SUPPLEMENTARY CREATION. THE PALIMPSEST.
IN patching up this coat from tatters rotten,
Be sure the sable cloth was not forgotten.
And fit, indeed, that moral bridge-contractors
Have place, as well as moral malefactors;
So when these last are forced to fly to cover,
The first “by mediation” bear them over.
Accordingly when cry for more was sounded
The heav’nly manna fell, supply unbounded,
Then rev’rend Pee-Wee, rose, a humble man,
A spindling soldier of the Lord and ’gan,
In gentle murmurs half apologetic:
As if he feared the rude and energetic
Was unbecoming to his sacred station,
Or, dreaded lest a rousing, sound oration,
Might shake the country to its deep foundation
And bring destruction on this glorious nation.
However, being one of slow progression
Still in the A, B, C, of his profession,
Perhaps, ’twas only modest, wise, and prudent,
To step with caution, like a freshman student.
A stripling faded, pale, and neutral-eyed,
Like one in milk-and-water color dyed,
Rocking and swaying on his “feeble knees,”
Like flexile willow bending in the breeze,
He toyed as daintly with mighty themes
As if he handled doubtful eggs in dreams.
So have I seen a pale potato vine
In darksome cellar, tender grow and pine
For want of sunlight, dew, and bracing air;
And naught could e’er the early loss repair,
He, urged by zeal some action to perform
Which might, by marv’lous chance, promote reform;
The pious fame whereof should never cease—
Got softly up to speak his little piece:
With cringing step, profusely bowing too,
Crept carefully, and made this rich “debut.”
“I come, a sinner bowed with sad contrition,
Dear ladies, on my heav’nly master’s mission.
I wish “while yet the lamp holds out to burn”
To do this sinful world a friendly turn.
If you’re not wholly dead to sense and reason,
Perhaps you’ll hear the message spoke in season,
You’ll find recorded in the sacred word
In Genesis, from chapter one to third.
On sacred page much wisdom is discerned
And more inferred, as you’ve already learned.
Read here some secrets of the everlasting;
The rest we draw from heav’n “by prayer and fasting.”
The views with which my soul has so been favored
I’ll now unfold with sundry comments flavored.
When after lengthened ages of debating,
And after all the heavn’ly host were tired of waiting,
Th’ orig’nal plan was reached for man’s creating,
’Twas found before the work had far proceeded,
A rare, peculiar kind of dirt was needed;
No sooner known, than necessary orders
Were issued to the country’s farthest borders.
At once, in all the fields, by all the hovels,
Angels were seen with rocking pans and shovels,
Washing, sifting, like California miners,
In search of requisite amount of shiners.
At last, while in this digging, scratching, scraping,
Vast periods of time had been escaping,
Loud trumpet tones the heavn’ly rafters shaking,
Proclaimed the dough already for the baking.
The baker’s men, without regard to wages,
Had been experimenting all these ages,
With oven hot as ever they could stand in,
To learn the trade, to sort’o get their hand in,
By making beasts, ring-streaked, speck’d and striped
Before they undertook to build a biped.
With mould, and paste, and pepper all collected,
They now began the labor long projected.
The prentice first, a witless kind of flunkey,
A total failure made, and cooked a monkey.
Next him, an older, consequential brother,
In haste quite confident tossed in another,
But found with nothing in the world to hinder
He’d darkey made by burning to a cinder.
The foreman then with losses vexed and “stuffy”
Essayed his practiced hand, in manner “huffy.”
Still he brought out, if I dont tell a “whopper”
His cake in boastful style, done brown as copper.
’Tis true, this batch was overdone but little,
Yet, ruined in the temper, crisp and brittle.
Now, when he saw this shameful waste of batter,
The master thought ’twas time to end the matter.
He scrimped and scraped and gathered ev’ry portion
Lest he should also make a mere abortion.
Had just enough. All heaven was delighted
To see it drawn all smooth and clean and whited.
But when they’d crowned him first of human kings
To rule and govern sublunary things,
It seems they held a supplement’ry meeting
Wherein the project was advanced of now repeating
That process which had just so well succeeded,
And build a partner thought by Adam needed.
They deemed him not precisely in position,
Through accident of sexual condition,
T’ obey that wholesome social regulation
Which contemplates increase of population.
When first announced the notion vastly pleased them,
But soon they found, while blank amazement seized them,
Through heedlessness and lavish waste uncommon,
Not stock enough was left to make a woman.
Ingenious substitutes and plans were tendered
And e’en some jealousy was thus engendered
By their rejection; but of all suggested
Not one succeeded well when fairly tested.
The master thought, since nought could come of planting,
Could he from Adam steal the scion wanting,
(Which might be done by slumber o’er him wafting)
He’d try a kind of independent grafting;
Thus, with good luck, save Adam lots of trouble,
By furnishing, at no expense, his double.
Agreed to—since they could not do without it:
Still, having more or less of pain about it,
The scheme involved some shrewd and crafty trapping;
And that is why they took the good man napping.
Awful slumber! a most expensive lodging,
Creating debt no man succeeds in dodging.
A national debt foredoomed to last forever,
With tax not one evades, tho’ ne’er so clever.
Blind bard! who sweeter sung for want of eyes,
You blundered sadly once, to my surprise:
Sleeping (’tis true, the bible proves it so)
“Brought death into the world and all our woe.”
If aught is taught by Adam’s heavy fall
It teaches man should never sleep at all.
