"A soldier may be anything, if brave;
So may a merchant if not quite a knave."
COWPER.
"Trade his delight and hope; and, if alive,
Doubt I have none, that Barnaby will thrive."
CRABBE.
{William Cowper (English poet, 1731-1800), "Hope" lines 201-210.
George Crabbe (English poet, 1754-1832), "Posthumous Tales: VIII
Barnaby; the Shopman" lines II.3-4}
WE have really been very remiss in omitting so long to notice the
rapid strides with which Mr. Pompey Taylor had advanced on the
road to fame and fortune, during the two years in which we have
lost sight of him. He might have addressed, to the reader, the
remark that the Emperor Napoleon applied to his secretary, after
the conquest of Prussia and Austria: "J'ai fait des progres
immenses depuis que Bourienne {sic} m'a quitte!"
{"J'ai fait des..." = I have made immense progress since
Bourienne left me! Louis-Antoine Fauvelet de Bourrienne
(1769-1834) was a French diplomat who served as Napoleon's
private secretary during his invasion of Egypt}
It is a rule, in composition, it was so, at least, when people
wrote by rule, to compare the little with the great. If we were
to follow the direction, it would be easy to prove that these two
individuals, the conqueror, Napoleon, and the speculator, Taylor,
were not too widely separated for many points of resemblance to
be traced between them. Ambition was the ruling passion of both;
and both were alike insatiable. Bonaparte added kingdom to
kingdom; Taylor, house to house; the emperor might believe
himself equal to ruling half the world; the merchant felt capable
of owning the other half. The one raised army after army; the
other fitted out vessel after vessel. The energies of both were
inexhaustible, and both aimed at an ever-receding goal; while
each, in his own way, soon reached a height never dreamed of by
the mothers who rocked their cradles. Nor would it be justice to
Mr. Taylor, to suppose, that the love of money, alone, was the
main-spring of his actions; he, too, was spurred on by the love
of glory; dollars and cents were not the end, with him; he looked
upon his thousands, in gold and paper, as Napoleon did upon his
thousands in flesh and blood--they were but the instruments which
were to open the road to fame. The man of commerce, and the man
of war, were alike lavish of their treasures, when the object of
their lives was in view. If one was the boldest of generals, the
other was the most enterprising of merchants; and Fortune
favoured the daring of both. In short, Mr. Taylor was no common,
plodding trader, content with moderate gains and safe
investments, and fixing his hopes on probabilities--he pursued
traffic with the passion of a gambler, united to the close
calculation of a miser; and yet, he spent freely what he had
acquired easily.
There are merchants, who, by their education, their integrity,
their talents and their liberality, are an honour to the
profession; but Mr. Pompey Taylor was not of the number. We have
all heard the anecdote of the young man addicted to the sin of
swearing, whose conversation, during dinner, was taken down in
short-hand, and, when read afterwards, shocked the individual
himself. Could the thoughts and words of Mr. Taylor, during a
single day, have been as fairly registered, perhaps he himself
would have been astonished to find how very large a portion of
them were given to gain and speculation, in some shape or other.
At social meetings, whether dinners or evening parties, he seldom
talked long on any other subject: he has been known to utter the
word 'stocks,' just as he entered a church, on Sunday; while a
question about certain lots was the first sentence which passed
his lips, as he crossed the threshold on his way out. Eating his
meals under his own roof; walking down Broadway to Wall-Street,
every morning, at nine o'clock, and back again every afternoon at
three; still the echo of Mr. Taylor's thoughts and words was
'dollars,' 'stocks,' and 'lots'--' lots,' 'stocks,' and
'dollars.' He had a value for everything in dollars--his jokes
turned upon stocks--and his dreams were filled with lots. Let it
not be supposed, however, that Mr. Pompey Taylor was born with
the phrenological organ of the love of money more strongly
developed than other human beings. By no means. He was endowed by
nature with faculties and feelings as varied as other men. But,
from the time he could first walk and talk, precept and example
had gradually turned all his faculties in one direction; for,
such had been the opinions and views of his father and elder
brothers; and there was no other impulse in his nature or
education, sufficiently strong to give a different bent to his
energies. Under other circumstances, Pompey Taylor might have
been a quick-witted lawyer, a supple politician, a daring
soldier, or, with a different moral training, he might have been
something far superior to either; but the field of commerce was
the only one that opened to him, at his entrance into life; and
it was too well adapted to the man, such as nature and education
had made him, to be neglected. He found full scope, in such a
sphere, for all his energies of body and mind--he delighted in
its labours and its rewards.
