_Showing the Voluptuous Revellings of the Rector and the Licentious
Josephine, and illustrating the Power of Temptation over Piety and
Morality._
Alas, for Dr. Sinclair! the masquerade ball, and the triumph of
Josephine Franklin, were but the commencement of a career of folly and
crime on his part. From that fatal night in after years of remorse and
misery, he dated his downfall.
He became a frequent visitor at the Franklin House, and continued his
guilty amour, with unabated zeal. Yet neither his own idolizing
congregation, nor the admiring world, suspected his frailty; he was
regarded as the most exemplary of Christians, and the best of men. When
in the pulpit, it was often remarked that he seemed absent-minded, and
ill at ease; he did not preach with his usual fluent and fervid
eloquence, nor pray with his accustomed earnest devotion. In person,
too, he was changed; his eyes were red, as if with weeping; his cheeks
were pale and haggard, and the rosy hue of health was gone. His dress
was frequently neglected and disordered, and he even sometimes appeared
with his hair uncombed, and his face unshaved. These indications of
mental and personal irregularity were much noticed and commented upon by
his congregation, comprised as it was of people the most aristocratic
and particular.
'Our dear pastor is ill,' said they, with looks of concern and sympathy;
but in answer to the numerous questions addressed to him in reference to
the state of his health, he denied the existence of all bodily ailment.
'Then he must be affected with some mental disquietude,' said they, and
forthwith he was beset by a tribe of comforters; one of whom had at last
the audacity to affirm that the Doctor's breath smelt unpleasantly of
wine!
This insinuation was received with contempt, for the brethren and
sisters of the congregation would not believe anything discreditable to
the beloved rector, and he continued to enjoy their confidence and
esteem, long after they had begun to observe something very singular in
his conduct and appearance.
But in truth, Dr. Sinclair had fallen from his high estate, and become a
wine bibber and a lover of the flesh. His stern integrity, his sterling
piety, and his moral principle, were gone forever; the temptress had
triumphed and he was ruined.
Why are ministers of the gospel so prone to licentiousness? is a
question often asked, and is often answered thus--Because they are a set
of hypocritical libertines. But we say, may not we see the reason in
this: the female members of a church are apt to regard their minister
with the highest degree of affectionate admiration--as an idol worthy to
be worshipped. They load him with presents--they spoil him with
flattery--they dazzle him with their glances, and encourage him by their
smiles. Living a life of luxurious ease, and enjoying a fat salary, he
cannot avoid experiencing those feelings which are natural to all
mankind. He is very often thrown into the society of pretty women of his
flock, under circumstances which are dangerously fascinating. The
'sister,' instead of maintaining a proper reserve, grows too
communicative and too familiar, and the minister, who is but a man,
subject to all the weaknesses and frailties of humanity, often in an
unguarded moment forgets his sacred calling, and becomes the
seducer--though we question if literal _seduction_ be involved, where
the female so readily _complies_ with voluptuous wishes, which
perchance, she responds to with as much fervor as the other party
entertains them. Therefore, we say that licentiousness on the part of
ministers of the gospel is produced in _very many_ cases by the
encouragements held out to them by too admiring and too affectionate
sisters.
One evening, Dr. Sinclair repaired to Franklin House at an early hour,
for he had engaged to dine with Josephine. He was admitted by a tall,
fresh-looking country lad, who had recently entered the house in the
capacity of footman, having been selected for that station by Mrs.
Franklin herself, as the lady had conceived a strong admiration of his
robust form and well-proportioned limbs.
The Doctor found Josephine in her _boudoir_, voluptuously reclining upon
a damask ottoman, and languidly turning over the leaves of a splendid
portfolio of engravings.
'Ah, my dear Doc,' she exclaimed, using a familiar abbreviation of
Doctor, 'I am devilish glad to see you, for I am bored to death with
_ennui_. Heigho!'
'And if I may presume to inquire, Josey,' said the Doctor--'what have
you there to engage your attention?'
'Oh, views from nature,' she laughingly replied, handing him the
portfolio for his inspection.
Turning over the leaves, the Doctor found, somewhat to his astonishment,
that the engravings were of rather an obscene character, consisting
principally of nude male figures;--and upon these specimens of a
perverted art had she been feasting her impure imagination. The time had
been, when the Doctor would have turned with pain and disgust from such
an evidence of depravity; but he had lately become so habituated to
vice, that he merely smiled in playful reproach, and leisurely examined
the pictures.