No Eve, no sin, this fearful uproar keeping;
No sin, no death; no death, no mourners weeping;
Had luckless Adam not been captured sleeping
But up and dressed in reasonable season,
It stands to unassisted human reason
No sinful woman would have lived to be
Prolific source of so much misery.
* * * * * * * * * *
Hail, rain, thunder, tempest and hurricane!
Howl and shriek! Split your throats! ye’ll blow in vain
To drown the whirlwind, furious and wild,
That burst, from tongue and eye, on this poor child.
Hags and witches! not such the woful flutter,
In your weird ranks, when mortal chanced to utter
Some magic spell, some scrap of holy writ
That sent you howling to th’ infernal pit.
Such hate unspeakable, such fiery blazes!
Lightning flashes! well-nigh their mem’ry crazes.
Mild inoffensive man! who humbly sought
The truth in singleness to sow, but brought
A bitter, bitter harvesting instead
Of hurtling wrath on his defenseless head;
A simple artless priest, ’twas plain to see
Or else, the heathen that you call “chinee”
His final fate, no chronicles reveal it
He pity left behind, tho’ few to feel it.
And now, in sable garments, slow uprose
A trafficker in apprehended woes,
Who thought to bring the uproar to a close,
By pacifying gesture bland and mild;
And smooth, with oil of grace, this ocean wild.
A goodly morsel of humanity,
Compound of arrogance and vanity.
Possessed of lordly form, imposing mien,
He dwells in conscious sanctity serene,
Amid conceded pow’rs; and seeks to charm
By soothing platitudes, all dread of harm
From souls awakened: and, crying peace, peace,
In pulpit stands a fox protecting geese—
Better, by indications of the jowls,
A heav’nly miller making carnal tolls.
Janus his name, a curiosity
A double faced, a rare monstrosity!
One visage ministers in things divine,
The other serves the devil genuine.
In keeping good his harp of “thousand strings,”
Could all at once discourse a dozen things.
While one with “devil’s dream” kept up a pother,
Old “coronation” rang right off the other;
To aid their cause he’d little inclination;
Yet never could resist the strong temptation
When woman sought his aid to gain salvation.
Of boats he knew—but feared to leave the craft
He paddled now, until the female raft
He saw at hand, could safely upward bear him,
In case his present owners wished to spare him;
Misdoubting lest this willow-wicker scow
A pirate prove, wood-hull and brazen prow,
In consequence by taking middle course
He fired, like breechless gun, with little force.
Quoth he: “Let discord cease! Behold the morn
Leads on the day when woman shall adorn
The dirty caucus—shall the noisy poll
Reduce obedient to her control—
With radiating purity illume
The dark recess where justice sits in gloom—
Shall penetrate unarmed his filthy lair
And tame the democratic grizzly bear;
With slender finger touch his tawny hide
And, Una-like, in triumph mount and ride—
Assume th’ appointed place as heav’nly guide,
And, first in penitence, as first in sin,
The resurrection of the race begin.
Our brother errs—no doubt with best intent;
For, ordination hath such cleansing lent,
To all who have its sprinklings underwent,
(Except to Henry Ward who never needed
Superfluous seal that from the church proceeded.)
To sin “non potest” in its strictest sense,
That is, with actual malice “in prepense.”
Tho’ human frailty may, at times, creep in
And give the merest semblance of a sin.
Yet priests themselves, like all, when myst’ries blind ’em,
Must needs interpret as they chance to find ’em.
To me the sacred word most plainly shows
A moment opportune the Maker chose,
When Adam, plunged in slumber’s deep repose,
Was freest from the carnal thoughts that fill
Our waking hours—as common grafters still
Scions select when winters downward force
The heated saps which through the body course,
For cooling and refining—so the shoot
With pulpy crop less passionate may fruit,
And purity with innocence divine,
Though earthly vase displayed, incarnate shine.
What sacrilegious mortal dare assert
God’s plan abortive? or in pride pervert
His manifest design? Do we not choose
The holiest to rule, the bad refuse?
Some superficial careless hist’ry skimmers
Read otherwise the feeble light that glimmers,
In records old, where rays uncertain play
Like “will-o-wisps” at night, to lead astray
The traveler belated, and pretend
The weak must ever to the mighty bend;
And gravely show, with self-complacent mien,
How in the annals of the world ’tis seen,
Of all the host that ruled by “right divine”
Scarce one in thousands own the female line.
Not so read I. ’Twas ever held, thou fool,
For logic good, “the exception proves the rule”
What rule, but woman’s rule could ever be
Intended by this just corollary?
To him who better logic brings than that is
I’ll freely give my next week sermon gratis.
Moreover who would father, mother leave
Except it were to serve a second Eve?
In truth, from truth we may not distant swerve
To say that cleave in Hebrew means “to serve.”
Nor deem this strange—in theologic lore
Are many things that might surprise you more.
But these are mostly kept for special use
To guard against heretical abuse;
To dazzle vulgar minds with grand display
And keep their curiosity at bay.
You’ll therefore please excuse—but count me one
You’re quite at liberty to lean upon;
And think yourselves most fortunate indeed
If you dont find you lean on broken reed—
For daily is my life this word fulfilling,
“The flesh is weak, and oft the spirit’s willing.”
At this he ceased his sophistries to spin,
His features shining with sardonic grin,
And went his way to other troubled pools
With cunning to bewilder other fools.