{"phrenological" = from the pseudo-science of phrenology, which
interpreted character by feeling the bulges on the human head}
Mr. Taylor had forgotten, if he had ever known the fact, that the
best pleasures of this world even, are those which money cannot
purchase, the severest wants those which it cannot supply. He had
no conception of any consideration equal to that which riches
give. Beauty unadorned was no beauty in his eyes; and he chiefly
valued talent as a means of making good investments and wily
speculations. He looked upon Science as the hand-maiden of
Commerce; Armies and Navies existed only to defend a nation's
wealth, not its liberties, or its honour. The seat of his
patriotism was in his pocket; and the only internal improvement
in which he was interested, was that which opened new facilities
for acquiring money. It is surprising how totally such a mind
becomes unfitted to enjoy and admire any great or noble quality
in the abstract; in spite of a quick wit and keen organs, such
men become the most one-sided beings, perhaps, in the whole human
family. To moral beauty Mr. Taylor seemed quite blind; his mental
vision resembled the physical sight of those individuals whose
eyes, though perfect in every other respect, are incapable of
receiving any impression of an object tinged with blue--the
colour of the heavens. Even the few ideas he had upon religious
subjects partook of the character of loss and gain; the simple
spirit of true piety could never enter into a mind in the state
of his. And yet, Mr. Taylor was looked upon as a happy man.
Fortunate he certainly was, for wealth and luxury had risen
around him almost as readily as if possessed of Aladdin's lamp.
Had he been actually in possession of this gift of the genii, he
could scarcely have found a wish to gratify, as money had already
provided him with all it can supply in this country, and the
pursuit of wealth itself was his delight. Deprived of this,
Othello's occupation were gone.
{"Othello's occupation were gone" = William Shakespeare,
"Othello", III.iii.358}
Justice to Mr. Taylor would require that we should follow him to
the counting-house, for it was there that he appeared in the most
brilliant light. His talents were undoubted; his sagacity, his
skill, and his daring were great; and his undertakings were
generally successful. Thus far all appeared very well; but those
who looked closer into the matter would have found that his
integrity was anything but unimpeachable, his love of money far
surpassing his love of truth and justice. This part of his career
must be left, however, to other hands; it is only what he was in
social and domestic life, that the merchant appears among our
Longbridge friends.
The first few months after he had removed to New York, the utmost
extent of Mr. Taylor's ambitious dreams had been the possession
of a brick house in Broadway, on a lot of ground twenty-three
feet by seventy. According to the favourite rule of New York
architecture, the rule of three, the building was to be three
stories high, and three windows wide. But the end of the first
ninety days in Wall-Street, brought an accession of several
thousands, and the brilliant promise of so many more, that this
plan was enlarged several inches each way. As every succeeding
season brought an increase of wealth and ambition, the projected
dwelling grew at last to be taller and broader by several feet,
until, at length, it had reached the limits which magnificence
usually attains on the island of Manhattan. Had Mr. Taylor built
his house in Philadelphia, or almost any other American town, he
might have laid rather a broader foundation for his habitation;
but New York houses, as a rule, are the narrowest and the tallest
in the land. Some of those three-story dwellings, however,
whatever may be their architectural defects, contain inmates who
are as much to be desired for friends as any others in the world.
But to return to Mr. Taylor's new house; we have said that it was
one of the proud few which could boast its four stories and its
four windows. He was perfectly satisfied with the result when
finished, for his house from the garret to the cellar was a
faithful copy of one opposite to him, which had been built some
months earlier, and was pronounced the house of the season.
