CLAUDIA'S CITY HOME.
How beautiful the mansion's throned
Behind its elm tree's screen,
With simple attic cornice crowned
All graceful and serene.
--_Anon_.
Just north of the Capitol park, upon a gentle eminence, within its own
well-shaded and well-cultivated grounds, stood a fine, old, family
mansion that had once been the temporary residence of George Washington.
The house was very large, with many spacious rooms and broad passages
within, and many garden walks and trellised arbors around it.
In front were so many evergreen trees and in the rear was so fine a
conservatory of blooming flowers, that even in the depth, of winter it
seemed like summer there.
The house was so secluded within its many thick trees and high garden
walls that the noise of the city never reached its inmates, though they
were within five minutes' walk of the Capitol and ten minutes' drive of
the President's mansion.
Judge Merlin had been very fortunate in securing for the season this
delightful home, where he could be within easy reach of his official
business and at the same time enjoy the quiet so necessary to his
temperament.
That winter he had been appointed one of the judges of the Supreme Court
of the United States, and it was very desirable to have so pleasant a
dwelling place within such easy reach of the Capitol, where the court
was held. At the head of this house his young daughter had been placed
as its mistress. She had not yet appeared anywhere in public. She was
reserving herself for two events: the arrival of her chaperone and the
first evening reception of the President. Her presence in the city was
not even certainly known beyond her own domestic circle; though a vague
rumor, started no one knew by whom, was afloat, to the effect that Miss
Merlin, the young Maryland heiress and beauty, was expected to come out
in Washington during the current season.
Meanwhile she remained in seclusion in her father's house.
It was to this delightful town house, so like the country in its
isolation, that Ishmael Worth was invited.
It was just at sunrise on Tuesday morning that the old steamer
"Columbia," having Ishmael on board, landed at the Seventh Street wharf,
and the young man, destined some future day to fill a high official
position in the Federal government, took his humble carpetbag in his
hand and entered the Federal city.
Ah! many thousands had entered the National capital before him, and many
more thousands would enter it after him, only to complain of it, to carp
over it, to laugh at it, for its "magnificent distances," its unfinished
buildings, its muddy streets, and its mean dwellings.
But Ishmael entered within its boundaries with feelings of reverence and
affection. It was the City of Washington, the sacred heart of the
nation.
He had heard it called by shallow-brained and short-sighted people a
sublime failure! It was a sublime idea, indeed, he thought, but no
failure! Failure? Why, what did those who called it so expect? Did they
expect that the great capital of the great Republic should spring into
full-grown existence as quickly as a hamlet around a railway station, or
village at a steamboat landing? Great ideas require a long time for
their complete embodiment. And those who sneered at Washington were as
little capable of foreseeing its future as the idlers about the
steamboat wharf were of foretelling the fortunes of the modest-looking
youth, in country clothes, who stood there gazing thoughtfully upon the
city.
"Can you tell me the nearest way to Pennsylvania Avenue?" at length he
asked of a bystander.
"Just set your face to the north and follow your nose for about a mile,
and you'll fetch up to the broadest street as ever you see; and that
will be it," was the answer.
With this simple direction Ishmael went on until he came to the avenue,
which he recognized at once from the description.
The Capitol, throned in majestic grandeur upon the top of its wooded
hill at the eastern extremity of the Avenue, and gleaming white in the
rays of the morning sun, seeming to preside over the whole scene, next
attracted Ishmael's admiration. As his way lay towards it, he had ample
time to contemplate its imposing magnificence and beauty.
As he drew near it, however, he began to throw his eyes around the
surrounding country in search of Judge Merlin's house. He soon
identified it--a large old family mansion, standing in a thick grove of
trees on a hill just north of the Capitol grounds. He turned to the
left, ascended the hill, and soon found himself at the iron gate leading
to the grounds.
Here his old acquaintance, Sam, being on duty as porter, admitted him,
and, taking him by a winding gravel walk that turned and twisted among
groves and parterres, led him up to the house and delivered him into the
charge of a black footman, who was at that early hour engaged in opening
the doors and windows.
He was the same Jim who used to wait on the table at Tanglewood.
"Good-morning, Mr. Ishmael, sir," he said, advancing in a friendly and
respectful manner, to receive the new arrival.
"The judge expected me this morning, Jim?" inquired Ishmael, when he had
returned the greeting of the man.
"Oh, yes, sir; and ordered your room got ready for you. The family aint
down yet, sir; but I can show you your room," said Jim, taking Ishmael's
carpetbag from him, and leading the way upstairs.