'I commend your taste,' said he, at length. 'Our preferences are both
strictly classical; you dote upon the Apollo Belvedere, while in you I
worship a Venus.'
'Yes--_you_ are my Apollo,' she rejoined, with a glance of passion,
encircling him with her arms.
* * * * *
Dinner was magnificently served in an apartment whose splendor could
scarce have been surpassed in a kingly palace.
They dined alone; for Mrs. Franklin was invisible--and so, also, was the
comely young footman!
After dinner, came wine--bright, sparkling wine, whose magical influence
gilds the dull realities of life with the soft radiance of fairy land!
How the foaming champagne glittered in the silver cup, and danced
joyously to the ripe, pouting lip of beauty, and the eloquent mouth of
divinity! How brilliant became their eyes, and what a glorious roseate
hue suffused their cheeks!
Again and again was the goblet drained and replenished, until the
maddening spell of intoxication was upon them both. Hurrah! away with
religion, and sermonizing, and conscience! Bacchus is the only true
divinity, and at his rosy shrine let us worship, and pledge him in
brimming cups of the bright nectar, the drink of the gods!
Then came obscene revels and libidinous acts. The depraved Josephine,
attired in a superb robe of lace, her splendid bust uncovered, and her
cheeks flushed with wine, danced with voluptuous freedom, while the
intoxicated rector, reeling and flourishing a goblet, sang a lively
opera air, in keeping with her graceful but indelicate movements.
Then--but we will not inflict upon the reader the disgusting details of
that evening's licentious extravagances.
Midnight came and the doctor, tipsy as he was, saw the necessity of
taking his departure; for though urged by Josephine to pass the night
with her, he dared not comply, knowing that his absence from home all
night would appear strange and suspicious to his housekeeper and
domestics, and give rise to unpleasant inquiries and remarks. He
therefore sallied forth, and though he staggered occasionally, he got
along tolerably well, until he encountered a watchman standing half
asleep in a doorway, muffled up in his huge cloak; and then, with that
invincible spirit of mischief which characterizes a drunken man, the
Doctor determined to have a 'lark' with the night guardian, somewhat
after the fashion of the wild, harem-scarem students at the University
at which he had graduated--in which pranks he had often participated.
Leaning against a lamp-post support, he began singing, in a loud and
boisterous manner--
'Watchman--hic--tell us of the--hic--night.'
Now it happened that the watchman was one of those surly ruffians who
never stop to remonstrate with a poor fellow, in whom wine has triumphed
over wit. Instead of kindly inquiring his address, and conducting the
unfortunate gentleman to his residence, the self-important petty
official adopted the very means to irritate him and render him more
boisterous. In a savage, brutal manner, he ordered the doctor to 'stop
his d----d noise, and move on, or he'd make him!'
'Nay, friend, thou art insolent,' remarked the young gentleman, who
drunk as he was, could not brook the insults of the low, vulgar ruffian.
'Insolent, am I?--take that, and be d----d to you!' cried the fellow,
raising a heavy bludgeon, and dealing the poor Doctor a blow on the head
which felled him senseless to the ground, covered with blood.
'That'll teach you genteel chaps not to meddle with us _officers_,'
growled the watchman. 'I wonder what he's got about him--perhaps some
dangerous weapon--let's see.' Thrusting his hand into the pockets of his
victim, he drew forth a valuable gold watch, and a purse containing a
considerable sum of money. Why did he so rapidly transfer these articles
to this own pockets? Was if for the purpose of restoring them to the
owner, on the morrow? We shall see.
'I 'spose I'd better lug him to the watch-house,' said the
'officer'--and he struck his club three times on the pavement, which
summoned another 'officer' to his assistance. The two then raising the
wounded man between them, conducted him towards the Tombs.
The Doctor, awaking from his unconsciousness, and feeling himself in the
grasp of the watchman, instantly comprehended the state of affairs, and
shuddered as he thought of his exposure and ruin. The fumes of the wine
which he had drunk, had entirely subsided; but he felt himself weak from
loss of blood, sick from his recent debauch, while the wound on his head
pained him terribly. Oh, how bitterly he deplored his connection with
that depraved woman, who had been the cause of his downfall!
