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THE
WHITE ROSE
OF
MEMPHIS:
A Novel.
BY
W. C. FALKNER.
“Stone walls do not a prison make,
Nor iron bars a cage;
Minds innocent and quiet take
That for an hermitage;
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.”
_Richard Lovelace._
M. A. DONOHUE & COMPANY
CHICAGO NEW YORK
COPYRIGHT, 1881, BY
G. W. CARLETON & CO.
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY
J. W. T. FALKNER.
_White Rose of Memphis._
PUBLISHERS’ PREFACE.
For thirty-one years, this book has met popular favor, and a sale of
_one hundred and sixty thousand copies_. Its sale now is steadily
increasing, notwithstanding the worn condition of the plates.
_This 35th edition_, now printed from new plates, is offered, believing
it will outlive its fifty-six years of copyright.
But few works of fiction are accredited with such favor, or with such
extensive circulation.
THE WHITE ROSE
OF
MEMPHIS.
CHAPTER I.
“Speak it out, captain; I know by your looks you have something to say,
and I am full of curiosity to hear it.”
“Very true, my dear fellow; I have at last hit on a scheme which I think
will prove very profitable, and will be glad to take you in as an equal
partner.”
“Glad to hear it; I am ready for anything to make an honest living.”
“I have chartered the best boat on the river, and mean to put her to
work on the line between here and New Orleans, and shall of course be
her commander, and would be glad to have you take charge of the office,
and we will divide profits.”
“I am truly grateful, captain, for the manifestation of confidence
contained in your offer, and will gladly undertake the business.”
“Very good; then we may consider it settled so far. The next thing to be
done is to get up a handsome advertisement, and meantime the boat must
be re-painted, re-furnished and overhauled generally.”
“Give the necessary instructions as to these things, captain, and draw
on me for my share of the expenses. By the by, what boat have you
chartered?”
“The ‘Star of the West;’ but I will have her name changed, as I do not
like that one. What shall her new name be?”
“I leave that to you, and trust you will select a pretty name; there is
nothing like having a pretty name for a pretty boat. Shakespeare was
decidedly mistaken when he thought that there was nothing in a name.”
“I agree with you there, Sam, and insist that you shall select the
name.”
“No, no; but I’ll tell you what we will do: you write down three names,
and I’ll write three; we’ll put them in a hat, and the first one drawn
shall be her name.”
“All right.”
The names were written, placed in the captain’s hat, and Sam was
requested to draw out one.
“What have you got, Sam?” said the captain.
“The prettiest name that ever was seen on a wheel-house. You might have
given me a month to think about it, and I never should have thought of
such a sweet-sounding name.”
“Well, what is it?”
“THE WHITE ROSE OF MEMPHIS.”
“I am truly glad to know that you think it a pretty name, and we will
have the letters made in gold.”
“When can we be ready to start, captain?”
“It will take six weeks to get everything ready. We must manage to make
a grand display when we start on our first trip.”
“You had better prepare the advertisement, then, and let it appear at
once. Suppose we give a grand masquerade ball on board just before we
start.”
“Capital idea, Sam; we’ll make the first trip one of pleasure, so as to
attract the attention of the public. I’ll prepare the advertisement at
once.”
The foregoing conversation was carried on between Captain Oliver Quitman
and Samuel Brazzleman, two well-known and very popular steam-boat men of
Memphis, whose experience in that business had won for them an
established reputation for reliability and integrity.
The following advertisement appeared in one of the morning papers a few
days after the conversation above related:
The new and splendid passenger boat, “White Rose of Memphis,” has
been purchased by Captain Oliver Quitman, and will be put on the
line between Memphis and New Orleans. She will start on her first
trip at 9 A. M., on May 1st, for the Crescent City, under the
immediate command of her owner. Samuel Brazzleman will officiate at
the clerk’s desk, and Dave Halliman, at the wheel. The old reliable
river man, Thomas Henderson, has agreed to take charge of the
engine. Professor Frazzlebrains’s splendid string band has been
employed to make music for the amusement of the passengers. A grand
masquerade ball will be given on board the “White Rose” on the
evening of the 30th inst., and arrangements will be made to
continue the amusement every night during the round trip. The grand
saloon is eminently suited for dancing parties, and has been
gorgeously furnished with everything necessary to make the
passengers comfortable. It is the intention of the captain to make
the first trip one of pleasure and amusement. Reduced rates will be
given to excursion parties who may apply for them for the round
trip.
This advertisement (as might be expected) created quite a sensation
among the fair sex of Memphis, and added very greatly to the cash
receipts of silk merchants and milliner shops; while it caused a
corresponding shrinkage in the money bags of doting parents of
marriageable daughters. Memphis was then, and is now, famous for the
beauty of her women, and the muddiness of her streets. Cotton bales and
pretty women seem to be a spontaneous production in and about Memphis,
and, in spite of bad government and yellow fever epidemics, she is
handsome and lively still.
“Well, Sam, old fellow, what do you think of the prospect?”
“Splendid! we have made a ten strike this time--every room has been
engaged, and still they come.”
“Is she not a beauty, Sam?”
“Never saw her match in my life. What’s the time, captain?”
“Eight thirty, and time for the maskers to begin to arrive; by the by,
here they come now. Has the music arrived?”
“Long, long ago, captain; everything is ready.”
“Good, Sam; we must put our best foot foremost to-night; much depends on
first impressions. Have you got plenty of wines and ice?”
“Oceans, oceans of all kinds.”
This conversation occurred on board of the “White Rose,” between Captain
Quitman and Samuel Brazzleman, who were both rejoicing at the prospect
of a remunerative trip, which was to begin on the next morning. Before
nine o’clock the dazzling lights in the long saloon were streaming down
on the vast crowd of maskers as they glided along through the mazes of
the dance; while soft, sweet sounds floated out on the night air.
Fantastic costumes, sparkling jewels, white, blue and red plumes,
rustling silk, shining satin, soft velvet, sparkling diamonds,
high-heeled boots, splendid music, the popping of champagne bottles, the
hum of many voices, the merry laughter, the brisk and graceful movement
of charming women, were all contributing to the dazzling show. All kinds
of costumes were to be seen, old-fashioned and new, gaudy and plain.
Mary, Queen of Scots, with her rich, royal costume of Scotland, all
bedecked with sparkling diamonds, was dancing with Ingomar, the
Barbarian Chief, with his savage beard reaching to his waist, and his
top-boots all shaded with gold. The knight of Ivanhoe, with his
glittering armor on, was dancing with the first maid of honor, who wore
blue silk, and yellow mask. Don Quixote, the Knight of Salamanca,
dressed in shabby but quaint armor, was jumping high and awkwardly, as
he danced with the second maid of honor, who was a graceful dancer,
dressed in orange-colored silk with pink mask. Henry of Navarre, with
his black plume waving high above the throng, was marching up and down
the saloon with the queen of Sheba leaning on his arm. Sancho Panza,
with his clownish costume, was playing the clown to perfection, to the
great amusement of the children. The Duke of Wellington and Napoleon
were taking a mint julep at the bar, while George III. was quarreling
with Sam Brazzleman because he wouldn’t tell him the name of the lady
who represented the Queen of Scots.
“Positively against our rules to divulge the names of parties in mask,
without their consent,” says Sam.
“Well, does she reside in Memphis?”
“Can’t answer; I tell you it is contrary to orders.”
“Is she going to New Orleans on this boat?”
“Yes.”
“Good! I’ll find out who she is, if I follow her to the other side of
the world!” and the imitator of the defunct tyrant made his way to where
the mysterious queen stood conversing with her Barbarian Chief.
“Who is that lady dancing with Ingomar?” inquired George III. of
Ivanhoe.
“Do not know; wish I did.”
“I’ll give a hundred dollars to know who she is.”
“I’ll go you halves,” says Ivanhoe.
George III. and Ivanhoe were not the only ones who wanted to know who
was personating the Scottish queen. It seemed to be a general desire
among the male maskers to know who she was. It is hard to say what
caused this general wish to know who she was. It might have been caused
by a combination of circumstances. There appeared to be a desire on the
part of the gentlemen to get near her. Was it the soft, sweet melody of
her voice, or was it the queen-like grace of her movements? Perhaps it
was the profusion of golden hair that fell, unconfined, beneath the
quaint crown of sparkling jewels that graced her brow; or it may have
been the little provoking, pretty foot that now and then made its
appearance as she floated like a fairy over the floor. When she took her
seat at the piano, and began to sing, while the rich, sweet voice rose
until the saloon seemed to be filled with soul-stirring music, curiosity
went up to fever heat, and George III. would have given his kingdom to
know who she was. Ingomar, the Barbarian Chief, with his long, shaggy
whiskers, stood near the queen, turning the music sheets as the song
progressed, and occasionally stooping to whisper something in her ear,
which she answered with a nod and a smile. As soon as the song was ended
the knight of Ivanhoe requested Ingomar to present him to the queen.
Ingomar in a low whisper asked her permission to present the knight of
Ivanhoe, which was promptly granted.
“I have the honor, your Majesty, to present my distinguished and
honorable friend, Sir Knight of Ivanhoe.” A graceful bow and the queen
held out her little white hand, which Ivanhoe pressed to his lips.
“Sir Knight, we are delighted to know you. Shall we have the pleasure of
your presence during our excursion to New Orleans?”
“I am profoundly grateful for your Majesty’s condescension, and shall be
overjoyed at the privilege of making one of the party.”
“To-morrow being the first day of May, our festivities will commence,
and it is our royal pleasure, sir knight, that you shall attach yourself
to our court during the trip.”
“I cannot find language, my dear madame, to express my gratitude for the
distinguished honor you confer upon me.”
“Partners for a quadrille,” rang through the saloon as the band struck
up a lively tune. George III., the Duke of Wellington and Napoleon all
made a dash toward the queen at once, each one anxious to secure her as
a partner, but with a low bow and a sweet smile she turned to Ivanhoe,
took his arm, and was soon gliding through the dance. The British King
appeared to take his discomfiture rather hard, while Wellington looked
somewhat chop-fallen; but Napoleon proposed that their sorrow should all
be drowned in a bowl of punch, which was agreed to, and the trio marched
to the bar to commence the drowning process.