The American people may have been perfectly original in their
constitution, but in most other respects they are particularly
imitative. An observer, at a first glance, wonders that so much
cleverness should be wasted in mere imitation; but it is, after
all, the simple result of the position of the country. An
intelligent people, we are furnished by books with more ideas
than we have models on which to shape them. In an old state of
society, there is always a class who labour after originality,
and are proud to be called eccentric; but a young nation, cut off
from the rest of the civilized world, must necessarily be
imitative in its character until it has arrived at maturity. This
spirit of imitation, to a certain extent an advantage, is, to be
sure, often carried to a laughable extent when it loses sight of
common sense. People seem to forget the fact that propriety must
always be the first step to true elegance. As a proof of it, we
see men who appear to have consulted their neighbours' tastes,
habits, and means, instead of their own, in building the house
they themselves are to inhabit; like Mr. Taylor, without any very
good reason, they imitate their opposite neighbour. Again, it is
surprising to see what time and toil are spent in following every
variation of fashion in dress, by many women who certainly can
ill afford it; we do not mean fashion in its general outlines,
but in its most trifling details. If one could watch the progress
of an idle fancy of this nature, from the moment it springs from
the caprice of some European elegante, with more time and money
than she knows how to throw away, until it becomes a necessity to
an American housemaid, earning a dollar a week--we have no doubt
the period would be found surprisingly short.
{"elegante" = a fashionable lady (French)}
The habit of imitation just alluded to, is more striking perhaps
in architecture than in anything else, for in that shape it is
always before our eyes; and no place in the country is more
marked with it than New York. In no town in he world are there as
many dwellings so much alike; and this fact is not the result of
necessity, or of any plan of architectural unity--it is not that
the plan first hit upon proved to be the most rational, or best
suited to the spot and its inhabitants--but it is chiefly the
consequence of a spirit of imitation.
To return to our story: this new house of Mr. Taylor, this
successful imitation of his opposite neighbour, had been opened
the first of May, the general moving day in New York. It was
fitted up in the richest manner, young Taylor having received
carte blanche from his father to purchase handsome furniture in
Paris. Rosewood and satin, gilt bronzes and Sevres vases, were
all of the best kind--and Mr. Taylor was perfectly satisfied with
the effect of his two drawing-rooms. It was determined they
should be shown off during the following winter, by a succession
of dinners and parties. He had already tried his hand at
entertaining; after having eaten a dozen great dinners with
different commercial notabilities, he had given one himself just
before leaving town. The affair, a man-dinner, of course, had
gone off brilliantly--thanks to his beautiful porcelaine de
Sevres, his candelabras and his epergnes, his English plate and
English glass; all of which showed off to great advantage the
best of the good things abounding in the New York market, cooked
by a Frenchman, and washed down by wines from the most famous
vineyards of France, Germany, and Spain. His entertainment was
pronounced as handsome as any given that winter in town; and Mr.
Taylor determined that it should be only the first of a long
series.
{"general moving day" = in New York City, at this time, leases
for the rental of houses generally expired on May 1; "porcelaine
de Sevres" = expensive chinaware from the French town of Sevres;
"epergne" = an elaborate bowl used as a table centerpiece
(French)}
His country-house rivalled his establishment in town. By his
first plan, he had intended that it should equal that of Mr.
Hubbard, at Longbridge; but eighteen months had made a material
change in his affairs, which produced corresponding alterations
in the building. First one large wing was added, then another;
Mr. Hubbard's house had but one Corinthian portico, Mr. Taylor's
had two. He was born in a house which had been painted only on
one front, and he was now of the opinion of the old tar, who
purchased a handsome jacket like his commanding officer, but
ordered the back as well as the front to be made of satin, and
meeting the admiral, pulled up his coat-tails to show that there
was "no sham." Mr. Taylor could not outdo the plate-glass, and
mahogany doors of Mr. Hubbard's house, but he had great
satisfaction in showing him his portico on the south front, and
in proving there was no sham. When the wings were added, they
were completely surrounded on three sides by a colonnade. Mr.
