From Twice-Told Tales 1837, by Nathaniel Hawthorne, 1804-1864
A Rill from the Town Pump
(SCENE--the corner of two principal streets. The TOWN-PUMP talking through its nose.)
NOON, by the north clock! Noon, by the east! High noon, too, by these hot sunbeams, which fall, scarcely aslope, upon my head, and
almost make the water bubble and smoke, in the trough under my nose. Truly, we public characters have a tough time of it! And, among all the town-officers,
chosen at March meeting, where is he that sustains, for a single year, the burthen of such manifold duties as are imposed, in perpetuity, upon the Town-Pump?
The title of "town-treasurer" is rightfully mine, as guardian of the best treasure, that the town has. The overseers of the poor ought to make me their chairman,
since I provide bountifully for the pauper, without expense to him that pays taxes. I am at the head of the fire-department, and one of the physicians to the board
of health. As a keeper of the peace, all water-drinkers will confess me equal to the constable. I perform some of the duties of the town clerk, by promulgating
public notices, when they are posted on my front. To speak within bounds, I am the chief person of the municipality, and exhibit, moreover, an admirable pattern
to my brother officers, by the cool, steady, upright, downright, and impartial discharge of my business, and the constancy with which I stand to my post. Summer or winter,
nobody seeks me in vain; for, all day long, I am seen at the busiest corner, just above the market, stretching out my arms, to rich and poor alike; and at night, I hold a
lantern over my head, both to show where I am, and keep people out of the gutters.
At this sultry noontide, I am cup-bearer to the parched populace, for whose benefit an iron goblet is chained to my waist. Like a dram-seller on the mall, at muster-day,
I cry aloud to all and sundry, in my plainest accents, and at the very tip-top of my voice. Here it is, gentlemen! Here is the good liquor! Walk up, walk up, gentlemen,
walk up, walk up! Here is the superior stuff! Here is the unadulterated ale of father Adam--better than Cognac, Hollands, Jamaica, strong-beer, or wine of any price; here
it is, by the hogshead or the single glass, and not a cent to pay! Walk up, gentlemen, walk up, and help yourselves!
It were a pity, if all this outcry should draw no customers. Here they come. A hot day, gentlemen! Quaff, and away again, so as to keep yourselves in a nice
cool sweat. You, my friend, will need another cup-full, to wash the dust out of your throat, if it be as thick there as it is on your cowhide shoes. I see that
you have trudged half a score of miles, to day; and, like a wise man, have passed by the taverns, and stopped at the running-brooks and well-curbs. Otherwise, betwixt
heat without and fire within, you would have been burnt to a cinder, or melted down to nothing at all, in the fashion of a jelly-fish. Drink, and make room for that
other fellow, who seeks my aid to quench the fiery fever of last night's potations, which he drained from no cup of mine. Welcome, most rubicund Sir! You and I have
been great strangers, hitherto; nor, to confess the truth, will my nose be anxious for a closer intimacy, till the fumes of your breath be a little less potent.
Mercy on you, man! The water absolutely hisses down your red-hot gullet, and is converted quite to steam, in the miniature tophet, which you mistake for a stomach.
Fill again, and tell me, on the word of an honest toper, you ever, in cellar, tavern, or any kind of a dram-shop, spend the price of your children's food, for a swig
half so delicious? Now, for the first time these ten years, you know the flavor of cold water. Good b'ye; and, whenever you are thirsty, remember that I keep a constant
supply, at the old stand. Who next? Oh, my little friend, you are let loose from school, and come hither to scrub your blooming face, and drown the memory of certain
taps of the fertile, and other school-boy troubles, in a draught from the TownPump. Take it, pure as the current of your young life. Take it, and may your heart and
tongue never be scorched with a fiercer thirst than now! There, my dear child, put down the cup, and yield your place to this elderly gentleman, who treads so tenderly
over the paving-stones, that I suspect he is afraid of breaking them. What! He limps by, without so much as thanking me, as if my hospitable offers were meant only for
people, who have no wine-cellars. Well, well, sir--no harm done, I hope! Go draw the cork, tip the decanter; but, when your great-toe shall set you a-roaring, it will be
no affair of mine. If gentlemen love the pleasant titillation of the gout, it is all one to the Town-Pump. This thirsty dog, with his red tongue lolling out, does not
scorn my hospitality, but stands on his hind-legs, and laps eagerly out of the trough. See how lightly he capers away again! Jowler, did your worship ever have the gout?