They went up three flights of stairs, to a small front room in the third
story, with one window, looking west.
Here Jim sat down the carpetbag, saying:
"It's rather high up, sir; but you see we are expecting Mrs. Middleton
and all her family, and of course the best spare rooms has to be given
up to the ladies. I think you will find everything you could wish for at
hand, sir; but if there should be anything else wanted, you can ring,
and one of the men servants will come up." And with this, Jim bowed and
left the room.
Ishmael looked around upon his new domicile.
It was a very plain room with simple maple furniture, neatly arranged; a
brown woolen carpet on the floor; white dimity curtains at the window;
and a small coal fire in the grate. Yet it was much better than Ishmael
had been accustomed to at home, and besides, the elevated position of
the room, and the outlook from the only window, compensated for all
deficiencies.
Ishmael walked up to this window, put aside the dainty white curtain,
and looked forth: the whole city of Washington, Georgetown, the winding
of the Potomac and Anacostia rivers, Anacostia Island, and the
undulating hills of the Virginia and Maryland shores lay spread like a
vast panorama before him.
As the thicket was a necessity to Judge Merlin's nature, so the widely
extended prospect was a need of Ishmael's spirit; his eyes must travel
when his feet could not.
Feeling perfectly satisfied with his quarters, Ishmael at last left the
window and made his toilet, preparatory to meeting the judge
and--Claudia!
"Oh, beating heart, be still! be still!" he said to himself, as the
anticipation of that latter meeting, with all its disturbing influences,
sent the blood rioting through his veins.
Without being the very least dandyish, Ishmael was still fastidiously
nice in his personal appointments; purity and refinement pervaded his
presence.
He had completed his toilet, and was engaged in lightly brushing some
lint from his black coat, when a knock at his door attracted his
attention.
It was Jim, who had come to announce breakfast and show him the way to
the morning room.
Down the three flights of stairs they went again, and across the central
hall to a front room on the left that looked out upon the winter garden
of evergreen trees. Crimson curtained and crimson carpeted, with a
bright coal fire in the polished steel grate, and a glittering silver
service on the white draped breakfast table, this room had a very
inviting aspect on this frosty December morning.
The judge stood with his back to the fire, and a damp newspaper open in
his hand. Claudia was nowhere visible--a hasty glance around the room
assured Ishmael that she had not yet entered it. Ishmael's movements
were so noiseless that his presence was not observed until he actually
went up to the judge, and, bowing, accosted him with the words:
"I am here according to appointment, Judge Merlin; and hope I find you
well."
"Ah, yes; good-morning! how do you do, Ishmael?" said the judge laying
aside his paper and cordially shaking hands with the youth. "Punctual, I
see. Had a pleasant journey?"
"Thank you, sir; very pleasant," returned Ishmael.
"Feel like setting to work this morning? There is quite an accumulation
of correspondence groaning to be attended to."
"I am ready to enter upon my duties whenever you please, sir."
"All right," said the judge, touching a bell that presently summoned Jim
to his presence.
"Let us have breakfast immediately. Where is Miss Merlin? Let her know
that we are waiting for her."
"'Miss Merlin' is here, papa," said a rich voice at the door.
Ishmael's heart bounded and throbbed, and Claudia entered the breakfast
room.
Such a picture of almost Oriental beauty, luxury, and splendor as she
looked! She wore a morning robe of rich crimson foulard silk, fastened
up the front with garnet buttons, each a spark of fire. The dress was
open at the throat and wrists, revealing glimpses of the delicate
cambric collar and cuffs confined by the purest pearl studs. Her
luxuriant hair was carried away from her snowy temples and drooped in
long, rich, purplish, black ringlets from the back of her stately head.
But her full, dark eyes and oval crimson cheeks and lips glowed with a
fire too vivid for health as she advanced and gave her father the
morning kiss.
"I am glad you have come, my dear! I have been waiting for you!" said
the judge.
"You shall not have to do so another morning, papa,'" she answered.
"Here is Ishmael, Claudia," said her father, directing her attention to
the youth, who had delicately withdrawn into the background; but who, at
the mention of his own name, came forward to pay his respects to the
heiress.
"I am glad to see you, Mr. Worth," she said, extending her hand to him
as he bowed before her; and then quickly detecting a passing shade of
pain in his expressive face, she added, smiling:
"You know we must begin to call you Mr. Worth some time, and there can
be no better time than this, when you make your first appearance in the
city and commence a new career in life."
"I had always hoped to be 'Ishmael' with my friends," he replied.
