"Well, did you ever see this bag?" I asked, taking it from my pocket,
and handing it to him.
He looked at it but an instant, and said, "Yes; and I guess that's the
man that give me six cents for it; yes, that _is_ the man."
"Well, my good fellow," said I, "I want to find out where you bought
it. That's what I hunted you up to inquire about. I want to find the
man that sold it to you."
The rag-man's memory was good, and he told me where he got the bag. It
was among the last things he purchased the day he sold it to the
coachman; and there was something about it peculiar, in this, that the
rag-man, grumbling a little at the price he had paid for a few pounds
of rags,--some few cents,--the old woman of whom he bought them threw
that in, and told him to "go 'long."
I dismissed the coachman, offering to pay him for his time, but he
would take nothing; and I went on with the rag-man and his striped dog.
But it was slow work, and we had some distance to go; so I assisted him
in getting his cart and dog housed in a livery stable on our course,
and took the cars, and soon found the old woman, a gatherer up of old
odds and ends, living in Bayard Street, just out of the Bowery. She
traded a "good deal," she said, "with William, here" (the rag-man),
"off and on."
I brought the matter of the bag to her notice. She remembered it well;
and the next thing was to ask where she got it. That she could tell me,
too. She had a daughter living in a building in Pine Street, below
William, and it was she who sold it to her mother, with a lot of old
rags and papers. "It comed to me," said she, "in the pile I had from
her."
On inquiry, I found that the purchase had been made, as near as I could
calculate, about three days after the robbery. I employed the old woman
to go down to introduce me to her daughter, whom I found to be a very
good, honest woman, who got a living by cleaning down-town offices,
while her husband did a little private watching, now and then, and
helped "along shore" a little.
The woman being introduced to me by her mother, who said I was an old
friend of hers (as I had asked her to; for I had given her some slight
hint of why I wanted to learn where the daughter got the bag, and had
paid her beforehand for her time in waiting on me), made ready reply to
my queries.
"Yes, yes; now I do remember," said she, scratching her forehead in a
peculiar way with her stubbed fingers, "where I got that; it was that
sassy brat in ----'s office gin it to me."
"Where's that?"
Her reply gave me the number of a broker's office in Wall Street, and
things began at once to shape themselves in my mind. If I had not been
a detective, I might have been surprised; but it was easy now to form
an intelligible theory. I did not know this man, and made no inquiries
about him of the woman; but I asked her how the boy came to give it to
her.
"He ain't a young boy," replied she; "he's full-growed, and has got
whiskers,--side whiskers,--but he's full of old Ned, and acts like a
boy, poking fun all the while; and I call him a boy. Well, he gin it to
me one night,--let's see,"--and she went over the list of names of
offices where she had worked, and said, "Yes, it was Friday,"--fixing a
time just the day after the robbery. She was there, it seems, just
after business hours were over, to clean the room. Her day there was
Saturday, generally, instead of Friday, and she went three times a week
usually, and washed and mopped. Being a jolly woman, she was bantering
with the "boy" (clerk), as she called him, who had staid to lock up
after her. The clerk had thrown some old papers upon her, which he gave
her to carry off, and she'd made a wad of some of them, and thrown them
back to him; and so they had "smouched" each other,--as she termed that
sort of play,--when just as she was going out, the clerk seized this
bag from under the counter, and threw it, rolled up, at her head. She
seized it, and said, "Thank you; this will do to bile puddings in; I'll
take it."
"Take it, Sarah," said he; "and we'll call it quits for now," as she
left the office.
That was her circumstantial account. I was glad, of course, to find her
memory so clear. There was no mistaking that evidence. The next step
was to make the acquaintance of that boy, or clerk; and to do so, I
went next day into the broker's office to get some money changed. The
clerk was in; and after doing my business, I got into some conversation
with him,--for I had taken an early hour when I knew there would be few
customers in. I found him apparently an excellent young man,
good-hearted, intelligent, and honest, I thought. His employer was not
in; but I called at a later hour of the day, having watched the
premises, and seen the clerk go out on some errand, and got some money
changed by the broker; and I studied him as well as I could. He was a
wiry man, of medium size, with much determination in his face,
indicated particularly by one of those protruding chins, which disclose
not only force of character, but the ability to do mean, desperate
things.