Are you all satisfied? Then wipe your mouths, my good friends; and, while my spout has a moment's leisure, I will delight the town with a few historical reminiscences. In far antiquity,
beneath a darksome shadow of venerable boughs, a spring bubbled out of the leaf-strewn earth, in the very spot where you now behold me, on the sunny pavement. The water was as bright
and clear, and deemed as precious, as liquid diamonds. The Indian sagamores drank of it, from time immemorial, till the fatal deluge of the fire-water burst upon the red men, and swept
their whole race away from the cold fountains. Endicott, and his followers, came next, and often knelt down to drink, dipping their long beards in the spring. The richest goblet, then,
was of birch-bark. Governor Winthrop, after a journey afoot from Boston, drank here, out of the hollow of his hand. The elder Higginson here wet his palm, and laid it on the brow of the
first townborn child. For many years, it was the watering-place, and, as it were, the wash-bowl of the vicinity--whither all decent folks resorted, to purify their visages, and gaze at
them afterwards--at least, the pretty maidens did--in the mirror which it made. On Sabbath-days, whenever a babe was to be baptized, the sexton filled his basin here, and placed it on
the communion-table of tile humble meeting-house, which partly covered the site of yonder stately brick one. Thus, one generation after another was consecrated to Heaven by its waters,
and cast their waxing and waning shadows into its glassy bosom, and vanished from the earth, as if mortal life were but a flitting image in a fountain. Finally, the fountain vanished
also. Cellars were dug on all sides; and cart-loads of gravel flung upon its source, whence oozed a turbid stream, forming a mud-puddle, at the corner of two streets. In the hot months,
when its refreshment was most needed, the dust flew in clouds over the forgotten birthplace of the waters, now their grave. But, in the course of time, a Town-Pump was sunk into the
source of the ancient spring; and when the first decayed, another took its place--and then another, and still another--till here stand I, gentlemen and ladies, to serve you with my
iron goblet. Drink, and be refreshed! The water is as pure and cold as that which slaked the thirst of the red sagamore, beneath aged boughs, though now the gem of the wilderness is
treasured under these hot stones, where no shadow falls, but from the brick buildings. And be it the moral of my story, that, as this wasted and long-lost fountain is now known and
prized again, so shall the virtues of cold water, too little valued since your fathers' days, be recognized by all.
Your pardon, good people! I must interrupt my stream of eloquence, and spout forth a stream of water, to replenish the trough for this teamster and his two yoke of oxen, who have come
from Topsfield, or somewhere along that way. No part of my business is pleasanter than the watering of cattle. Look! how rapidly they lower the water-mark on the sides of the trough,
till their capacious stomachs are moistened with a gallon or two apiece, and they can afford time to breathe it in, with sighs of calm enjoyment. Now they roll their quiet eyes around
the brim of their monstrous drinking vessel. An ox is your true toper.
But I perceive, my dear auditors, that you are impatient for the remainder of my discourse. Impute it, I beseech you, to no defect of modesty, if I insist a little longer on so fruitful
a topic as my own multifarious merits. It is altogether for your good. The better you think of me, the better men and women will you find yourselves. I shall say nothing of my all-important
aid on washing-days; though, on that account alone, I might call myself the household-god of a hundred families. Far be it from me, also, to hint, my respectable friends, at the show of dirty
faces, which you would present, without my pains to keep you clean. Nor will I remind you how often, when the midnight-bells make you tremble for your combustible town, you have fled to the
Town-Pump, and found me always at my post, firm, amid the confusion, and ready to drain my vital current in your behalf. Neither is it worth while to lay much stress on my claims to a
medical diploma, as the physician, whose simple rule of practice is preferable to all the nauseous lore, which has found men sick or left them so, since the days of Hippocrates. Let
us take a broader view of my beneficial influence on mankind.
