David-Swan

FromTwice-ToldTales,,1837,1851ByNathanielHawthorne,1804-1864DavidSwanAFANTASYWECANBEbutpartiallyacquaintedevenwitheventswhichactuallyinfluenceourcoursethroughlife,andourfinaldestiny.Thereareinnumerableotherevents,ifsuchtheymaybecalled,whichcomecloseuponus,yetpassawaywithoutactualresults,orevenbetrayingtheirnearapproach,bythereflectionofanylightorshadowacrossourminds.Couldweknowallthevicissitudesofourfortunes,lifewouldbetoofullofhopeandfear,exultationordisappointment,toaffordusasinglehouroftrueserenity.ThisideamaybeillustratedbyapagefromthesecrethistoryofDavidSwan.WehavenothingtodowithDavid,untilwefindhim,attheageoftwenty,onthehighroadfromhisnativeplacetothecityofBoston,wherehisuncle,asmalldealerinthegroceryline,wastotakehimbehindthecounter.Beitenoughtosay,thathewasanativeofNewHampshire,bornofrespectableparents,andhadreceivedanordinaryschooleducation,withaclassicfinishbyayearatGilmantonacademy.Afterjourneyingonfoot,fromsunrisetillnearlynoonofasummer'sday,hiswearinessandtheincreasingheatdeterminedhimtositdowninthefirstconvenientshade,andawaitthecomingupofthestagecoach.Asifplantedonpurposeforhim,theresoonappearedalittletuftofmaples,withadelightfulrecessinthemidst,andsuchafreshbubblingspring,thatitseemednevertohavesparkledforanywayfarerbutDavidSwan.Virginornot,hekisseditwithhisthirstylips,andthenflunghimselfalongthebrink,pillowinghisheaduponsomeshirtsandapairofpantaloons,tiedupinastripedcottonhandkerchief.Thesunbeamscouldnotreachhim;thedustdidnotyetrisefromtheroad,aftertheheavyrainofyesterday;andhisgrassylairsuitedtheyoungmanbetterthanabedofdown.Thespringmurmureddrowsilybesidehim;thebrancheswaveddreamilyacrossthebluesky,overhead;andadeepsleep,perchancehidingdreamswithinitsdepths,felluponDavidSwan.Butwearetorelateeventswhichhedidnotdreamof.Whilehelaysoundasleepintheshade,otherpeoplewerewideawake,andpassedtoandfro,a-foot,onhorseback,andinallsortsofvehicles,alongthesunnyroadbyhisbedchamber.Somelookedneithertotherighthandnortotheleft,andknewnotthathewasthere;somemerelyglancedthatway,withoutadmittingtheslumbereramongtheirbusythoughts;somelaughedtoseehowsoundlyheslept;andseveral,whoseheartswerebrimmingfullofscorn,ejectedtheirvenomoussuperfluityonDavidSwan.Amiddleagedwidow,whennobodyelsewasnear,thrustherheadalittlewayintotherecess,andvowedthattheyoungfellowlookedcharminginhissleep.Atemperancelecturersawhim,andwroughtpoorDavidintothetextureofhisevening'sdiscourse,asanawfulinstanceofdeaddrunkennessbytheroad-side.But,censure,praise,merriment,scorn,andindifference,wereallone,orratherallnothing,toDavidSwan.Hehadsleptonlyafewmoments,whenabrowncarriage,drawnbyahandsomepairofhorses,bowledeasilyalong,andwasbroughttoastand-still,nearlyinfrontofDavid'srestingplace.Afinchpinhadfallenout,andpermittedoneofthewheelstoslideoff.Thedamagewasslight,andoccasionedmerelyamomentaryalarmtoanelderlymerchantandhiswife,whowerereturningtoBostoninthecarriage.Whilethecoachmanandaservantwerereplacingthewheel,theladyandgentlemanshelteredthemselvesbeneaththemapletrees,andthereespiedthebubblingfountain,andDavidSwanasleepbesideit.Impressedwiththeawewhichthehumblestsleeperusuallyshedsaroundhim,themerchanttrodaslightlyasthegoutwouldallow;andhisspousetookgoodheednottorustlehersilkgown,lestDavidshouldstartup,allofasudden.Howsoundlyhesleeps!whisperedtheoldgentleman.Fromwhatadepthhedrawsthateasybreath!Suchsleepasthat,broughtonwithoutanopiate,wouldbeworthmoretomethanhalfmyincome;foritwouldsupposehealth,andanuntroubledmind.Andyouth,besides,saidthelady.Healthyandquietagedoesnotsleepthus.Ourslumberisnomorelikehis,thanourwakefulness.Thelongertheylooked,themoredidthiselderlycouplefeelinterestedintheunknownyouth,towhomthewaysideandthemapleshadewereasasecretchamber,withtherichgloomofdamaskcurtainsbroodingoverhim.Perceivingthatastraysunbeamglimmereddownuponhisface,theladycontrivedtotwistabranchaside,soastointerceptit.Andhavingdonethislittleactofkindness,shebegantofeellikeamothertohim.Providenceseemstohavelaidhimhere,whisperedshetoherhusband,andtohavebroughtushithertofindhim,afterourdisappointmentinourcousin'sson.MethinksIcanseealikenesstoourdepartedHenry.Shallwewakenhim?Towhatpurpose?saidthemerchant,hesitating.Weknownothingoftheyouth'scharacter.Thatopencountenance!repliedhiswife,inthesamehushedvoice,yetearnestly.Thisinnocentsleep!Whilethesewhisperswerepassing,thesleeper'sheartdidnotthrob,norhisbreathbecomeagitated,norhisfeaturesbetraytheleasttokenofinterest.--YetFortunewasbendingoverhim,justreadytoletfallaburthenofgold.Theoldmerchanthadlosthisonlyson,andhadnoheirtohiswealth,exceptadistantrelative,withwhoseconducthewasdissatisfied.Insuchcases,peoplesometimesdostrangerthingsthantoactthemagician,andawakenayoungmantosplendor,whofellasleepinpoverty.Shallwenotwakenhim?repeatedthelady,persuasively.Thecoachisready,Sir,saidtheservant,behind.Theoldcouplestarted,reddened,andhurriedaway,mutuallywondering,thattheyshouldeverhavedreamedofdoinganythingsoveryridiculous.Themerchantthrewhimselfbackinthecarriage,andoccupiedhismindwiththeplanofamagnificentasylumforunfortunatemenofbusines