My mind was made up that the broker was the man who stole the
money--such was my fixed opinion; and now how to trap him. The clerk
was an honest young man; of that I was quite satisfied. The broker
could not, I thought, be doing a large business, and his face did not
indicate that liberality which would allow his giving his clerk (and he
had but one, in his little basement den of an office) a large salary,
and I made up my mind that the first step was to get the clerk out of
that office into some other place, by giving him a larger salary.
At this juncture of affairs I sought the president, and told him that I
had traced the matter into a Wall Street broker's office; but did not
at that time tell him where; that there was a clerk in the office who
was evidently a very nice and efficient fellow, and that I wanted to
get him out of there as the next step; that he was surely a good
penman, and probably a first-rate bookkeeper; and he must find a place
for him, and I would try to get him out.
To this the president quickly consented, and told me to call next day,
and he would have some place or other for him, among some of his
friends. We discussed what a clerk probably got a year in such a place;
and decided that two hundred dollars more would be bribe enough for
him. "And I'll do better than that for him, if necessary," said the
president. "Now tell me who this broker is, if you please."
I declined to tell him then, for I wished to get my evidence a little
more certain. I called the next day as he told me, and found that he
had been active, and had secured three or four places for the young
man, should I find it necessary to get him into one. I lost no time in
coming upon the young man that day, as he went out to his customary
lunch, and walked along with him, managing to address myself to his
jocose nature, and we sat beside each other on stools at the
restaurant. I went out with him, and a part of the way to his office
with him too, when, stopping suddenly, I said,--
"I must go another way; hope to meet you again;" and drawing my
handkerchief suddenly from the outer breast pocket of my coat, as if to
wipe my mouth, flirted out with it some tickets, three of them to
Wallack's Theatre, with which I had prepared myself for the purpose.
These were "complimentaries," with which I was not unfrequently
supplied, in view of some services I had once rendered Mr. James
Wallack, in a matter involving no small amount of jewels, etc.
I picked up the tickets as they fell to the pavement, and, said I,
"This is providential for you, perhaps. I see you like fun; there's a
good comedy on to-night; would you like to go?" handing him one of the
tickets. "And here's another; may be you'd like to take your lady."
"Ho, ho!" said he, "that's generous; but I won't take but one, for I
haven't any lady to take."
"Well, give one to some friend, and take him along;" but he declined,
and the upshot of the matter was, that he agreed to meet me at the
Metropolitan that night, and go with me. I told him to keep his
tickets, and bring along any friend. But he came alone, and I was glad
of it. The play was excellent, and between acts we discussed it. I
fancied I had gotten well into his good graces before it was over; and
when it was, we walked out, and along Broadway together, and stopped
once or twice and "lemonaded." The young man was temperate, as I was
glad to find--all the better witness--and before he reached home that
night, I managed to find out all about his salary, etc., and had told
him that a young man of his parts ought to have a better place. He felt
so too, of course; but said it was hard to find, as he had no friends
to help him. Unfortunately, he said, all his relatives in New York were
of the medium class of people in money matters; and his father, who was
a Methodist minister, and had some influence with his people when
living, had died some five years before, and these church people had
pretty much forgotten them.
I found that, from the latitude the president had given me, I could
offer the young man a salary that astonished him. He said he could
leave his employer at any time, with one day's notice, for there were
calls every day for employment by clerks. Suffice it that in four days
from that time I had the young man installed as bookkeeper in a house
where he got nearly double his former salary. Besides, in my going
about with him, I had fished out facts enough in the career of the
broker, his old employer, to convince me that he was all I had taken
him for.
Finally, I went back to the president, and told him whom I suspected,
and what my evidence was, and that I had not yet said anything to the
young man about the bag or about him; and we arranged it that the young
man should be invited to his house by me the next night; which was
done, and he accompanied me. The president had prepared a room for a
private conference, and after I had introduced the young man to the
president, and informed him that he, and not I, was his benefactor, to
whom the young man expressed his gratitude, I took up a paper from off
the table on which I had placed it, and under which I had slyly tucked
the bag. I had gotten the young man seated near the table. As I lifted
the paper, and noticed the bag with its peculiar mark on it, I said to
the president,--
"Beg pardon, Mr. ----, but this singular device excited my curiosity;"
and I took up the bag and looked at it. "Allow me to ask what it is."