Taylor having happened, just at the moment, to make thirty
thousand dollars by one successful speculation, he sent orders to
the master-builder for a double set of columns; and as a
consequence, the colonnade was so very conspicuous that it became
the pride of the neighbourhood. Mr. Taylor, himself, was so much
struck with the first view, when completed, that he decided to
name the place "Colonnade Manor." There is no accounting for
taste in names, we suppose, any more than in other matters. Like
No. five hundred and ----- Broadway, Colonnade Manor was
furnished with rosewood and satin from Paris.
Mrs. Taylor, good soul, entered very little into the spirit of
this magnificence. She still sat in her nursery with her younger
children as much as possible, darning all the stockings of the
family; an occupation which Adeline thought very ungenteel, for
she never condescended to use her needle at all. To make Mrs.
Taylor a fine lady had been one of the least successful of Mr.
Taylor's efforts; she was much too honest by nature to assume a
character for which she was so little qualified. There was but
one way in which she could succeed in interesting herself in all
the parade which gratified Mr. Taylor's taste; she found it gave
pleasure to her husband and children, and she endeavoured to make
the best of it. She wore the fine dresses purchased for her by
Adeline, and drove out once in a while in her handsome carriage,
to pay at least a few of the many visits urged by Mr. Taylor.
Among the new acquaintances she had made in the last ten years,
there were few Mrs. Taylor liked as well as Miss Wyllys; and Miss
Agnes, in her turn, respected all that was honest and
straight-forward in the character of her new neighbour; indeed,
the whole family at Wyllys-Roof very much preferred her to the
more pretending husband and daughter. The note, of which Adeline
was the bearer, was an application to Miss Wyllys for advice in
some domestic difficulty. It ran as follows:
"MY DEAR MISS WYLLYS:--
"You have been so kind to me, ever since we moved into your
neighbourhood, that I hope you will excuse me for asking your
assistance, this morning. I have been a good deal plagued in my
kitchen ever since we came into the country this spring. My cook
and chamber-maid, who are sisters, are always finding some excuse
for wanting to go to the city; and last night they got a letter,
or pretended to get one from New York, saying that their father
was very sick; and as I didn't know but it might be true, I
couldn't refuse them, and they have gone for a week--though I
won't be sure it was not for a mere frolic. As it happened, Mr.
Taylor and Adeline came back from Saratoga, last night, and
brought a house-full of company with them; an old friend of mine
whom I had not seen for years, and some new acquaintances of
Adeline's. To make matters worse, my nurse, a faithful, good
girl, who has lived with me for years, was taken sick this
morning; and John, the waiter, had a quarrel with the coachman,
and went off in a huff. You know such things always come
together. So I have now only the coachman and his daughter, a
little girl of twelve, in the house; happily they are both
willing, and can do a little of everything. If you know of
anybody that I can find to take the place of cook, or housemaid,
I shall be truly obliged to you for giving the coachman their
names and directions.
"Adeline is to have a little party this evening; she met several
of our Longbridge friends on board the boat yesterday, and took
that opportunity of asking them, as she is very anxious to make
the house pleasant to her company. I dare say she has already
invited all your family, and I shall be very sorry if you are not
able to come, for we always miss you more than any others of our
neighbours.
"Hoping you will excuse the trouble I give you, I remain, dear
Madam,
"Very respectfully and truly yours,
"HESTER TAYLOR."
