CHAPTER XV.

SCENES IN THE LOMBARDS.

"A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch,

Uncapable of pity, void and empty

From any dram of mercy."--_Shakspeare._

"----there, there, there! a diamond gone, cost me three thousand ducats

in Frankfort! The curse never fell on our nation till now."--_Idem._

"O sailor boy, sailor boy, peace to thy soul!"--_Dibdin._

To one who would study human nature, especially in its darker features,

there is no better field of observation than among these pawn-brokers'

shops.

In a frequented establishment, each day unfolds an ample catalogue of

sorrow, misery, and guilt, developed in forms and combinations almost

innumerable; and if the history of each customer could be known, the

result would be such a catalogue as would scarcely be surpassed even by

the records of a police-office or a prison. Even my brief stay while

arranging for the redemption of Dr. Wheelwright's personals, afforded

materials, as indicated in the last chapter, for much and painful

meditation.

I had scarcely made my business known, at the first of "my uncle's"

establishments to which I had been directed, when a middle-aged man

entered with a bundle, on which he asked a small advance, and which, on

being opened, was found to contain a shawl and two or three other

articles of female apparel. The man was stout and sturdy, and, as I

judged from his appearance, a mechanic; but the mark of the destroyer

was on his bloated countenance and in his heavy, stupid eyes.

Intemperance had marked him for his own. The pawn-broker was yet

examining the offered pledge, when a woman, whose pale face and

attenuated form bespoke long and intimate acquaintance with sorrow,

came hastily into the shop, and with the single exclamation, "O

Robert!" darted, rather than ran, to that part of the counter where the

man was standing. Words were not wanted to explain her story. Her

miserable husband, not satisfied with wasting his own earnings, and

leaving her to starve with her children, had descended to the meanness

of plundering even her scanty wardrobe, and the pittance for the

obtaining of which this robbery would furnish means, was destined to be

squandered at the tippling-house. A blush of shame arose even upon his

degraded face, but it quickly passed away; the brutal appetite

prevailed, and the better feeling that had apparently stirred within

him for the moment, soon gave way before its diseased and insatiate

cravings.

"Go home," was his harsh and angry exclamation; "what brings you here,

running after me with your everlasting scolding? go home, and mind your

own business."

"O Robert, dear Robert," answered the unhappy wife, "don't pawn my

shawl. Our children are crying for bread, and I have none to give them.

Or let me have the money; it is hard to part with that shawl, for it

was my mother's gift; but I will let it go, rather than see my children

starve. Give me the money, Robert, and don't leave us to perish."

I watched the face of the pawn-broker to see what effect this appeal

would have upon him, but I watched in vain. He was hardened to

distress, and had no sympathy to throw away. "Twelve shillings on these

things," he said, tossing them back to the drunkard, with a look of

perfect indifference.

"Only twelve shillings!" murmured the heart-broken wife, in a tone of

despair. "O Robert, don't let them go for twelve shillings. Let me try

somewhere else."

"Nonsense," answered the brute. "It's as much as they're worth, I

suppose. Here, Mr. Crimp, give us the change."

The money was placed before him, and the bundle consigned to a drawer.

The poor woman reached forth her hand toward the silver, but the

movement was anticipated by her husband. "There Mary," he said, giving

her half a dollar, "there, go home now, and don't make a fuss. I'm

going a little way up the street, and perhaps I'll bring you something

from market, when I come home."

The hopeless look of the poor woman, as she meekly turned to the door,

told plainly enough how little she trusted to this ambiguous promise.

They went on their way, she to her famishing children, and he to

squander the dollar he had retained, at the next den of intemperance.

While this little scene was in progress, another had been added to the

number of spectators. This was a young man, dressed in the height of

the fashion, that is to say, in a be-frogged and be-laced frock coat

with a standing collar, a pair of cossack pantaloons tapering down to

the foot with a notch cut in the front for the instep, and a hat about

twice as large at the crown as at the rim, much resembling in shape an

inverted sugar-loaf, with the smaller end cut away. He had a reckless,

dare-devil, good humored look, and very much the air of what is called

"a young man about town;" that is, one who rides out to Cato's every

afternoon, eats oyster suppers at Windust's every night after the play,

and spends the rest of his time and his money at billiards. I had cast

my eye upon him occasionally during the affair of the shawl, and saw

that he took a deep interest in its termination. The moment the poor

woman was gone, he twitched from his neck a gold chain, at the end of

which was a small gold watch, and placing it in the hands of the

pawn-broker, with whom he seemed to be on terms of acquaintance, he

exclaimed, "Quick now, Crimp; thirty dollars on that; you've had it

before, and needn't stop to examine it."