"O," said he, "it's a sort of private coat of arms. 'Tis a little
curious, isn't it?" and he commented on it; and I, as a matter of
politeness, passed it to the young man, asking, "Did you ever see
anything like it before?"
"No, not that I know of," said he; "and yet there's something familiar
to me about this bag," and he turned it over. "No, I never saw this
device upon anything!" and he laid it down, and the conversation
dropped on that point, and we fell into conversation about his old
employer, the amount of his business, his habits, and so forth, and it
was easy to see that he had no great respect for him. Finally I led on
to the matter of having seen the jolly scrubber there, the woman Sarah,
to whom he had given the bag; and finding she proved to be all right, I
said to him, "Sarah gave me that bag, and that bag got you your present
place, through the kindness of Mr. ---- here."
The young man looked astonished, with a question in his eye, as if
asking me to explain----.
"Well, I will explain. You remember one day (fixing the time), that,
after office hours, when she came there to scrub, you and she got into
a frolic, and threw things at each other?"
"O, yes," said he, "very well; and I hauled the bag out from under the
counter, and threw it at her."
"Just so; that's her story too. And now I wish to ask you if you knew
how that bag got under the counter?"
"Why, certainly. Mr. ----" (his employer, the broker), "took it out of
his pocket a day or two before, and tucked it under there."
"What was his condition that day? that is, what was his health?"
"O, that was one of his nervous days, and he was much excited."
"What did he place this bag with there--what's there?"
"There's a shelf there; and the day I gave it to Sarah, I had been
putting some papers there, and pulled it out, and remembered it."
"Then he wouldn't be apt to see it, to remind him of its being there?"
"No, sir, not unless he stooped down to get something there."
It was evident to me, then, how the broker had forgotten it. We managed
to make inquiries enough to satisfy ourselves that the broker was much
excited at that time, and that he about the same time had made purchase
of some building lots in "East New York," on Long Island, for he
speculated in real estate somewhat, and was a pretty close man, and
"rich enough," as the young man thought.
We had obtained all the evidence we were likely to, and the young man
and I left, he being in ignorance of how and to what end we had gotten
that bag there. The next step was to get at the broker. We examined
into his real estate, and found the young man right in his
judgment--the broker was well off. We laid many plans; and he wanted to
secure the money, and it wouldn't answer to do things by halves. Our
broker was a desperate man, but a nervous one, and I thought the best
way was to take the lion by his mane. So, stalking into his office,--I
being well armed,--I invited him into his little back room, having
placed the president near the office, to come in a minute after me. I
engaged the broker in conversation for half a minute, and then suddenly
pulling out the bag, asked him (nodding my head towards the other
little front room where the new clerk was); and saying, "No noise,
unless you are disposed to make it," I asked,--
"Did you ever see that before, sir?"
He reached his hand for it, turning pale.
"No, I never saw it."
"Do you know whose it is?"
"No, I don't," half stammering, but with an air of decision. Luckily,
just at this time, the president stalked in.
"Here's a man who will tell you whose it is," said I; and holding it up
to the president, I asked, "Whose is this bag?"
"Mine," said he; "but the gold that was taken with it was the ----
Bank's," as he eyed Mr. ----, the broker, sternly; "and you are the man
who took it."
"I protest," said the broker, "that I never saw that bag before;" but
his manner showed guilt.
"Well," said I, "that's a question of evidence. Excuse me for a moment,
and be calm;" and I stepped to the door, and nodded to the old clerk to
come in. He came, and the broker's astonishment was evidently great.
"Did you ever see that before? and where did you first see it?" I asked
of the clerk.
"In Mr. ----'s" (the broker's) "hands."
"Where did he take it from, and what did he do with it?"
The young man told his simple story; and I told him we would relieve
him, and away he went, still ignorant of the theft, but probably
wondering what it all meant.
