himself hates no man, and in fact is always happy, jovial, and
scarcely ever disappointed with his calculations of things and
people. Whatever the Col. does, he does well, but he always puts it
off until it can be delayed no longer. If he makes up his mind that
he must go up the river, and look in the affairs of his agents or
debters, he will appoint next week, but four or five weeks will
follow in succession, but as next week must eventually come, he
battles with that until the last day. Saturday he leaves on the last
boat, and, is his most interested partner abler than another man to
tell when he will ever turn his face home, or whether he will stop at
Natchez, or Memphis, for what convinced him at 2 o'clock Saturday
that he had better get off that evening, was as much the departure of
his friends on that boat, as the conviction that these affairs of his
must be looked into. When he wants a partner in any of his various
traffics, he never looks for a man with capital, but one that
understands what his views are, and would feel an aspiring interest,
so much so as to devote all his time and talent and scrutiny to its
development of prosperity in the end, if not at first. His object
seems more the perfection of the business than its profits; but at
the end of the year of business, which is the first day of September,
if there is no profit, and he is not very deeply in, he will not be
inclined to risk much, but he sticks like a leech, and this year must
pay the loss of last. He will bleed some branch of this business
before he lets go. The balance sheet of the firm of Messrs. Fellowes
and Co., foots per annum about $140,000 to $170,000 profit; but if he
lost by giving up some of his planters that have made a good crop,
$10,000, he thinks that he managed badly, and goes about finding who
they are connected with, and whether they wish to come back again. He
will now furnish them with more means than he refused them when they
left him. No man can get along with a planter better than Cornelius
Fellowes; for he considers a planter, or slave holder, his equal in
every particular; consequently feels himself at home with them. A
planter looks at a merchant as his agent until they become the
leading houses in their community, then they are honored in having
the great merchant to stay a few days and hunt. But when they go to
New Orleans they expect to be waited on by the merchant, when to
their great disgust, the merchant sends his clerk to look after their
wants; and the merchant, instead of persuading them to come and put
up at his house, or dine with him, has other friends more congenial
to his taste and dignity, than the planter with his Sunday suit of
store made clothes. But as Mr. Fellowes never cares much for looks or
position, and as he is an old bachelor and never had a house, and a
slave holder is his equal, he hesitates not to go to the ladies
ordinary and order his seat at table, and call on the rustic
gentleman and family to dine with him, where they drink such wine as
they would most likely take at home for stump water and cider. But
this familiarity will tell upon the nerves of Mr. Fellowes, for he
does not like to feel himself obliged to do any thing, and they will,
in this good mood, invite him to the opera, theatre, or most likely
the circus. Now this stumps his benevolent feelings to those who
need no benevolence; he has his club mates, or the gaieties of
Orleans to meet, where are to be found the very men he must touch
glasses or whif a cigar with. He is now puzzled. He will let them
know before dark, but will have their tickets for them already. He
surely will be found missing; he says to himself "it will not do to
refuse them without a good and plausable excuse," therefore he plans
in his mind. He calls on one of his numerous clerks, and requests him
to take an amount of money and go and buy so many tickets, and
requests him further to call on Mr. Brown, and make an excuse, and
offer to accompany him and the ladies to the amusement in view. These
rich, bustle-dressed, young girls are diamonds in the eyes of young
clerks; and young clerks in the best houses are Adonises to what
these girls are used to. They soon become agreeable, and when they
return home, Sam Smith, their next neighbor, is treated as he
deserves to be by civilized beings. Soon after a letter comes to Mr.
Clerk from this plantation, with a lady's scrawl, care Fellowes &
Co., and Mr Fellowes delights to find that his suggestion of this
young man met the entire approbation of the favorite of the old
farmer. The fact is Mr. Fellowes can kill more birds with one stroke
of his policy, than any other man that studies so little. Mr.
