The Blue Cat of Castle Town
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Straight to the barn he went and brought in the yellow kittens one at a time and placed them on the striped rug on the hearth. The barn kittens were pretty big by now, and a load, but the blue cat managed.
Plain as plain his mew said to Zeruah, “Put them in the carpet too. They are remarkable kittens. Or so their mother thinks!”
So Zeruah did.
And the barn cat was pleased. “Only a blue cat,” she said, “would have recognized how remarkable those kittens really are.”
The blue cat held his peace, as a gentleman and a blue cat should.
But the story of the carpet, which Zeruah was making, spread through the town. And report of the pictures of the blue cat and the yellow kittens spread likewise.
“Spitting likenesses, I tell you!”
The curious from Castle Town came to see this wonder. And when they saw the neat house which Zeruah kept, and the beauty of the carpet growing beneath her fingers, to say nothing of the bright happiness of the girl’s face, those who came envied her. And they, too, wanted to do something with their hands.
Zeruah helped them plan things they could make, beautiful things. Some were simple like pot-holders and knitted lace and canes with curious handles. And some were difficult like coverlets and bedspreads, gardens and carvings over lintels and fireplaces. Some brought flowers or shells to Zeruah, hoping she could use them in her embroidering. The oldest man in town suggested that she look at the snowflakes. And he was pleased when he saw her putting one of these in her work. Even two lonely Indian students, who had been sent to study at the medical school in that town, drew designs for Zeruah’s carpet — and added their initials. Somehow Zeurah managed to make people feel that the carpet she was fashioning belonged to them as well as to its maker.
Many marveled at the beauty of the girl Zeruah when she planned their tasks with them. Everyone forgot that once the girl had been thought plain. And, as for friendliness, where, the people of Castle Town would demand, could you find so friendly a person, and one with so great patience? And above all so cheerful. Why, she fairly radiated happiness!
As for the blue cat, during that year he spent most of his time in the different houses of Castle Town. And he sang and sang to everyone who would listen.
So that undoubtedly the blue cat’s song had much to do with what happened. Though many spoke of the pulpit of Thomas Dake and of the influence they felt in the church — “peace as of pine trees and beauty as of cherry blossoms.”
That year, too, nearly everyone drank tea from Ebenezer Southmayd’s beautiful teapot or ate from the picture cloths of John Gilroy.
Less and less did folk speak of gold and power. And more and more they talked of beauty and peace and content. So that the spell of Arunah was pushed back and back until it disappeared beyond Bird Mountain, or was lost in the waters of Lake Bombazine. Instead, a brightness shone all through the valley, a brightness which was both glory and blessing from one end of Castle Town to the other.
When the blue cat was certain that the enchantment was as strong as he and the river’s song could make it, he came back the main road, up the winding lane to Zeruah. The door was open and Zeruah herself was standing there to greet him.
“I knew you would come, blue cat,” she said. “See, I have fashioned a hearth rug just for you. There you may lie as long as you live and sing your own song.”
The blue cat entered, waving his tail. And as he looked up at Zeruah to purr his thanks he was astonished to see how beautiful she was. No wonder all Castle Town loved her.
So the blue cat — without a single black hair on him — curled himself down on the hearth rug and gazed about. It was a beautiful room to return to. He saw himself pictured on the carpet spread now on the floor. Not a beautiful cat perhaps, but one with character, he hoped. He saw the kittens of the barn cat there — really quite nice kittens at that. They would — the three of them — be on that carpet forever.
He thought of the quest he had finished, the task completed. And he stretched himself gratefully from tail to paws to eartips. He had sung the song of the river and the spell of that song lay over the valley.
CHAPTER NINE
THE BRIGHT ENCHANTMENT
CASTLE TOWN is enchanted. Even as it was when the settlers came, bringing beauty and peace and content through the wilderness, so it is today.
The pride of Castle Town is in the pulpit in its church, which is the most beautiful pulpit in Vermont, and in the houses, porticoes, archways, and stairways which Thomas Royal Dake, the carpenter — the artist of yesterday — fashioned. Upon the whole town this man has set his touchmark as surely as Ebenezer Southmayd ever set his upon pewter.
The stranger, passing through, drives more and more slowly, until he stops and says: “There is a spell upon this place!”
Once a year the doors of the homes of Castle Town are opened, and all the beautiful treasures, which the song of the blue cat caused to be fashioned, are shown to strangers who come from far and wide to see them, and to hear the story of Castle Town.