I then said to the broker, "You are most thoroughly caught. That young
man is only one of our witnesses, and he does not know of your theft
yet. You are surrounded on all sides, and I advise you to send your
clerk out on business, and settle up matters here at once. We want the
money back, and pay for our time."
There was a momentary struggle in the broker's heart. He was very pale,
and his firm set chin quivered for a moment. He evidently took in the
whole situation of affairs; but I thought I would not leave him wholly
to his unaided reflections, and I remarked, for it was all clear now,
of course, how the thing had been done:--
"From the hour that you personated a clerk, and coolly walked behind
the desk and took the money, you must understand that you were
known--recognized; but we needed further proof to convict you. The bag
has supplied that," (and I saw, as I spoke, that a light went over his
countenance, as if some purpose of his soul had suddenly changed). "Had
we followed you up at once, and found this gold, we could not have
identified it; and we have followed you, therefore, with tireless
patience, and would have pursued you for a year yet. You see your
condition. We do not wish to prosecute you criminally, unless you force
us to do so. You may have stolen the money under a pressure, or in some
hour of temptation, which would never come again. We want our money and
pay for our time, as I have said; and we do not propose to delay at
all. Do you understand me?"
The broker quivered for a moment. There was a struggle of pride in his
soul which he gratified with an oath, which I will not repeat here,
condemning his folly and himself to the "bottomless pit," and then he
sank back in his chair, and tears filled his eyes.
"Gentlemen," said he, "I give it up. You are very lenient. That gold
has cursed me every day. I was a madman that day. Had been drinking a
little. It was only one stout glass of brandy, though, for I seldom
touch a drop" (which I know to be true). "I had a month before read a
story in a London paper which ---- sent me" (naming a well-known broker
of Wall Street, who had gone to Europe on business), "narrating the
like exploit of a bold thief. I found myself often thinking of his
daring, and that day the fiend got hold of me. It was but the work of a
moment. I was near the ---- ---- ---- Bank. I stepped in, and saw many
there; stuck my hat in here" (within his vest, a small slouched hat);
"and before I knew it, the thing was done. There's my confession. Do
with me what you please. I have often resolved to restore the money;
but I have as often failed, for fear that somehow I'd get found out."
"Well, we are satisfied," said I; "and all we want is what I have
asked."
"Of course it shall be done; but for God's sake you must forgive me,
and forever conceal my name, for I never can do such a thing again. I
have suffered too much from it."
"The matter has been concealed from everybody except the clerks in the
bank, who are pledged to secrecy; not even your own clerk knows that
any money has been lost, and nobody but Mr. ----" (the president) "and
me has any suspicion of you. We wanted to get the money more than we
wanted you."
"I am ready to settle now," said he.
But he had not on hand all the money we wanted; but before two hours
were over proper deeds, in due legal form and execution, conveyed to
the president, in personal mortgage, at least five times as much as was
needed to make up the deficit in cash. This proved the most lucrative
job for me which I ever "worked up," and the bank got back all its
money, with interest thereon.
It only remains for me to say, that that broker became an "altered man"
in some respects. I did not like his countenance, and I did not believe
his expressions of penitence fully. There was a dark, bad "streak" in
his nature, I thought; but he has committed no more robberies, I
suspect, unless they were done in his capacity of member of the Common
Council, to which body he was afterwards elected, having left Wall
Street, and entered upon other than the broker's business, and turned a
ward politician. But let not other thieves, therefore, nourish hope
from the example of his good (or bad) fortune.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
$1,250,000, OR THE PRIVATE MARK.