Fellowes is never in so bad a humour as when he treats one kindly,
and it is unkindly returned, to illustrate this, I must drop this
epitome of his history, and carry the reader to the Capitol of
Holland, where Mr. Fellowes is trying to learn something of this
slow and easy people. He was smoking his segar when the King of
Wurtimburg went out, but took no notice of him, because he was
engaged with a group of beggar boys, throwing stivers at them. An
English gentleman that had lived in the Indies, was by us, and we had
travelled on the Rhine together. "Let us go down to the sea, five
miles off, and see the Dutch fisheries. I understand they are
extensively engaged in fishing, Mr. Grant," said Col. Fellowes. "I
have been there, Mr. Fellowes," said the Englishman, "but will go
again with you, though I know you will be annoyed with these plagued
beggars." "O," said Mr. Fellowes, "I like to see them, with their
large wooden shoes, jumping after the grochens, and further, they are
a great people, and I wish to find out a great deal about their
habits and manners; I think I shall stay here a week." The fame of
the Col. had reached the remotest corner of the Hague, and squads of
two and three were seen in all directions coming to the Bellevue
House. Here our lacquey brought before the door a fine turnout, and
he jumped in and drove away like a prince, whilst they followed on
all sides, some hundreds of yards, like Fallstaff's soldiers, ready
to run from any one they found they were close to that knew them
except their abject leader. In a few moments we were down on the
North sea. It was very cold down on the beach, but fishermen were
walking in the sea from their smacks, with hamper baskets full of all
kinds of fish. Their vessels that had been two days seining, was
full of fish, but as these vessels could get no nearer than a quarter
of a mile to land, they always fill their bushel basket, and shoulder
it, and walk through the surging waves on the beach, on whose sand
was pyramids of fish piled up, to be sold at a zwanzich bushels
(about 25 cents). Sometimes they would disappear in the waves with
the fish, but would appear soon again nearer shore, plodding on
patiently.
Whilst Col. Fellowes was reading a description of this fish point,
the lacquey explained a conversation he had with six or seven beggars
off a rod from us. He said they were anxious to know who we three
fellows were, and had dubbed Mr. Fellowes "Count of New York." I was
son of the Count, and would eventually become Count of the Amsterdam,
of the Empire state. Mr. Grant was dignified with the royal
appellation of "Duke of Brunswick." They certainly found more curious
matter in the polish of our glazed boots, than we did at their large
wooden trotters, that at every step rattled against the others, who
stood so close together as to form a bouquet of dirty Dutch heads of
various colors.
Having informed Mr. Fellowes of his new made honor, he laughed
heartily, and called them nearer to corroborate the information that
they had been so lucky to find out, by throwing among them some of
his revenue of the city named after their great Amsterdam. The Col.
threw stavers and grochens until he astonished the natives. Some
jumped clear over other's heads. Now the Col. was in his glory. This
was Friday, and they had'nt eaten anything, but from their movements
and agility, you would swear "they would make hay while the sun
shines." Their strange movements was not only a signal for miles up
the beach, but the fishermen had abandoned their smacks, and were
coming through the surf, and under it. The Col. here run out of
money, and called on my money bag, which was hanging under my arm
like a bird bag, and was full of various coins, from Louis d' Or's of
twenty franc pieces, to the smallest denominations. I gave small coin
until I thought he had thrown away enough, and then cried broke. Mr.
Grant and myself drew back from the Col., and he was beseiged. He
told them he was broke, at the same time feeling all his pockets,
whilst they was looking all around him for pockets he might overlook.
About sixty or seventy had circled him, and we were laughing to
ourselves because we saw he was vexed and felt himself in a dilemma.
The little Dutch had almost fell down in the sand by his feet, and
was feeling up his pantaloons leg to see if some was not dropping.
One old honest Dutchman that had been carefully examining Mr.