The money was instantly produced and paid over; and the young man of

fashion, crumpling the notes up in his hand, ran off at full speed,

first looking up and then down the street in a manner that gave me a

suspicion as to the cause of his haste. I took the liberty of following

him to the door, and was in abundant time to find my conjecture

verified by seeing him accost the poor woman who had just left the

shop, thrust into her hand either the whole or part of the sum he had

just received on the pledge of his watch and chain, and then hurry away

to the other side of the street, without stopping either for thanks or

for explanation.

The reverie of mingled surprise and admiration into which I was thrown

by this unexpected manifestation of benevolence, was interrupted by a

loud outcry from Mr. Crimp, the pawn-broker, and by seeing him, with a

look of wrath and horror, hurry round his counter and out through the

door, upon the sidewalk, where he stood for a moment straining his eyes

down the street, as if in search of the kind-hearted youth, who had by

this time disappeared up one of the cross streets.

"The villain," he exclaimed; "the swindling scoundrel! Which way did he

go, the ungrateful thief? Tell me," he continued, turning to me, "tell

me which way he went, and I'll give you any thing you've a mind to ask.

Yes, I'll give you--half a dollar, if you'll show me where he is."

I was not a little astonished at all this, but deferring the

gratification of my curiosity for the present, pointed out to Mr. Crimp

the course taken by his late customer, and mentioned also what I had

seen take place between him and the poor woman. The information, or

perhaps even the brief space employed in giving it, seemed to produce a

change of intention in the mind of the estimable gentleman.

"Ah it's no use," he said; "he's got off clear by this time, and my

thirty dollars is a case. But I'll find him yet, some day." And thus

soliloquizing, Mr. Crimp returned into his shop.

The explanation for which I was so curious, was now afforded me. The

young man had several times before deposited the watch in the hands of

Mr. Crimp, as the quid pro quo of certain needful advances, and as

often redeemed it, when accident or luck at the billiard table placed

the requisite funds at his disposal. Taking advantage of the

familiarity that had thus grown up between the broker and the trinket,

as a means of dispensing with the usual and requisite examination, a

gilt chain had been substituted for the gold one, which had been so

often deposited with the watch; and the deception had passed unnoticed

until it was too late. The watch itself was probably worth about the

sum advanced.

There was another case of a very touching description, which occurred

at the place of my next visit. It was that of an interesting female, of

about five and thirty, and in the garb of mourning. She entered the

place evidently with reluctance and timidity, and could hardly make the

object of her visit known, from very emotion. She was of a delicate

frame; of easy and rather graceful manners, and but for the ravages of

care upon her countenance, might yet have been beautiful. At length she

brought forth a ring from a pretty little morocco case, upon the pledge

of which she wished to realize such an amount of money as would sustain

herself and children through the winter. I saw that it was costing her

a pang to part with the gem; but necessity knows no law. The eyes of

the extortioner kindled, for the instant, and with evident exultation,

at the first glance of the jewel--but they fell in a twinkling as he

assumed the cold, hard aspect of his calling, took the ring in his

fingers, and holding it up to the window, pretended to examine

it--assuming, at the same time, an air of affected disappointment. He

thereupon began at once to depreciate the article--declaring that it

was nothing but a Brazilian crystal, and that he would hardly take it

at any price. I saw by the countenance, and the heaving bosom of the

lady--for such I was convinced she was, though in reduced

circumstances--that she was bitterly disappointed--having calculated

upon realizing a considerable sum from an article which she had

supposed of much higher value. But the miser was inexorable, and

peremptorily refused to advance more than four or five dollars. Her

appearance and manner at this moment were affecting to a degree.