--------------
MONEY-GETTING AS RELATED TO CRIME--A VERY STRANGE HISTORY--THE
MOST WONDROUS PURSUIT OF A MAN BY HIS ENEMY WHICH EVER
(PROBABLY) WAS KNOWN IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD--JAMES WILLIAM
HUBERT ROGERS AND "NED" HAGUE, TWO ENGLISHMEN--"DAMON AND
PYTHIAS" IN EARLY LIFE--A CHANGE COMES--A DEPARTED AND
CONSIDERATE UNCLE DESCRIBED, ONCE A PROTEGE OF THE EMPEROR OF
AUSTRIA--OLIVER CROMWELL HAGUE, A RICH INDIA MERCHANT--A
MARVELOUS SEARCH FOR A LOST MAN--A MAN FOUND AND IDENTIFIED BY
NUMEROUS FRIENDS AS THE ONE IN QUESTION--PLOTTING AND
COUNTER-PLOTTING--A SHREWD VERMONT "LAWYER" MAKES A THOUSAND
POUNDS STERLING--THE INDEFATIGABLE ROGERS COMES TO AMERICA IN
HIS SEARCH--LOST IN THE VASTNESS OF THE COUNTRY--WE MEET, AND
DEPART FOR ST. LOUIS--TROUBLES, AND AN ENLIGHTENING DREAM--A
WICKED LAWYER--THE RIGHT TO REPENT--A SPIRITED COLLOQUY WITH
THE LAWYER--AN ENEMY FOUND AND SET TO WORK--THE GRASPING LAWYER
OUTWITTED--THE LOST FOUND IN A TERRIBLE CONDITION--A LITTLE
PRIVATE FUN OVER THE LAWYER'S DISCOMFITURE--A SHARP EXAMINATION
AND CROSS-EXAMINATION--LAWYER OUTWITTED, AND LOSES FIVE HUNDRED
DOLLARS--MR. ROGERS DEPARTS WITH THE "LOST ONE," BOUND FOR
ENGLAND--THE SUDDEN DROWNING OF THE LATTER AT SEA--THE
CHERISHED VICTORY OF YEARS VANISHES--OUT, WITH A LAUGH.
The "battle of life" has so many phases, and my own experiences have
run in so many channels, and my knowledge of human curiosity is so
extensive, and my desire in these papers to gratify the same so great,
that I am at a loss, as I turn over my diaries and notes of other
histories of the past years to-day, what to select from my notes next;
for, whatever disposition my publishers may make of this in the
arrangement of these chapters, this is really one of the very last of
them all in the order of writing, and one of the very last in point of
fact, which I shall ever enlarge from my notes into current narrative.
But my notes are so full, that my friends, after I am gone, should they
desire to put before the world a supplement of these experiences, will
have but little trouble--that, simply, of telling the tales in their
own style. But it strikes me that the reader must feel, as he reads,
something of the interest I felt as an actor, in part, in the scenes
which it narrates.
Of the "battle of life," then, no phase can well be of so much interest
to the great majority as that of money-getting. This absorbs
everything, and is, in fact, the great source of nine tenths, at least,
of all human crimes. But "money-getting," as well as wealth itself, has
its "different sides,"--its positive and comparative, I might almost
say, negative characteristics. Wealth, in one locality, would be
comparative poverty in another; that is, the amount of money which
constitutes a man "wealthy" in a far off country town, would be sneered
at as a very trifle in this great metropolis, New York; would hardly be
enough to support the possessor for a year among the moderate livers of
the city, with their luxury and indulgences, which cost so much more
than those of the country.
I said that money-getting is comparative also. It is, in this sense.
The envious wrestler for the smiles of the "Money God" has not only his
positive work to do, but often feels it as much his duty to defeat
others as to win himself; as the driver of the winning horse at the
races often succeeds only by defeating his competitor's
horse--"breaking him up," for example, by some more or less honorable
mode--any mode which the rules of the race do not absolutely forbid. So
in this case I am about to recite--the most wonderful hunt, perhaps,
and the most exciting and long-continued, and replete with ludicrous,
solemn, dangerous, as well as joyful incidents, which ever
characterized any cause, and was carried on literally around the globe,
inspired and sustained by the desire of a man, a rich man, not to
profit by it himself, but to defeat his enemy and keep him poor, that
he might not become a competitor with him, as a man of wealth, for the
smiles, adulations, and sycophancies of the peasant, and small farming
and mercantile population of a little town in England.