Fellowes coat tail, had come across his white handkerchief, and took
it round in front and returned it. Here Mr. Fellowes showed tokens of
fear, and he hallowed out, "Lacquey, why don't you take a stick and
beat them off, don't you see they are robbing me?" "No sir, that
handkerchief he thought was something that you had overlooked
sticking to your clothes, and he brought it to your notice," said the
lacquey. "Then tell them I am broke and drive them off." "Yes, sir,
if I can." Here he went to work in earnest, explaining that the Count
had run out of money but he had a plenty in the Bank, and they could
get no more to-day. Then they went away about a rod and seemed buried
in reflection. They started to come again, but the Col. backed, while
the lacquey appealed to their reason by informing them that were it
the king himself, he could not carry all his money with him. Mr.
Fellowes shook himself and tried to put on a pleasing countenance,
but we could not for our lives maintain our gravity at his lesson of
familiarity while learning Dutch.
We walked up the beach, and conversed on the subject of the North Sea
and Sir John Franklin, when all of a sudden Mr. Fellowes called to
the coachman to drive up. I looked around and saw the beggars coming.
We lost no time in retreating. While passing through the gates of the
city, I noticed a bronze lion placed in the position of a guardian
over it. I said, what an awful condition Daniel must have been in
when in the lion's den. "No worse," said the Col. "than I was in with
the Dutch!" Here a boy opened a door on the Col.'s side, that he
might descend. As the Col. stepped out, he alighted on the Dutchman's
wooden shoe, and tripped himself up. As he picked himself up and
moved towards the hotel door, he exclaimed in an under tone, d----n
the Dutch.
It must not be supposed that Mr. Fellowes meant any harm to the
Dutch, but, they were not in his opinion, as agreeable as they might
be. He left next day, although he intended staying a week "learning
Dutch."
ON! ON! TO WATERLOO.
Without noting Rotterdam, Holland's lowest town, and Antwerp, an old
Flemish town, I am at the carpet city of Belgium, Brussels, on my way
to Waterloo. I have a little old lacquey I just hired and he is as
cute as a mink. "All ready, sir," said he, "shall I drive you to the
Palace or the Museum?" "No sir, on to Waterloo!" Here the hackman
remonstrated--he was not engaged for twelve miles and only engaged
inside the city walls, and would not go to Waterloo this cold wet day
for less than twenty francs. "Go on, sir," said I, and he traversed
the whole of the Brussels Boulevard before he passed the gates. Here
we are at the battle-field where Wellington rose and Napoleon fell.
Wellington conquered the master of the world. Byron says, in his Ode
on Napoleon,--
"'Tis done! but yesterday a king,
And armed with kings to strive;
And now thou art a nameless thing--
So abject, yet alive"
He continues:--
"Is this the man with thousand thrones
Who strewed our earth with hostile bones,
And can he yet survive?
Since he miscalled the morning star,
Nor man nor fiend hath fallen so far."
My guide was an old revolutionary soldier who was opposed to the
Bourbons before the days of Charles the 10th. He fought in this
bloody fray, and pleads up fool play on the part of Grouchy.
Mr. Cotton's clerk sold me a copy of a book giving the details of
this battle, which it took ten years to accumulate the matter for.
Mr. Cotton was in the battle or close to it. In the centre of this
field is now an immense mound, made with the bones of slain warriors.
Small steps run up to its top, and Wellington is a monumental emblem
seated on a horse moving over the field, apparently as natural as
life, pinnacling this mound.
Having rested my body by leaning on the leg of the horse, I listened
to the harangue of this old man, whose jaws had crept into his mouth,
which was void of teeth. He first pointed out the position of
Grouchy, who was not in the battle, but was Napoleon's climaxing
reserve, off miles in the distance. He now evidently felt some of the
animating spirit of that great day, as, pointing in the same
direction, he showed me the hill over which Blucher came, and made
Napoleon believe that it was his own Grouchy. The old man quieted
his feelings before proceeding farther. He assured me that Napoleon's
heartstrings must have burst at this perfidious conduct of Grouchy.