"'Times change and we change with them,' said one of the wisest of
sages," smiled Claudia.
"And coffee and muffins grow cold by standing; which is more to the
present purpose," laughed Judge Merlin, handing his daughter to her seat
at the head of the table, taking his own at the foot, and pointing his
guest to one at the side.
When all were seated, Claudia poured out the coffee and the breakfast
commenced. But to the discredit of the judge's consistency, it might
have been noticed that, after he had helped his companion to steak,
waffles, and other edibles, he resumed his newspaper; and, regardless
that coffee and muffins grew cold by standing, recommenced reading the
debates in Congress.
At length, when he finished reading and saw that his companions had
finished eating, he swallowed his muffin in two bolts, gulped his coffee
in two draughts, and started up from the table, exclaiming:
"Now, then, Ishmael, if you are ready?"
Ishmael arose, bowed to Claudia, and turned to follow his employer.
The judge led him upstairs to a sort of office or study, immediately
over the breakfast room, having an outlook over the Capitol grounds, and
fitted up with a few book-cases, writing desks, and easy-chairs.
The judge drew a chair to the central table, which was covered with
papers, and motioned Ishmael to take another seat at the same table. As
soon as Ishmael obeyed, Judge Merlin began to initiate him into his new
duties, which, in fact, were so much of the same description with those
in which he had been engaged at Tanglewood, that he very soon understood
and entered upon them.
The first few days of Ishmael's sojourn were very busy ones. There was a
great arrearage of correspondence; and he worked diligently, day and
night, until he had brought up all arrears to the current time.
When this was done, and he had but two mails to attend to in one day,
he found that five hours in the morning and five in the evening sufficed
for the work, and left him ample leisure for the pursuit of his legal
studies, and he devoted himself to them, both by diligent reading and by
regular attendance upon the sessions of the circuit court, where he
watched, listened, and took notes, comparing the latter with the
readings. Of course he could not do all this without reducing his labors
to a perfect system, and he could not constantly adhere to this system
without practicing the severest self-denial. I tell you, young reader of
this story, that in this republic there is no "royal road" to fame and
honor. The way is open to each and all of you; but it is steep and
rugged, yes, and slippery; and you must toil and sweat and watch if you
would reach the summit.
Would you know exactly how Ishmael managed this stage of his toilsome
ascent? I will tell you. He arose at four o'clock those winter mornings,
dressed quickly and went into the judge's study, where he made the fire
himself, because the servants would not be astir for hours; then he sat
down with the pile of letters that had come by the night's mail; he
looked over the judge's hints regarding them, and then went to work and
answered letters or copied documents for four hours, or until the
breakfast bell rung, when he joined Claudia and her father at table.
After breakfast he attended the judge in his study; submitted to his
inspection the morning's work; then took them to the post office, posted
them, brought back the letters that arrived by the morning's mail, and
left them with the judge to be read. This would bring him to about
eleven o'clock, when he went to the City Hall, to watch the proceedings
of the circuit court, making careful notes and comparing them with his
own private readings of law. He returned from the circuit court about
two o'clock; spent the afternoon in answering the letters left for him
by the judge; dined late with the family; took the second lot of letters
to the post office, and returned with those that came by the evening
mail; gave them to the judge for examination, and then went up to his
room to spend the evening in reading law and comparing notes. He allowed
himself no recreation and but little rest. His soul was sustained by
what Balzac calls "the divine patience of genius." And the more he was
enabled to measure himself with other men, the more confidence he
acquired in his own powers. This severe mental labor took away much of
the pain of his "despised love." Ishmael was one to love strongly,
ardently, constantly. But he was not one to drivel over a hopeless
passion. He loved Claudia: how deeply, how purely, how faithfully, all
his future life was destined to prove. And he knew that Claudia loved
him; but that all the prejudices of her rank, her character, and her
education were warring in her bosom against this love. He knew that she
appreciated his personal worth, but scorned his social position. He felt
that she had resolved never, under any circumstances whatever, to marry
him; but he trusted in her honor never to permit her, while loving him,
to marry another. And in the meantime years of toil would pass; he would
achieve greatness; and when the obscurity of his origin should be lost
in the light of his fame, then he would woo and win Miss Merlin!
Such were the young man's dreams, whenever in his busy, crowded, useful
life he gave himself time to dream.
And meanwhile, what was the conduct of the heiress to her presumptuous
lover? Coldly proud, but very respectful. For, mark you this: No one who
was capable of appreciating Ishmael Worth could possibly treat him
otherwise than with respect.