The name of this strange man was James William Hubert Rogers, which he
always wrote out in full, with true English pride, even when
subscribing the shortest letter, as well as a five thousand pound
promissory note. He reminded me in this of sundry gentlemen I have met,
of our sister city, Boston, who, proud of the "Athens of America," take
greatest pains in entering their full names--though frequently the
initial of the first, and the middle name, if any, in full, in the
dandaical style--in hotel registers. "J. Adams Bromfield," "H. Gray
Otis Ticknor," with BOSTON "displayed" (as the printers would say) over
as much space as possible, as if it would surely reflect credit on the
person himself.
James William Hubert Rogers was a peculiar man. I have thought that his
history, even the comparatively little I know of it, would be one of
the most interesting biographies ever published; but I do not intend to
give more of it here than will be necessary to make this narrative
connected and clear. Mr. Rogers had been brought up in moderate
circumstances, educated to mercantile life in a small way, in a country
place in Yorkshire. Prior to being apprenticed, at seventeen years of
age, to a merchant, he had constantly attended school from about the
age of six years; and whether at the "infant school," or the private
classical school of some pretensions, had been as constantly attended
by a bosom friend, just "one day and one hour older" than he, as their
respective mothers were wont to tell them. This person's name was "Ned"
Hague; (whether he, too, had a list of other cumbrous names I never
asked, but I presume he had, and I wonder such a burden does not spoil
the disposition of children--perhaps it does.) James and Ned played
together, romped, studied, and all that together; as children, were
inseparable, in short. The one, "Ned," was described to me as a very
handsome fellow, and very athletic. James was equally athletic, but was
less handsome in face; in fact, though his features were all well
enough formed, and there was a hardy look about his face, yet there was
a something in his expression of countenance which was at times very
repulsive to me; a dogged, unfeeling look, not simply spiteful, but
somehow of unwearying, cool-blooded vengeance; yet he was always kind
and generous to me throughout our acquaintance. "Ned" came into the
world under a little better auspices than James, that is, his parents
were a little "better off," and lived in a house which they owned, a
little more stylish than that which James's parents occupied, but
rented. However, James's father was a better business man than Ned's
father, and earned a larger salary. So things were balanced; but James
confessed to me that he used, on account of the better house, to be a
particle envious of Ned's condition in their childhood, but this was
all the ill-feeling he ever had towards him in those days. But James
went to mercantile life at seventeen; and a year after, "Ned," having
quite an aptitude for writing, connected himself with a small
provincial newspaper. The young men continued their intimacy, which was
carried into their love affairs as well as into everything else, until
they arrived at the age of twenty-three, when there came an
"interruption" of their mutual affection, which finally degenerated
into mutual dislike, and upon the part of James, whom we will now call
Mr. Rogers, into unforgiving, implacable hate. What was the precise
cause of this I was never informed in detail, but I learned the general
facts from a friend of Mr. Rogers's, whom I met in England some two
years after I first made his acquaintance. From all I could gather,
there was really no sensible reason for the great enmity which came to
exist between these men. But this is not a part of the story, properly,
and I must pass it over.
Years went on, and Mr. Rogers and Mr. Hague continued to live near each
other. The latter abandoned his steady connection with the newspapers,
though he continued to write for the press more or less, and went into
business with an old apothecary, and finally succeeded to his whole
business at his death. He was more fortunate, for years, than was Mr.
Rogers, who, however, managed to live comfortably, and to add
considerably to his possessions. During these years, and after their
quarrel commenced, the dislike of these men grew into a sort of silent
hatred. They had but little to say of each other, but what they did say
was crispy with bitterness. Those who remembered their early-life's
affection, were astonished that anything could have wrought such an
enmity; for both of these men were considered honorable and upright in
their dealings with their fellow-men, and were genial citizens, of
democratic tastes and associations.
But finally Mr. Rogers became suddenly very rich, through a legacy left
him by a quaint old uncle, the brother of his mother, who, in Mr.
Rogers's boyhood, had taken a fancy to him. The uncle was a deformed
man,--a little in the order of Richard Third,--and this might be said
of him, mentally as well as physically. He was competent to have filled
the British throne with more credit than many a monarch who has sitten
upon it. But Henry De Noyelles (for that was the uncle's name--sprung
from an old Norman stock) had curious deformities of face, which
excited great ridicule among the heartless. His eyes could not be said
to be "crossed" exactly, but something worse, and his nose was oddly
shaped, besides being very flexible, and it flapped about as if there
was "no bone in it," as the people used to say of it.