He believed that Grouchy was so angry with Napoleon for refusing to
let him lead on the battle in the morning instead of French Generals
and Marshals, that he sold himself to the allies. Grouchy was one of
Napoleon's German Generals, and wanted the glory of a battle which,
if lost, would bankrupt the French nation, as they had drained their
coffers to support the ambition of its chief, which, no doubt, was
the greatest general of modern times. The old soldier pointed off to
the right of Blucher's march over the hill, to the French position of
Belle Alliance, and referred to those hours of anxiety from the first
evening Napoleon arrived there and saw the English in the distance,
when he craved the power of Joshua to stop the sun that he might
attack them that day, to the close of the battle, when he mounted his
white steed and started to the carnage, that he might fall among the
slain, and how he was checked by Marshal Soult, which Marshal is yet
living, who said to Napoleon, "They will not slay you but take you
prisoner," upon which he fled from the scene of desolation and
mourning.
The old soldier now turned languidly round to Hougomont, and there
depicted some of the most daring fighting that ever a juvenile ear
listened to. He said that Napoleon ordered Hougomont to be taken, and
gave so many soldiers for that purpose. Hougomont is a long brick
building, like an old fashioned barracks. It has a hedge of tall
shrubbery in front, looking towards the battle plain. Thousands of
English were stationed there with loop holes only a foot apart, so as
to shoot down all attacks. When the French soldiers went towards the
house to take it, they were shot down one upon another so fast that
the few thousands sent against it were slain before they reached the
hedge, where the French thought the fire came from. Word was sent to
Napoleon that Hougomont could not be taken, and asking for an answer
to the leader. Napoleon glanced once round the field, and said, "Tell
him to take Hougomont," but he reinforced the leader, who said to his
true soldiers, "Let us march up to die, the emperor says, take
Hougomont." When these soldiers heard the orders of their emperor,
they scuffled over the hedge to find the fire of their enemy, but to
their great disappointment it came from the loopholes! but these
daring veterans were not inclined to disobey the great emperor, who
was no more a "little corporal." "They," says history, "marched up to
the muzzles of the English muskets, and grappled with them till they
sank beneath their wrath." Afterwards they took it, but could not
keep it. They took it again and kept it some time, but finally left
it in the hands of the enemy.
The old man says there were all sorts of reports on the field the
night after the battle concerning the emperor. One was, that he rode
into the fight and fell with the old guard, who made a pyramid over
his body trying to screen him from the blows which fell on him;
others were, that Wellington had him in close confinement, and when
this was told, thousands of mangled men that seemed to be living only
to hear his fate, fell back and died the death that none can die but
a soldier. Next day the news came to the living wounded, that
Napoleon was on his way, if not at Fontainbleau, and the old soldiers
sprang up on their broken limbs, and filled the air with _vive
l'empereur, vive toujours_.
Blucher and Wellington then commenced preparing to march on Paris and
did. Blucher wanted to burn it but Wellington knew the revengeful
spirit of the nation. He might have burned Paris as his allies
wished, and, like Nero, fiddled while it burned, but all France would
have been annihilated, or London razed to the earth.
Napoleon sent to Paris to know the Cabinet's opinion of this awful
disaster to her Treasury and dignity. Tallyrand who was at the head
of affairs, advised him to stay away from Paris, for he bankrupted
France, and therefore, must abdicate. Napoleon sent a faithful man to
plead in favor of his son, but Tallyrand said he had cost France
millions of souls, besides bankrupting her, and must leave
unconditionally.
Next morning this king of a hundred thrones rode out of Fontainbleau
towards Dieppe. He went aboard an English vessel and said, "I am
Napoleon." The old captain trembled as he saw the resemblance of
that cold countenance, whose pictures filled even the hamlets of
England. Struck with this importance, he untied his vessel, drew up
his sail and steered to the admiral. Thus ends this Chapter as it did
Napoleon, whose orders some days ago were, "On to Waterloo."
THE BIAS OF MY TOUR.