"Well," said she: "'tis hard, but patience must endure. I have left my

babes a-crying, and I must do it; and when this is gone, I must depend

upon Him who feedeth the young ravens when they cry. But," she added,

with a heavy sigh, "_he_ said it was worth a great deal more than

that." There was a peculiar tenderness and affection in the manner in

which she, involuntarily perhaps, made this reference to some one who

was not present; and the rising tear trembled and glistened in her eye,

like the jewel in the miser's fingers.

I had seen, as the sordid wretch eyed the ring with secret satisfaction

by the window, from its brilliance, that it was a gem of value. It

glittered and sparkled in the light, with an intensity that nothing

equals but the diamond; and I was determined that the fair and

unfortunate owner should not be thus imposed upon. Just before the

bargain was completed, however, as I was about to interpose myself,

another gentleman, who had also been watching the procedure, stepped

forward and declared that that beautiful ring should not be thus

sacrificed to the rapacious Hebrew. The latter at once endeavored to

hasten matters, and declaring the bargain to have been completed, would

have succeeded in thrusting the jewel into the drawer, but for the

resolution of the gentleman, who seized and saved it. The wretch

muttered something about people's interfering in business that was

exclusively his own concern, but to no purpose. The poor widow was

rescued from his fangs; and although it was a struggle to part with the

ring, which indeed contained a choice brilliant, her heart was

gladdened by the receipt of seventy-five dollars, from one who was

willing to pay its value.

The tale of this poor lady in whose case my sympathies had been thus

enlisted, was not without interest. She was an orphan, daughter of a

Virginia planter who had been eaten into poverty by his own slaves, so

that his children were left portionless, and had been married when

young to one of those high-minded, gallant spirits, who bear their

country's flag so proudly on the wave--brave, and generous to a fault,

and in fact one of those who almost literally "spend half a crown out

of six-pence a day." She was adored by her husband, to whom she early

presented several cherub-looking sailor-boys, and while he lived to

supply her wants, though free-hearted and reckless of expenditure, she

had always enough for the present, and "a shot in the locker," to serve

while he was tossing upon the main. But alas! she had occasion too soon

to deplore the capricious uncertainty of all sublunary enjoyments.

Never was a more beautiful day, nor a more gallant spectacle, than when

the ship to which Lieutenant ---- was attached, got underway, and

departed for her last cruise in the West India seas. Every sail was

set, and so clear was the atmosphere, that the light tracery of her

rigging was seen against the sky, as she bore down through the Narrows.

Maria watched the ship intently until the last dark point of the

top-mast disappeared in the distance. How her bright eye sparkled, when

she heard the praises of her husband's carriage on deck as he assumed

his duties, spoken from the lips of friends who had with her witnessed

the departure of the ship!--But before she retired to rest, tears had

more than once usurped the features which were a few hours before

dimpled by joy. A strange sensation--some unusual and undefinable

apprehension of--she knew not what--had taken possession of her bosom,

and she closed her long, silken eye-lashes to sleep even while yet she

had scarce done weeping.

But the ship assumed her station in the squadron in due season, and

every return vessel brought letters from her Frederick, full of

affection for herself, and kisses and remembrances for Jack, Tom, and

the baby. Often, moreover, did they abound with glowing descriptions of

the scenery of those sunny West India climes, through which he had

strolled when occasionally on shore. It was summer, and the tropical

sun was reigning in his full glory. But his mind was enthusiastic and

poetical, and the nights, so transcendantly beautiful in those regions,

were his delight. After the sun, which had been blazing with

irresistible fierceness in an unclouded sky, through the day, had sunk

to rest, there was such a luxury in the enjoyment of a tropical

evening! The clearness and brilliancy of the heavens, the serenity and

soft tranquillity of the atmosphere, diffusing the most calm and

delightful sensations. The moon shines out with a greater radiance in

those heavens than in ours, and when she coquettishly turns her back

upon this side of our mundane sphere, her place is well supplied by the

superior brilliance of the stars. Such, in those clear skies, is their

glittering effulgence, that the visiter from other latitudes would

scarce suppose them to be the same luminaries that sparkle in their own

heavens. Venus--the bright and beautiful divinity of love--appears of

far greater magnitude than here,--shining with a much greater intensity

of brightness--so strong indeed as to cast a shadow from the trees.