Mr. De Noyelles was naturally a proud-spirited man, who felt that,
intellectually, he was no man's inferior by nature, and his deformities
stung him to the quick. He was a great mechanic naturally, very
ingenious and executive; had a rare force for acquiring languages and
the sciences; and, driven from society by his deformity and his wounded
pride, he occupied his hours out of business with constant reading, and
his acquirements in literature became large. He devoted himself
considerably in his youth to mathematical studies, and had a great
proclivity to civil engineering. He inherited a moderate fortune from
his father, and after becoming of age, and feeling that he was
ridiculed among his fellow-townsmen, became morose, and learned to hate
all English people, and finally betook himself to the Continent, and
soon, in some way, attracted the attention of the Emperor of Austria,
who gave him place at last as a Superintendent of Engineers, in which
capacity his inventive genius served him, and in the course of a few
years he became one of the most able operators in Europe, and, enjoying
an interest in many valuable contracts, acquired, at last, a vast
fortune. Ill-looking that he was, there were elegant women enough ready
to marry him for his position and money. But he remained a bachelor,
partly through fear of women, whom he looked upon as lacking in
conscience, and none of whom, he felt, could really love such a looking
creature as he. But he had another reason, which would have decided
him, if nothing else had done so. It was this--and when I was told of
it, I confess that I felt more respect for the good in humanity than I
had ever done before. He said he was unfit for marriage, since he was
unfit to be a father; that it were very possible that a child of his
would inherit his deformities, especially that of the nose, and that
the wealth of all Europe would not induce him to be instrumental in
inflicting life upon a being who might suffer as he had done. Indeed,
he held peculiar notions upon this subject in general; and taking
Malthus's notions in regard to a possible over-peopling of the globe,
and the direful consequences thereof, as a basis to write upon, he
dilated his views into a small book, which, however, both the Catholic
and Protestant doctors of Austria so seriously condemned as heretical,
that he came near losing his official position under the government.
But I digress again. Mr. De Noyelles, or as he was called in Austria,
for his great learning, Dr. De Noyelles, fell in love with young
Rogers, because the boy exhibited an affection for him, and never
seemed to be conscious of his uncle's deformities, but treated him as
affectionately and obediently as he did his own handsome mother, and
noble-looking, symmetrical father, or anybody else. Mr. Rogers had paid
his uncle, at the latter's invitation and expense, a short annual
visit, for some years, and when Dr. De Noyelles came to die, it was
found that he had privately visited England, where the great bulk of
his funds was invested, the year before, and had made his will largely
in favor of Mr. Rogers, after contributing to sundry charities in a
large and generous way, and providing moderately for his sister's (Mr.
Rogers's mother) other children.
So Mr. Rogers got to be extremely wealthy; and though it was said of
him, by his old neighbors in general, that his great fortune did not
seem to make him vain as a man, or render him less approachable than
before, it was evident that he prized his good luck most of all for the
contrast which it established between him--now the man of abundant
leisure and great wealth--and Mr. Hague, still the plodding, though
well-to-do, apothecary. In various ways he made, or tried to make, Mr.
Hague feel this, but it would seem that the latter gentleman was very
imperturbable, and took things quite coolly.
Mr. Rogers set up another apothecary in business, at a point near Mr.
Hague's shop, and provided him with a large shop, with brilliant
appointments and a large stock, and he caused him to sell cheaper than
Mr. Hague could afford to. Indeed, it was said that Mr. Rogers lost
some two thousand pounds the first year, in thus going into competition
with Mr. Hague; but he persevered. In England it is not an easy thing
to draw away customers from an old house where the people can rely upon
honest dealings; but Mr. Rogers was bent on doing Mr. Hague all the
harm he could. Of course he did not let the public know that he was at
the bottom of the matter.
The apothecary, whom he provided with means, came from Liverpool, and
Mr. Rogers was at first supposed to have given him only his custom and
countenance in trade. But Mr. Hague suspected him from the first; and
as things developed, and he became sure of Mr. Rogers's financial
support of his rival, Mr. Hague whispered the matter to his own
friends, who came, to some extent, to his aid. So the competition
became spirited at last, and Mr. Hague found it difficult to contend
with his competitor.