Here is Ghent. It is a large city, and a great many of the Brussells
carpets are made here. There is no doubt it is as old a city as
London. It is here the famous "Treaty of Ghent" was made by Henry
Clay and John Adams. I have just been in their old residence, which,
from appearances, must have been one of the best houses in Ghent. A
good deal of silk is manufactured here even now. A great many Flemish
families live here. The city supports an Opera, besides Theatres and
other places of amusement. They are inclined to be Frenchy on the
Sabbath. I went on the Sabbath to see a horse go up in a balloon.
Three men, who paid a certain sum, took passage with the beast, and
as he hung below the balloon, well strapped so he could not kick or
agitate himself, these passengers were seated above; I hated it much,
as the beast looked so melancholy and innocent. I had seen the same
performance at Paris. It was not such a novelty to the horse as to
me, for this was the same horse I had seen at Paris some time before.
Away they went, upward like a cloud, in a hurry toward the sea, and
were soon lost to our sight.
Another day is gone and leaves me in Bruges; an old quiet city that
figured much in the romantic affairs of Flanders. Bad hotels are
plentiful here, with wise men to keep them, for if a man was to keep
them better, he would soon have to keep none. We were the only
occupants, or even strangers in town. And as we walked out to see its
wonders, we found that our arrival had excited the curiosity of a
hundred beggars. It is a characteristic trait of beggars, to keep
quiet when they see a stranger in town, like a dog with his bone he
wishes the picking of alone. But always betray themselves by waiting
too long about the hotel where their victim resides. They generally
watch the movement of the shrewdest beggar, and keep in his track.
They most always keep themselves concealed from view, until they get
their victim fairly launched; then with the sails of poverty, like
boreas, they will follow him up till they drive his temper straight
into the channel of charity, where we can only find safety in our
acts of humanity. Here I was right for once, because I had procured
an immense quantity of the smallest coin. I called them all up, and
told the lacquey de place to tell them I would give them all I had,
if they would cease to follow us, it was agreed, and I give him about
half a pint of small coin to divide among them; he give it to a
responsible one and they all followed him in counsel.
I said in August on my departure from Paris, that I was leaving it to
"enjoy the anxiety to get back." Now I am biasing my tour in
verification of that expression. I am now close to Paris, and can go
there to night. It is eleven o'clock at night, and I am at Paris. I
am going to stay this winter, as I am getting used to the life here.
Last night I arrived at the Hotel des Princes; the pretty little
portress was glad to see me, and I felt at home. She asked me if I
wanted a bottle of water with ice inside; she gave me all the news,
and showed me a list of her American occupants, and said the Russian
Princess was gone, not from Paris, but to private rooms. I put a five
franc piece in her hand to convince her I was the same man in all
particulars, and went to my room and looked around for Elverata, who
used to arrange my wardrobe so nice and say, with neatness on her
brow, "How do you like that, Mr. Dorr?" I did not see her and rang
the bell, when a strange waiter came quickly and I enquired for
Elverata; he satisfied the enquiry by saying he was only a few days
there and could not say. I went to bed. Next morning I saw the shadow
of a woman moving towards my drawer, I raised my weary head on my
elbow and said, "Good morning, Elverata." The woman quietly passed
out; I rose and dressed and went to enquire for unpretending
Elverata, but like a plant under the cloud of night, I was seeking a
tear, she was dead! and dead only one month, and everybody had
forgotten her. I had difficulty in that vast hotel to make them
understand who I was seeking. I asked what graveyard she was buried
in, but that, like Elverata, was forgotten. I shall never see her
again! she a good, honest, and religious girl; though nothing here
below, in heaven she will be more than a _femme de chambre_. Some may
well say,
"Happy those who linger yet
The steep ascent to climb,
For jewels lie like treasures set
Upon the breast of Time."
COUP D'ETAT OF NAPOLEON III.
On the morning of the 3d and 4th of Dec., the fate of Paris, like a
stormy sea, was rocking to and fro in the minds of this versatile and
fickle people.