The awful dread of exposure prompted him to appeal to the mercy of his
captors.
'Watchman,' said he, 'pray conduct me to my home, or suffer me to go
there myself, for with shame I confess it, I am a gospel minister, and
wish to avoid exposure.'
The two fellows laughed scornfully. 'Don't think to come that gammon
over us,' said they. 'A minister indeed!--and picked up blind drunk in
the street at midnight!'
'But I have money about me, and will pay you well,' said the Doctor.
The man who had struck him with the club, knowing that he had no money,
affected to be indignant at this attempt to 'bribe an officer,' and
refused to release him.
Oh, hapless fate!--truly the 'way of transgressors is hard.' The learned
and eloquent Dr. Sinclair--the idol of his aristocratic and fashionable
congregation--whose words of piety and holiness were listened to with
attention by admiring thousands every Sabbath day--was incarcerated in
the watch-house! Yes--thrust into a filthy cell, among a swarm of
felons, vile negroes, vagabonds and loafers--the scum of the city!
The cell was about twenty feet square; one half of it was occupied by a
platform, at a height of four feet from the floor. This platform was
called the '_bunk_,' and it was covered with the prostate forms of about
twenty men, including the ragged beggar, the raving drunkard, and the
well-dressed thief--all huddled together, and shivering with the cold,
which was intense. The stone floor of the cell was damp and covered with
filth; yet upon it, and beneath the _bunk_, several wretched beings were
stretched, some cursing each other and themselves, others making the
place resound with hideous laughter, while one was singing, in drunken
tones, a shockingly obscene song.
Into this den of horrors was Dr. Sinclair rudely thrust; for no one
believed his statement that he was a clergyman, and indeed his
appearance, when undergoing the examination of the Captain of the Watch,
was anything but clerical. His face was covered with blood, his clothes
soiled and disordered, his hat crushed, and his manner wild and
incoherent. It is more than probable that, had the Captain known who he
was, he would have ordered his immediate discharge.
Groping his way along the damp, cold walls of his cell, which was in
profound darkness, the Doctor stumbled over a person who was lying upon
the floor, writhing in the agonies of _delirium tremens_. In frantic
rage, this miserable creature seized the rector's leg, and bit it
horribly, causing him to utter a cry of agony, which was responded to by
roars of laughter from the hellish crew. Extricating himself with
difficulty from the fierce clutch of the maniac, the unhappy gentleman
seated himself upon a large iron pipe which ran through the cell, and
prayed for death.
Slowly passed the dreadful night away; and the first faint rays of
morning, struggling through the narrow aperture in the wall, revealed an
appalling sight. Men made hideous and inhuman by vice and wretchedness
lay stretched amid the filth and dampness of that dungeon, glaring at
each other with savage eyes. And soon the awful discovery was made, that
one of their number had, during the night, been frozen to death!
Yes--there, beneath the _bunk_, cold and ghastly, lay the rigid corpse
of a poor fellow creature, whose only crime had been his poverty! Out
upon such justice and such laws, which tolerate such barbarities to one
whose misfortunes should be pitied, not visited by the damnable cruelty
of the base hirelings of a corrupt misgovernment!
It is not our wish to devote much time to the relation of unimportant
particulars; suffice it to say, that Dr. Sinclair was brought before the
police for drunkenness, and was also charged with having violently
assaulted Watchman Squiggs, who had taken him in custody!
'You see, yer honor, I was going my rounds, when up comes this ere chap
and knocks me down, and would have killed me, if I hadn't hit him a
light tap on the head with my club. Then I rapped for help, and--'
'That's enough!' growled the magistrate, who had himself been drunk the
night before, and was made irritable by a severe headache--'that's
enough--he struck an officer--serious offence--looks guilty--old
offender--thief, no doubt--send him up for six months!'
The Doctor whispered a few words in the ear of the magistrate, who
rubbed his eyes and regarded him with a look of astonishment, saying--
'Bless my soul, is it possible? Dr. Sinclair--humph! Sentence is
revoked--you're discharged; the devil!--about to send you up for six
months--a great mistake, upon my word--ha, ha, ha!'
The rector turned to watchman Squiggs, and said to him, sternly--
'Fellow, when I fell into your infernal clutches, I had a watch and
money about me; they are now missing; can you give any account of them?'
