THE ANIMAL MADE WHAT APPEARED TO BE A LUNGE FORWARD, SENDING ME BACK, AND THEN IN THE SAME SUCCESSION OF MOVEMENTS, TURNED AWAY ALMOST AS IF IT HAD BEEN SCARED AWAY BY SOMETHING ELSE. POSSIBLY MY GUARDIAN ANGEL THWACKED IT ON THE END OF ITS NOSE. I DON'T KNOW, BUT I RAN ALL THE WAY HOME AFTER THAT ENCOUNTER. SO HOW ABOUT YOU? DO REMEMBER TIMES WHEN, ALL OF A SUDDEN, YOUR SENSE OF SECURITY AND NORMALCY WAS SHATTERED, BY SOME UNEXPECTED, UNEXPLAINED INTERVENTION....BENIGN OR OF SOME PARANORMAL QUALITY, NEVER FULLY EXPLAINED? MOST CAN BE EXPLAINED. SOME REMAIN LIFE-LONG MYSTERIES.

     "ICHABOD, WHO HAD NO RELISH FOR THIS STRANGE MIDNIGHT COMPANION, AND BETHOUGHT HIMSELF OF THE ADVENTURE OF BROM BONES, WITH THE GALLOPING HESSIAN, NOW QUICKENED HIS STEED IN HOPES OF LEAVING HIM BEHIND." WRITES IRVING OF MR. CRANE'S EXIT FROM WHAT HE BELIEVED WAS IMMINENT PERIL. "THE STRANGER HOWEVER, QUIKENED HIS HORSE TO AN EQUAL PACE. ICHABOD PULLED UP, AND FELL INTO A WALK, THINKING TO LAG BEHIND - THE OTHER DID THE SAME. HIS HEART BEGAN TO SINK WITHIN HIM; HE ENDEAVOURED TO RESUME HIS PSALM TUNE, BUT HIS PARCHED TONGUE CLOVE TO THE ROOF OF HIS MOUTH, AND HE COULD NOT UTTER A STAVE. THERE WAS SOMETHING IN THE MOODY AND DOGGED SILENCE OF HIS PERTINACIOUS COMPANION THAT WAS MYSTERIOUS, AND APPALLING. IT WAS SOON FEARFULLY ACCOUNTED FOR. ON MOUNTING A RISING GROUND WHICH BROUGHT THE FIGURE OF HIS FELLOW-TRAVELLER IN RELIEF AGAINST THE SKY, GIGANTIC IN HEIGHT, AND MUFFLED IN A CLOAK. ICHABOD WAS HORROR-STRUCK, ON PERCEIVING THAT HE WAS HEADLESS, BUT HIS HORROR WAS STILL MORE INCREASED, ON OBSERVING THE HEAD, WHICH SHOULD HAVE RESTED ON HIS SHOULDERS, WAS CARRIED BEFORE HIM ON THE POMMEL OF HIS SADLE! HIS TERROR ROSE TO DESPARATION; HE RAINED A SHOWER OF KICKS AND BLOWS UPON GUNPOWDER, HOPING, BY A SUDDEN MOVEMENT, TO GIVE HIS COMPANION THE SLIP - BUT THE SPECTRE STARTED A FULL JUMP WITH HIM. AWAY, THEN, THEY DASHED THROUGH THICK AND THIN; STONES FLYING AND SPARKS FLASHING AT EVERY BOUND. ICHABOD'S FLIMSY GARMENTS FLUTTERED OVER HIS HORSE'S HEAD, IN THE EAGERNESS OF HIS FLIGHT.

    "THEY HAD NOW REACHED THE ROAD WHICH TURNS OFF TO SLEEPY HOLLOW; BUT GUNPOWDER, WHO SEEMED POSSESSED WITH A DEMON, INSTEAD OF KEEPING UP,  MADE AN OPPOSITE TURN, AND PLUNGED HEADLONG DOWN HILL TO THE LEFT. THIS ROAD LEADS THROUGH A SANDY HOLLOW, SHADED BY TREES FOR ABOUT A QUARTER OF A MILE, WHERE IT CROSSES THE BRIDGE FAMOUS IN GOBLIN STORY; AND JUST BEYOND THE SWELL, THE GREEN KNOLL, ON WHICH STANDS THE WHITEWASHED CHURCH.

     "AS YET THE PANIC OF THE STEED HAD GIVEN HIS UNSKILLFUL RIDER AN APPARENT ADVANTAGE IN THE CHASE; BUT JUST AS HE HAD GOT HALFWAY THROUGH THE HOLLOW, THE GIRTHS OF THE SADDLE GAVE WAY, AND HE FELT IT SLIPPING FROM UNDER HIM. HE SEIZED IT BY THE POMMEL AND ENDEAVOURED TO HOLD IT FIRM, BUT IN VAIN; AND HAD JUST TIME TO SAVE HIMSELF BY CLASPING OLD GUNPOWDER ROUND THE NECK, WHEN THE SADDLE FELL TO THE EARTH, AND HE HEARD IT TRAMPLED UNDER FOOT BY HIS PURSUER. FOR A MOMENT OF TERROR OF HANS VAN RIPPER'S WRATH, PASSED ACROSS HIS MIND - FOR IT WAS HIS SUNDAY SADDLE; BUT THIS WAS NO TIME FOR PETTY FEARS; THE GOBLIN WAS HARD ON HIS HAUNCHES; AND UNSKILLED RIDER THAT HE WAS, HE HAD MUCH ADO TO MAINTAIN HIS SEAT; SOMETIMES SLIPPING ON ONE SIDE, SOMETIMES TO ANOTHER, AND SOMETIMES, JOLTED ON THE HIGH RIDGE OF HIS HORSE'S BACKBONE, WITH A VIOLENCE THAT HE VERILY FEARED WOULD CLEAVE HIM ASUNDER."

     PLEASE REJOIN THE STORY OF ICHABOD CRANE, AND HIS TERROR-FILLED RIDE FROM THE MENACE OF THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN, IN TOMORROW'S PART THREE OF "THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW."