Redemption Falls

by Joseph O'Connor

  The snow proved brief, which brevity was auspicious, for the town could not withstand another proper battering of the concentration it is reported to have suffered at Christmastide. Already there are too many empty dwellings – tumbledown and melancholy; little better than hurley-houses; the population is diminishing by the week.

  Today, as I limped the streets (church bell is clanging, I think it must be midnight), I noted an extraordinary sight: family of immigrants walking the road. Father grunting in the thill-shafts of a dilapidated donkey-cart, their meager hillock of possessions roped on like a pedlar’s junkshop; poor Bridget and a dirty Negro boy drudging along behind, laden like miserable pack-mules. Most striking was the face of the Moses hauling between the shafts. Were he not a prisoner in Virginia, could swear it was none other thanJohn Fintan Duggan , the rebel lieutenant, onetime friend of O’K. Most astounding similarity I ever saw. Truly every man has a double.

  Since reports of very large gold seam discovered near Jacobite Mountain, the diggers have been fleeing like bats from dawn. One must wonder, indeed, as to what can be the future of despondent Redemption, and of many other tin-towns in this Territory. Perhaps something of it could be rescued, were it demolished and built again suitably, employing the grid from the outset, and passable surveying, with sewers, macadam roads, a marketplace, measured lots, and all befitting a civilized settlement. This piecemeal method will not do long; for a town, like a human, must grow from germ to a design, or the defects inhering in the seed destroy it. (House divided, & cetera, & cetera.) But none of these obdu-rate blockheads would listen to such a reasonable proposition. O what matter, I suppose. Let it fall into ashes. Everything will, at the close.

  Hobbled about a while. Intermittent shivers. Ague in the gut went and came. Violent crisis had me discovering an alley but felt better for having uncargoed. At one moment – Christ – thought I saw her in ‘Tone Street’, buying bundles of kindling of a Chinee. Followed like a fool. Almost called out her name. But she turned, and it was not my angel. Considered collaring one of the Negro mudlarks and saying I had a letter for the G’s W; could he enlighten as to where she might be found? But it seemed a little perilous, since I had no such letter, and anyway he would merely direct me to the house. Loitered over an hour but did not see her anywhere. Felt downhearted mood. Very low, and it grew worse. The clear, unruffled composure of despair. Always wrong in poems.

  Thoughts flying like a bird: landing here, flitting there. Could settle in only one tree. Forced myself to take a wash at a cowpokes’ bathhouse, perfect symphony of filth. Grimy tub of hammered tin. Towel threadbare and stinking. Poor homunculus, I think Russian, employed to fetch the water, which was tepid & the color of urine, literally, owing to gold-ore in the mountain (he maintained). Offered to scourge me with tree-branch. Claimed it capital for the blood. Told himnyet . He looked disappointed.

  Met one Calhoun, acting marshal. Would give me the clew to nothing. (Born ‘Colquhoun’ in Ireland. ‘Too hard for Yanks to say.’) Decent, dignified sort, unruffled luster about him; an astuteness that has not panicked. Does many unobtrusive charities, so the townspeople attest. Even the Confederates respect him. One meets his likes in every hamlet of America. When they are men, they humble, make one wish to do better. When they are women, as often, perhaps even usually, one feels life might even have a purpose. How such people came through the War, I think I shall never know. Fortunate: the children of these.

  Returned to hotel at quarter of two. Widow presiding at altar of the desk. Invited me to take a brandy with her in theBüro to assist my recuperation. Said I did not use brandy. Offered me ‘English tea’.

  Talked of the War. Nothing notable. (Claims to have supported Union, though others say she went with the wind.) Knew nothing of the piracy but what had been written in the paper. Had lost no sleep for it. Did not intend to do so. Had not the smallest interest in political questions, she said. (Drowning sailors – a political question?) Continuously apologizing for her English, which in fact was serviceable enough, but it seemed to please her to apologize and receive the usual reassurances, so we played the tennis of bogus courtesies a while, and the tea, although sour, was not vile. Told her one had a smatter of her mother tongue, in fact. Out of practice, of course, but one had had, in that impressionable twilight,ein Kindermädchen , a nanny, of Bohemia. She blazed with delight to hear it. One sensed doors open, as it were. Was sorry for not mentioning Beate previously.

  Stood up on a bench and procured from a sandy shelf a volume of oldVolkslieder or Germanic folk songs, entitledDes Knaben Wunderhorn , or the Youth’s Magic Horn, macabrely illustrated with the customary woodcuts of agricultural-looking persons and other lechers. This tome she had fetched with her from Hamburg in ’53, she confided mournfully. Vati, a compositor, had made up the type. Handsomest man in Westphalia, she alleged. But every woman thinks Papa aMeisterwerk .

  Did one’s best to emit the required grunts of endorsement as one perused her progenitor’smagnum opus . (Crow-black inks, cornucopia margins: the whole, one must own, rigorous and beautiful, but one must be in the whole of one’s humor for such starkness.) Consider,bitte , plate seventy-two. This said with some force and I obeyed. Repugnant troll, thigh-deep in a bog, crossed eyes, hooked beak, gruesome protuberance about his hosiery. Did it remind one of anyone, she asked with possibly a grin. Impertinent slut, one thought. But no, it was not Modo reflected in the parchments. A certain Irishman of some influence in the town? Cruel, but one could indeed recognize the burgermeister to whom she alluded. In the midget’s gnarled paw was a sword.

  Commenced speaking to me ofder irische General in a somewhat sly and sidelong key, a favorite register of his constituents. He was a paradoxical conundrum: she did not concur with his every policy, but had nonetheless to admire hisFestigkeit. Did I know that word?Aber Ja , I said: ‘firmness’. Beate had illustrated it in a most memorable fashion as we blackberried on my seventeenth birthday.

  Had heard, so she said, that I was a former comrade ofder General in the War. Corrected her on this misapprehension. She seemed pleased.

  Was a cold-heartedTeufel , quite ferocious of temper. Had often been overheard scolding his wife. Had driven her away from him, thus ran the rumor.Aber Ja ; she had been here. Did not know where she had gone. Some said to Fort Braintree, others to Freshet Falls or Cleburne; others, back to hellfire where she belonged. Had not been liked in the town. Many airs & graces. Flaunted like a duchess among raggers.

  Der Irishcherhad told his marshals to put it about the settlement that she had gone to avail herself of the healing waters, would return in a little time – but two months had elapsed since a reportedly hurried departure. Please God, (archly), she must be healed by now, of whatever unfortunate ailment had sickened her. Their marriage was a pretense: this was the whisper of the town’s idle tongues. He had wed her for theGeld ; she had been magnetized by his fame. The Governor had fathered bastards in every state of the Union. His wife, God be good to her, was no better.

  Jahis wife was ‘a haff-breed’, everyone knew it. Product of a slave-woman and an overseer. Had been taken, out of charity, into the house of her so-called family, who had passed her off as their own. It was why she and O’Keeffe had never reproduced. Any issue they would parent might be more Ethiop-toned than she – science had proven reliably that such throwbacks happened, often – and her secret would become legible to the world.

  ‘Gracious,’ I said, with what I hope was an unforced smile. ‘Madam’s biology is commensurate with her beauty.’

  I had heard (she said thinly) the speculations, of course. Replied that one knew nothing whatever of them. That was better, she opined. They would affect my opinion of the Governor.Gott behüte that she should stoop to the dissemination of hearsay. All the gold in Yankeedom could not persuade her into gossip. If his wife had set the Governor in the cuckold’s cap, that was nobody’s business to discuss. Oh, I was not aware of these matters? Well, enough, enough. The woman would face her Maker in
the end of all. Those who play the courtesan when their husbands are away at war perforce must give answer in the hereafter.

  Ja sicher,ja sicher ; it was known throughout the Territory. Her behavior, her morals, had beenskandalös . My confidante, the widow, had had it from a reliable authority. There were things about the Governor’s wife too appalling to be spoken; the vilest whore on earth did not deserve such calumnies. When no other accomplice was available to satiate her lusts, she would go about the waterfronts of Manhattan habited in a common woman’s clothing, importuning young soldiers by offering herself cheaply, or gratis, in cases of distress. She was also, misfortunate lady, a slave to the opiates. Alas, it was the gospel truth.

  ‘Surely not,’ I contended, adding, not untruthfully, that one had heard many tributes to the lady in question, indeed paeans to her honor and goodness. Had she not nursed in the War, performed uncountable acts of altruism? (Affordable prostitution not among them.) Did not hundreds of men owe their very lives to her ministry? Was not tittletattle unchristian; the disparagement of the envious? We were all presumed innocent until convicted.

  The widow uttered a hoot at one’s touching naïvety and supplied herself another tincture of brandy. There was a reason why that contaminatrix had volunteered at the hospital. I could imagine what it was. She need not spell it plainly. To make herself appear a saint of high-toned morality rather than the coin-bosomed trollop she was. But an idol of gold could be filled with filthiest poison. (The leopard, its spots, &cetera.) Medicals, a Negro orderly: she had not been selective. Not even the ways of Nature had this vixen respected. She had pursued and steadily seduced an eminent surgeon’s wife: a staunch Christian woman, the most beautiful and devout in New York. Her good husband, on returning home early from his work, had been so shocked by the culmination unfolding in his lady’s private library, the corruptress in recline, skirts unconventionally arranged, being administered the gift of tongues by her genuflected if corsetless convert, that his beard had turned quite gray by morning. The adulteress had plumbed so low – surely I had heard this? – as to deprave one of the wretched patients in her charge.

  One paused in mid-sip. It seemed remarkably unlikely, I ventured.

  On the contrary, it was common knowledge. But let no more be said. The thing was too improper to be discussed beneath a decent roof. A milky young trooper,in Gottes Namen , but a few pained breaths from his grave-cloths. Had truly I never heard what the dogs of the street were barking? Why, if not, it were better; she would not enlighten me further, for to sully a neighbor’s reputation wasverboten by the Commandments. But it was a mercy, she said, that that monstress had quit the town, for there had even been whisperings here. A farmboy at Lake Allen. The gunsmith’s idiot son. Why, the very brat at the Governor’s house would be next of her victims, just the moment he commenced shaving his cheek. The woman was eaten rotten by her jungle appetites. Had it a pulse and wore britches, she must ruin it. But yet, we must always be charitable; must we not? Let the one without sin cast theStein .

  Did not know very much about the child at the house. A boy, she confirmed, and a bad one. Could not remember when he arrived – maybe last Christmas.Ja sicher , last Christmas: out of the storm like a spook. Had heard he was oncemit der Armee des Südens . Did not know if it was true. Did not much care. As to why the General had sheltered him – it was a mystery all insoluble. Who could explain the doings of such a mercurial man? Truth to tell, he was half the timestockbetrunken .

  ‘…?’ I asked.

  ‘Mit wizky. Ze hootch. Die Branntwein.’

  Ah.

  Beate’s tutelage had extended very comprehensively, I smiled; but Germanic terms of inebriation had not been part of it.

  Obviously, she said, she did not object to a man drinking, not even occasionally to excess. But overindulgence, she insisted, should always be in moderation, otherwise it could go too far. (I think that I know what she meant. Anyway, I nodded ardently.) The Governor would get utterlysternhagelvoll , sometimes evensturzbetrunken . At such times, the foulmouthedSäufer could not be approached without trouble. Some took a charitable view, saying: ‘Worte eines Betrunkenen sind die Gedanken des Nüchternen.’ But mein hostess did not think this any adequate excuse for offensive behavior. Did I?

  ‘Indeed not, Ma’am,’ I replied gravely, though somewhat in the dark. But she seemed gratified to be recipient of my solidarity.†

  Inquired of my work. Went over the ground in brief. Seemed touchingly interested, & not at all slow in apprehension. (Kartenzeichner:a cartographer.Eine topographische Übersicht: a survey.) Wished to know in some detail how a map was made, the denotations of the symbols & lines & cet. The chains employed for surveying would be fifteen miles long, each link the size of a hogshead (I said). Then showed her my sextant and she operated it briefly, uttering bleats of quite childlike awe. Turn the lever and you shall lengthen the barrel, I told her. She turned it. It extended. She cooed.