Miss Wyllys had no sooner read the note, than, full of sympathy
for Mrs. Taylor's difficulties, she held a consultation with her
female factotum, Elinor's nurse, or Mammy as she was called. All
the men, women, and children in the neighbourhood, who might
possibly possess some qualifications for the duties of cook,
chamber-maid, or footman, were run over in Miss Agnes' mind; and
she succeeded at last, by including one superannuated old woman,
and another child of ten, in making out a list of some dozen
names for her neighbour's benefit. The whole morning was spent by
the coachman, scouring the country with the Taylor barouche and
horses--for no time was to be spent in changing harness--in
pursuit of Dianthy This, and Araminty That. Mrs. Taylor, of
course, awaited his return with trembling anxiety; the Saratoga
party had gone off to fish, escorted by Mr. Taylor and a younger
daughter; Adeline having taken that opportunity to go to see
Jane, excusing herself from accompanying the fishing set, on
account of the arrival of this very intimate friend of hers. The
mistress of the house, after having administered a dose of
medicine to the sick nurse, and sent the little girl of twelve to
make the beds and sweep, gave one melancholy look at things in
the kitchen, and then remembered that she could no longer leave
this particular old friend of her's alone in the drawing-room.
While talking over past times, Mrs. Taylor chose a rocking-chair
commanding a view of the approach to the house: just at the
moment when she began to fear the horses had run away, killed the
coachman, and broken the carriage, she saw the barouche driving
up the avenue, but, alas, sans cook! She kept her seat
womanfully, and heard out the end of a long story which the old
friend was relating about a family of relations. But at length
Mrs. Taylor found that the moment for action had come; and giving
her friend the choice of her own knitting-work, or a walk in the
garden with her youngest child, a pretty prattling little boy,
she excused herself for a few moments, under pretext of looking
after the sick nurse. The old friend was quite a talkative
person, and one to whom a listener was very necessary; she
preferred the little boy to the knitting-work, and set out to
look at-the garden.
Mrs. Taylor instantly disappeared in the direction of the
kitchen.
"Well, John!"
"Well, marm, I couldn't pick up nobody, for love or money."
"Didn't Miss Wyllys know of any one in the neighbourhood?"
"Yes, marm; I have got a list here; but some of 'em had got
places already; there was two that was sick; one, Araminty
Carpenter, I guess, would have suited Mrs. Taylor very well, for,
I know the young woman's father; but she has gone over to
Longbridge, to work at the Union Hotel, for a week. There was one
name written so I couldn't make it out; and two of 'em I couldn't
find; folks couldn't tell me where they lived. There is a young
thing down at the Mill, who looks handy, but doesn't know
anything of cooking; but, I engaged her to come to-morrow, and
Mrs. Taylor can see if she suits."
"Why didn't you bring her with you at once, John?"
"She couldn't come, no ways, till to-morrow; she was washing;
and, if she left the work, there was no one to do it."
Let it not be supposed that Mrs. Taylor sunk under these
difficulties. The fishing-party returned; and, by means known
only to herself, the coachman, and the little girl of twelve, a
dinner, much as usual, was provided for her guests, who were left
in happy ignorance of the desertion in the kitchen.
It must be surprising, to those unaccustomed to such things, to
observe with what courage and cheerfulness the mistress of an
American family encounters the peculiar evils of her lot--evils
undreamt of by persons in the same station in any other part of
the world. Her energies seem to rise with the obstacles that call
them out; she is full of expedients--full of activity; and,
unless fairly worn out by exertion for which she has not the
physical strength, always manages to keep up appearances, and
provide for the comfort of her household, until her troubles are
surmounted, for the time being, and she gathers strength, in a
moment of respite, for fresh difficulties, when they present
themselves. Even her husband and sons are seldom aware of her
toils and vexations. Many people are ignorant of the number of
virtues that are included, at such moments, in that of
hospitality; could a plain, unvarnished account, be made out, of
the difficulties surmounted, at some time or other, by most
American matrons, the world would wonder at their fortitude and
perseverance. Not that difficulties like those of our friend,
Mrs. Taylor, are of constant duration, but they occur oftener
than the uninitiated are aware of. Yet even obstacles like these
seem never to interfere with that constant intercourse, from
tea-parties to visits of weeks, which are exchanged between all
American families and their friends. But then no people in the
world are more truly hospitable--none are more social in their
feelings, than the inhabitants of these United States.