“Devilish provoking,” muttered George III.
“What’s provoking?” says Wellington.
“That mysterious piece of humanity styling herself queen of Scots. I
shall always hate masquerade balls after this. I don’t think they are
respectable at all.”
“Come, come, your royal highness, you should not surrender at the first
repulse; Ivanhoe has only gained a temporary triumph, and if you will
come to the charge again with a brave heart, you may yet compel victory
to perch on your banner.”
“Ingomar had a monopoly until Ivanhoe leaped into the arena and carried
off the prize, and I advise you to show a bold front. Strategy won’t win
in battles of love. If you expect to win, don’t attempt to make a flank
movement, but come boldly up to the front. Remember that ‘faint heart
never won fair lady.’”
“I don’t want to win a fair lady, or any other kind of lady, until I
know who she is.”
“I guess you will find that out to-morrow, for she is going to New
Orleans.”
“True, but I learn that she means to make the entire trip incog.”
“Impossible, sir, impossible; how can she remain on this boat two or
three weeks without being recognized by some one?”
“That’s the question to be settled hereafter; she will have to play the
game very cautiously, if she prevents me from finding out who she is. By
the by, do you know who that savage-looking fellow is who personates
Ingomar?”
“No, but you may be sure the queen knows him; did you notice how
affectionately she leans on his arm, and how close she puts her mouth to
his ear when she speaks to him?”
“Yes, to be sure I did; but she is now playing the same game on
Ivanhoe.”
“Who the deuce is Ivanhoe?”
“I don’t know that either, and without meaning any discourtesy to you, I
beg to say that I don’t care a copper to know who he is.”
“I hear that it is the intention of Ingomar and Ivanhoe to imitate the
example of the queen by making the trip incog.”
“By all means let them do it; and I suggest that we three do the same,
and keep our names concealed from them, and we shall have rare sport.
Don’t you know that the ladies will die of curiosity if we conceal our
names? Let us form a combination against them, look and talk
mysteriously, and my word for it, propositions will be made for a treaty
looking to a general disclosure of names and the discarding of masks.”
“Capital idea, my lord, and you may depend upon my hearty co-operation.
As soon as the boat leaves the wharf to-morrow let the war begin.”
“Perhaps the captain will object to passengers going in disguise all the
time.”
“No; he told me that the queen intended to make the entire trip in mask,
and that the same privilege would be extended to all who desired to
avail themselves of it.”
“Very good, very good; then the alliance, offensive and defensive, may
be considered as ratified and confirmed.”
“Charge, Chester, charge! and on, Stanley on!” said Wellington, as he
drew the cork from a fresh bottle of champagne.
“Screw your courage up to the sticking point, my gallant king, and with
the emperor and duke at your back, move on the enemy, unfurl your
banner, cry ‘havoc,’ and let slip the dogs of war. Confusion and
discomfiture shall overwhelm our foes.”
“We must win the queen of Sheba to our side at all hazards, as I learn
that she and her two maids of honor are going on the excursion.”
“That shall be your task, then--to secure her co-operation. See her at
once, and if she will join us, we will have an easy victory.”
“You may depend on me for that,” said the counterfeit king, as he
started on his recruiting expedition. “I’ll be back in a moment, and
report progress. Meantime you and Napoleon mature the plan of the
campaign during my absence.”
George III. soon returned with a favorable report: “Her Majesty presents
her compliments to the emperor, and my lord the duke of Wellington, and
will be much gratified to have them enrolled as permanent members of her
festive court, which will be convened on the hurricane deck at eleven
o’clock A. M. to-morrow.”
“Now you have her message _verbatim_,” said the king, as he dove both
hands into his pockets, with a self-satisfied look. “Won’t we have rare
sport? won’t we make the enemy die of curiosity? We must organize
thoroughly, and make a systematic siege, and if we don’t capture the
entire party before three days, take my hat and hang it on the tallest
wave that rises behind the ‘White Rose of Memphis.’ We must seem to
ignore the other party entirely--look and talk as if no such party were
aboard; drop mysterious hints--about things that never were heard of,
speak of love-making that we could tell more about if we would. Let all
these hints be carelessly dropped in the hearing of some one of the
other party, and you may be sure that they will sue for peace and union
before we reach New Orleans. Should any one of the other party ask
questions (which they will be sure to do) shake your head, look
mysterious, shrug your shoulders, and heave a mournful sigh. Do you
think the world ever produced a woman that could stand that? Would you
believe it, the queen of Scots’ first maid of honor is now half dead to
know who I am? Can’t I see how she has been watching me for the last
hour? I’ll capture her the first thing to-morrow and employ her as a
spy in the enemies’ camp.”
At last the ball ended, the guests departed, save those who had engaged
passage for the grand excursion, and they had retired for the night, to
dream of the sport to be enjoyed on the morrow, while Captain Quitman
paced proudly on the hurricane deck, with heart swelling with
satisfaction at the pecuniary prospects before him.