  Ugly wrigglings of ideas bestirred in one’s swamp. Stirred soberly at the coagulation of one’s tea.

  There was a matter, she said – she supposed it a confidential matter – but a matter which she felt our friendship might permit to be aired. It touched upon my project, but was of interest to her, also, as a personage of enterprise in Redemption Falls. A great number of soldiers would be coming into the Territory, she had heard. There would also, she supposed, be officers. They would all of them require accommodation, feeding & watering, and so on. The quarters required by the Officer Corps must be first-rate in every way.

  Natürlich, I agreed. If possible.

  I would be well placed, she supposed, to offer recommendations to the Federal Government as to where such excellent lodgings might be found. What one would doubtless have in mind was a superior establishment, not one of the flophouses or groggeries or glorified slums of which the County could afford a plethora. Naturally I would be compiling a list of possibilities, several of which might fit. She had heard it said in the town (she could not remember by whom) that her own was placed neck and neck with another establishment in my present estimation. She was hoping that it would become firm favorite.

  Ah, I said.

  Aber ja. Aber ja.

  I believe, I said tactfully, that we understand one another.

  The fact that I was assembling no such register I thought were best unmentioned.

  She smiled, rather violently, and looked at me a while. I must own, in a certain light, she is not entirely repugnant to me. A gossip, yes, but who has not gossiped? Malice is but a forgivable pastime of the provincial mind, as superiority is for the cosmopolitan. The north face, to put it politically, will never be her fortune, but the southern latitudes display a not unpleasing range of elevations. Rather suckable Vest Wirginia. Her Appalachian amplitude. Not unpleasant – to have her measure.

  There is something of a bulbous bird, very probably flightless, almost (or quite) extinct – but with the curved nose, heavy eyelids, and prominently molded chin of those whose moral energies are incurably European. A doleful, a melancholy mien this lends, a slack-jawed despondent sagginess. But she is also, importantly, a person of wide experience, possessed of an understanding of the world. They whisper that her widowhood was accomplished with the aid of the Vigilantes; but one has little doubt that the infidel deserved it. He was discovered, so it is attested, drowned in a barrel; gagged by an intimate garment of a pubescent seductee. Hell hath no fury like a hoodwinked frau. They say that she herself nailed the lid.

  She asked if one was lonely, so far away from home. One confirmed that this could occur on occasion. Warbled at me a while about the burthens of duty. Serving the American citizenry, whilst the greatest honor to which one could aspire, was not entirely without its stresses (she had frequently supposed); its frustrations must be many and aggravating.

  Indeed so, one agreed. I had her every sympathy. Some of the gentlemen at her establishment were pleased to have a friend at trying hours. A burden shared was a burden halved. Wo
uld be no difficulty to arrange it. On thehaus , of course.

  Said one wished to be frank: there was the question of one’s appearance. Most ladies would find one a chillying prospect. One was a man of the world, and so on and so forth, had served in the army, & cetera, & cetera, but since sustaining one’s injuries, one had visited no gentlemanly establishment, for feelings of shame and so on. No difficulty arose on that front, she discreetly insisted. Her ladies were selected for their kindliness as much as their pulchritude. AMann was still aMann . He would always be aMann . ‘If you prick us,’ said the widow, ‘do we bleed?’

  Gave me an album of daguerreotypes, the perusal of which she recommended in my quarters. It offered an artistic depiction of every beauty in her charge, she enlightened. Would call on me presently to see if anything bestirred my interest. Most arresting volume. (Rather more than the Youth’s Magic Horn.) Photography, one feels, is an exceeding promising discipline – particularly when practiced by an aesthetician.

  What harm? one felt. Not as if anyone would ever know. Gift horse, & cetera, & cetera.

  Selected a plump prettyFräulein (I suppose for reminiscence). Affable and competent, Wisconsin farmgirl, but the usual gloom after she departed. Cannot have been pleasant for her. Looked at my face in the window. Never pleasant for the girl, but they are ordered to feign. Unmanly really, when one thinks on it any length. Leaves one with less than one had.