No; these are trifles, compared with the merits which wise men concede to me--if not in my single self, yet as the representative of a class--of being the grand reformer of the age. From my
spout, and such spouts as mine, must flow the stream, that shall cleanse our earth of the vast portion of its crime and anguish, which has gushed from the fiery fountains of the still. In
this mighty enterprise, the cow shall be my great confederate. Milk and water! The TOWNPUMP and the Cow! Such is the glorious copartnership,that shall tear down the distilleries and brew-houses,
uproot the vineyards, shatter the cider-presses, ruin the tea and coffee trade, and, finally monopolize the whole business of quenching thirst. Blessed consummation! Then, Poverty shall pass
away from the land, finding no hovel so wretched, where her squalid form may shelter itself. Then Disease, for lack of other victims, shall gnaw its own heart, and die. Then Sin, if she do not
die, shall lose half her strength. Until now, the phrensy of hereditary fever has raged in the human blood, transmitted from sire to son, and re-kindled, in every generation, by fresh draughts
of liquid flame. When that inward fire shall be extinguished, the heat of passion cannot but grow cool, and war--the drunkenness of nations--perhaps will cease. At least, there will be no war
of households. The husband and wife, drinking deep of peaceful joy--a calm bliss of temperate affections--shall pass hand in hand through life, and lie down, not reluctantly, at its protracted
close. To them, the past will be no turmoil of mad dreams, nor the future an eternity of such moments as follow the delirium of the drunkard. Their dead faces shall express what their spirits
were, and are to be, by a lingering smile of memory and hope.
Ahem! Dry work, this speechifying; especially to an unpractised orator. I never conceived, till now, what toil the temperance-lecturers undergo for my sake. Hereafter, they shall have the
business to themselves. Do, some kind Christian, pump a stroke or two, just to wet my whistle. Thank you, sir! My dear hearers, when the world shall have been regenerated, by my instrumentality,
you will collect your useless vats and liquor-casks, into one great pile, and make a bonfire, in honor of the Town-Pump. And, when I shall have decayed, like my predecessors, then, if you
revere my memory, let a marble fountain, richly sculptured, take my place upon this spot. Such monuments should be erected everywhere, and inscribed with the names of the distinguished
champions of my cause. Now listen; for something very important is to come next.
There are two or three honest friends of mine--and true friends, I know, they are--who, nevertheless, by their fiery pugnacity in my behalf, do put me in fearful hazard of a broken nose,
or even of a total overthrow upon the pavement, and the loss of the treasure which I guard. I pray you, gentlemen, let this fault be amended. Is it decent, think you, to get tipsy with
zeal for temperance, and take up the honorable cause of the Town-Pump, in the style of a toper fighting for his brandy-bottle? Or, can the excellent qualities of cold water be no otherwise
exemplified, than by plunging, slapdash, into hot-water, and wofully scalding yourselves and other people? Trust me, they may. In the moral warfare, which you are to wage--and, indeed,
in the whole conduct of your lives--you cannot choose a better example than myself, who have never permitted the dust, and sultry atmosphere, the turbulence and manifold disquietudes of
the world around me, to reach that deep, calm well of purity, which may be called my soul. And whenever I pour out that soul, it is to cool earth's fever, or cleanse its stains.
One o'clock! Nay, then, if the dinner-bell begins to speak, I may as well hold my peace. Here comes a pretty young girl of my acquaintance, with a large stone-pitcher for me to fill.
May she draw a husband, while drawing her water, as Rachel did of old. Hold out your vessel, my dear! There it is, full to the brim; so now run home, peeping at your sweet image in the
pitcher, as you go; and forget not, in a glass of my own liquor, to drink--"SUCCESS TO THE TOWN PUMP!"