Two things the visitors do not see. One is the teapot of Ebenezer Southmayd. Folk still speak of it, but no one knows what has happened to it, or where it may be hidden. The second treasure that is missing is the carpet which Zeruah Guernsey fashioned. For that carpet, together with the hearth rug of the blue cat, hangs in the Metropolitan Museum of the City of New York.
If you doubt this story, you can go and see for yourself. In the daytime the blue cat will give you stare for stare. But at night, when the Museum is quite empty and a blue moon shines through the windows, then the blue cat’s song may be heard echoing down every corridor.
Did not the river say he should live forever?
Arunah?
Scarce a soul remembers him. For his spell over Castle Town was completely vanquished, even as the river had hoped. Though, as the river had likewise promised, Arunah died to the tune of his own song of speed — crushed beneath the wheels of a train. Even today the sound of the train whistle through the valley is a sound to chill one’s bones. It is all that remains of the dark enchantment.
As for the river which flows through the valley, go and sit beside it. And if you should hear it suddenly begin to sing its song, turn quickly. There in the reeds for an instant — if you are quick enough — you will see a small blue shadow. For of course it is hardly to be expected that the blue cat — who was no ordinary cat — stays in the Metropolitan all the time!
Sing your own song. Sing well! Sing well!
HOW THE BLUE CAT OF CASTLE TOWN CAME TO BE WRITTEN
THE people of Castleto’n sing their own song to this day.
Not long ago reports reached Washington that on Grandpa’s Knob, a high point above this Vermont town, what looked like a giant windmill turned great arms in the sun. It was said that this was a wind turbine, which was seeking to use the wind to generate electricity. So, in the summer of 1946, Catherine Coblentz went to Castleto’n with her husband, who was interested in seeing this experiment.
There at a church supper, Hulda Cole, the village librarian, told her that Castleto’n was noted as the site from which Ethan Allen set out to take Fort Ticonderoga, and that the town was justly proud of two of its early citizens. One was the carpenter who built there the most beautiful church pulpit in Vermont, as well as many of the town’s beautiful houses. The second was a girl who had designed and fashioned a carpet so beautiful and unusual that it hung now in the Metropolitan Museum of New York. On that carpet, among other designs, was pictured a most fascinating blue cat.
“Why a blue cat?” inquired Mrs. Coblentz. But no one in all the town could say. Although there were those who recalled having heard that, in the days when the carpet lay on the floor of its creator’s parlor, any cat walking into the room for the first time would always stop short, arch his back and spit at the blue cat pictured beneath his nose.
In the winter of 1946 Hulda Cole sent the source material of the town — which had been gathered by Mary Ger
rish Higley and left to Mrs. Cole personally — to Catherine Coblentz in Washington. Its unexpected arrival was so tempting that Mrs. Coblentz studied it carefully, and twice returned to Castleto’n to see and learn more.
Not only was the history fascinating in itself — but the stuff of folklore was there. And so the author has handled it in this book. For a year and a half, she insists, the Blue Cat sat on her pillow night after night, trying to purr his story into her not-unwilling ears. Being a Vermonter by birth, Mrs. Coblentz was prepared to evaluate highly the spell which even to this day lies over this Vermont valley town. Every person mentioned in the book actually lived in the town, and did the things of which this book tells, and the names are the real names of those individuals of yesterday.
Or, to sum it up. Every word in the book is true, and there isn’t a word of truth in it.
Acknowledgments :
To these people of Castleto’n:
Mr. and Mrs. James Burns, Miss Edna Higley, Mrs. Raymond Ransom, Mrs. Custis St. John, Mrs. G. H. Taggart, who were generous with their homes and their knowledge; Mrs. Beatrice St. John Wright, for permission to sketch designs from one of the Gilroy tablecloths, now in her possession.
To Mrs. Harold Brown, and Mrs. Margaret Onion for clarification of some final details; and to Mr. George Hutchins and Mr. Jim Eaton, for help in ascertaining the location of the Mansion House.
To William Rice for making a map of early Castleto’n.
To Lawrence Ward for special assistance.
For reading the manuscript and making helpful suggestions:
Miss Karin Blanchard of New York City; and Herbert Wheaton Congdon of Arlington, an authority on Vermont architecture, and author of Old Vermont Houses.
For pictures and a reproduction of the touchmark of Ebenezer Southmayd:
Ledlie Laughlin, author of Pewter in America, Its Makers and Their Marks.
The interpretations of the characters in this book are derived from the source material, and are, of course, the author’s — and the blue cat’s!
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