These things were all described by Frederick to his Maria, with a

richness and a glow of language, such as sailors seldom use. And all

that was wanting to complete his happiness, was his Eve to stroll by

his side among the groves of citron and lemon--redolent with every

fruit that is inviting, and every flower that is beautiful. And how she

longed to be with him I need not tell!

While, however, the ship was yet in those seas, cruising in the gulf of

Mexico, autumn came on, and with it the season of storms. The lofty

peaks of the stupendous mountains, in some of the nearest islands, were

frequently in sight, perceptible often at a great distance, from the

peculiar transparency of the atmosphere. At length the experienced

navigators discerned celestial phenomena, which caused them to watch

the heavens with greater solicitude. Piles of massive clouds, fleecy,

and of a reddish hue, were observed in the morning, in the

south-eastern quarter of the heavens, and the crests of the mountains,

cloudless and yet of an azure cast, seemed nearer the ship than they

were wont. Soon the pillowy masses of vapor began to move lazily toward

the mountains--flashes which were but dimly discerned breaking from

them, followed by the hollow and distant roll of thunder--sometimes so

distinctly as to sound as if reverberating from peak to peak among the

mountains, though yet at a very great distance. The ocean, too, began

to heave as though in labor, and its roaring was borne along upon the

freshening breeze. These indications spoke but too clearly the approach

of one of those dreadful visitations in which the Almighty so

frequently displays his power in the West India seas, and proclaims his

judgments in such melancholy dispensations. The wind increased, the

roaring of the ocean deepened upon the ear, and all hands in every

craft upon the gulf were engaged in reefing their sails, and making

every thing snug for the onset.

Nothing can be more fierce, sudden, or uncontrollable, than the West

India hurricanes. Electrical in their origin, the moment the spark

produces a combination of oxygen and hydrogen, the sudden and terrible

fall of hail and rain pouring impetuously down, creates a vacuum into

which the air rushes from every direction with tremendous velocity.

Sometimes the air, by the meeting of opposite currents, assumes the

form of a whirlwind: a dark cloud preceding it, unrolling itself

suddenly, and mantling the whole heavens in gloom, lightened

occasionally by the flashings of lurid fire,--while if upon land,

houses, corn-stacks, cane-fields, and even whole forests, are whirled

aloft and scattered to fragments in an instant; or, if upon the deep,

the whole ocean is wrought into maddened and foaming fury; and woe to

the vessel, no matter for its strength or magnitude, that is brought

within the vortex of the tempest.

Such was the fact in regard to the hurricane of which I am speaking.

Some of the light craft then upon the gulf, escaped and came into the

harbor of New-York. They reported that never within the memory of man,

had that sea been the scene of so fearful a tempest. It commenced with

a tremendous crash from the heavens, and the gulf was almost instantly

lashed into a foam of contending currents. At the instant of its

commencement, apparently in the very focus of its fury, one of them saw

a dark object, resembling a ship of war, rise upon the ridge of a

towering wave, and then sink with a heavy roll into the trough of the

sea, whence she rose no more. It was a fearful night, that which

followed; the seas rushing and doubling onward, curling and foaming and

breaking with awful majesty. But the United States ship HORNET was

never heard of more. Her gallant officers and daring crew--full of high

health and hope but an hour before--were all--all, in that dread

moment--without one instant to bid adieu or breathe a prayer--hurried

to their doom!

But to return from this digression. Mr. and Mrs. Wheelwright's articles

were all redeemed, and their house comfortably warmed and supplied for

the winter, as I have already intimated. And in addition to such

present relief as was rendered imperatively necessary by his wounded

hand, the funds contributed for his benefit enabled me to lay in, for

his use and behoof, ample materials for sixty bedsteads--a stock in

trade rendering him a rich man, compared with what had been his

temporal condition for a long while before. His spirits in a good

measure revived at even _such_ a change in his circumstances--and his

wife poured forth an overwhelming torrent of Irish blessings, with

thanks to "his honor," and "his worship," without number.

Ups and Downs in the Life of a Distressed Gentleman · 第 15 / 16 章