The watchman solemnly declared he knew nothing about them! The Doctor
felt no inclination to bandy words with the scoundrel; he paused a
moment to reflect upon the best course to pursue, under the disagreeable
circumstances in which he found himself placed. A feasible plan soon
suggested itself, and leaving the police office, he stepped into a
hackney coach, and requested the driver to convey him with all despatch
to Franklin house. Arrived there, he dismissed the vehicle, and
ascending to Josephine's chamber, explained to her the whole affair, and
threw himself upon a sofa to obtain a few hours' necessary repose.
As soon as he had left the police office, the magistrate whispered to
the watchman--
'Squiggs, I know very well that you took that gentleman's watch and
money. Don't interrupt me--I say, _I know you did_. Well, you must share
the spoils with me.'
'I'll take my oath, yer honor--'
'_Your oath!_--that's a good one!' cried the magistrate, laughing
heartily.--'d'ye think I'd believe you on oath? Why, man, you just now
perjured yourself in swearing that Parson Sinclair assaulted
you--whereas _you_ beat him horribly with your club, with little
provocation, and stole his watch and money. I know you, Squiggs; you
can't gammon me. Once for all, will you share the booty with me?'
The rascal dared not hesitate any longer; so with great reluctance he
drew the plunder from his pocket, and divided it equally with 'his
honor,' who reserved the watch for himself, it being a splendid article,
of great value.
Is any one disposed to doubt the truth of this little sketch? We assure
the reader it is not in the least degree exaggerated. The local
magistracy of New York included many functionaries who were dishonest
and corrupt. Licentiousness was a prominent feature in the characters of
some of these unworthy ministers of justice. Attached to the police
office was a room, ostensibly for the private examination of witnesses.
When a witness happened to be a female, and pretty, 'his honor' very
often passed an hour or so in this room with her, carefully locking the
door to prevent intrusion; and there is every reason to suppose that his
examination of her was both close and searching.
We remember an incident which occurred several years ago, which is both
curious and amusing. A beautiful French girl--a fashionable
courtezan--was taken to the police office, charged with stealing a
lady's small gold watch. Her accuser was positive that she had the
article about her; her pocket, reticule, bonnet, hair, and dress were
searched without success. The rude hand of the officer invaded her
voluptuous bosom, but still without finding the watch. 'Perhaps she has
it in her mouth,' suggested the magistrate; but no, it was not there.
'Where can she have hidden it? I am certain she has it somewhere on her
person,' remarked the accuser. 'I will examine her in private,' quoth
the magistrate, and he directed the girl to follow him into the
adjoining room. His honor locked the door, and said to the fair
culprit--'My dear, where have you concealed the watch?' In the most
charming broken English imaginable, Mademoiselle protested her innocence
of the charge, with such passionate eloquence, that his honor began to
think the accuser must be mistaken. 'At all events,' thought he, 'she is
a sweet little gipsy;' and he forthwith honored her with a shower of
amorous kisses, which she received with the most bewitching _naivete_;
but when he began to make demonstrations of a still more decided nature,
she resisted, though unsuccessfully, for his honor was portly and
powerful, and somewhat 'used to things.' But lo! to his astonishment, he
_discovered the watch_--and in _such_ a place! French ingenuity alone
could have devised such a! method of concealment, and legal research
alone could have discovered it.
We left Dr. Sinclair in the chamber of Josephine, at Franklin House,
reposing after the exciting and disagreeable adventures of the preceding
night. He awoke at noon, somewhat refreshed, and entered a bath while
Josephine sent a servant to purchase a suit of clothes, as those which
he had worn were so soiled and torn as to be unfit for further service.
Reclining luxuriously in the perfumed water of the marble bath, the
Doctor experienced a feeling of repose and comfort. He had long learned
to disregard the 'still, small voice' of his own conscience; and,
provided he could reach his home and answer all inquiries without
incurring suspicion--provided, also, his having been incarcerated in the
watch-house should not be exposed--he was perfectly contented.
His clothes being brought him, he dressed himself, and joining Josephine
in the parlor, partook of a refreshing repast; then, bidding farewell to
his 'lady-love,' he took his departure, and proceeded to his own
residence. In answer to the earnest inquiries of the members of his
household, he stated that he had passed the night with a friend in
Brooklyn; and entering his study, he applied himself to the task of
writing his next Sunday's sermon.