Little by little his business frittered away, and he was barely able to
meet his current expenses. Mr. Rogers evidently gloated over the
downfall of his once bosom friend, now hated enemy; but he _said_ never
a word against him, seldom spoke of him at all. Meanwhile Mr. Rogers
surrounded himself with all luxuries; bought a splendid old mansion and
its magnificent grounds, which he greatly improved, and though not a
gaudy man, was vain enough to consult a herald office, and look up a
coat of arms for his coach panels and the trappings of his horses'
harnesses. He took a great delight in riding after his splendid horses
along by the comfortable, but comparatively humble, house of Mr. Hague,
and in arraying his wife and children in an attire too costly, not only
for Mr. Hague, but any of his neighbors to attempt to imitate. Mr.
Rogers enjoyed this kind of mean spite and low pride for considerable
time, but there came a turn in affairs.
Thirty years before these days of which I was last speaking, Oliver
Hague, or rather Oliver Cromwell Hague,--for he was named after the
great Pretender, by his mother, the stanchest of all Protestants, and
who was very proud of her ancestors' service under the great Oliver,--a
then quite thriving London merchant, went out to India to extend his
business there, with the purpose of returning in a year or so; but he
remained there. His brother Edward, after whom _our_ Mr. Hague was
named, conducted the London end of the business, and the house grew
rich very fast.
Mr. Edward was older than Oliver, and was at the time of Oliver's
departure a married man, and the father of some five or six children.
Meanwhile all these children but two died, and one of the others had
proved a wild, graceless fellow, and at the early age of sixteen, after
sundry dissipations, had fled to America. But little had been heard
from him by his family for years, and when Mr. Oliver made his will, he
had provided for this boy,--now man, if he could be found,--otherwise,
what would come to him (his name was Frederic), was to go to
Edward,--the "Ned" of our story,--mostly to himself, and one part in
trust for his younger brother and his sisters, for he was the eldest
child of the family. Mr. Oliver Hague set aside a certain sum, which
was to be used in the search for Frederic, if necessary. All reasonable
means of finding him were to be exhausted, and then, upon satisfactory
report to the court,--for the search was directed to be made by persons
"of good and faithful disposition," as the will read,--that its
directions had been followed unavailingly, then the property was to be
decreed to be Edward's, whether Frederic were really living or not,
Edward to provide him an expressed and generous annuity in case he
should thereafter come to light. The will provided, too, that Frederic,
if found, should give Edward a like annuity.
Great search was made for Frederic. I should say here that the senior
Edward and his son William had gone out to India to visit Oliver, and
had died there before Oliver's death, and that all the business of the
house of Oliver C. Hague & Brother had been really that of Oliver
alone, his brother having been contented with a simple commission, in
their private contract, expecting to succeed, at some time, to the
whole business when Oliver should die, as he expected, years before
him, as he was many years older than he. Numerous advertisements were
inserted in the papers of the United States and Canada, and every
possible means taken to find Frederic, even to sending a man to
Australia, where, by one account, it was said that Frederic had gone
years before.
A messenger was sent to the United States, too, with instruction to
visit the various cities, and to advertise as largely as possible,
engage detective policemen when practical, etc. And the messenger did
his work thoroughly as he went on. Months rolled away, and the weekly
communications of the messenger added no light to the whereabouts, or
the existence even, of Frederic Hague--they only gave assurance of
where he was _not_.
Meanwhile Mr. Edward Hague kept on in the even tenor of his way,
doubtless hoping that Frederic would not be found, or, perhaps, wishing
that he had "gone to heaven long before." But every day Mr. Edward's
neighbors grew more and more gratulatory of him on the probable fortune
coming to him, and his good luck of the annuity at least, but of which
he would obtain nothing till it was sure that Frederic was found, or
could not be discovered. Mr. Edward, I was told, showed excellent sense
during those days, and did not allow himself to be moved to vanity in
his hopes. As time went on he became, of course, more certain in his
opinion that Frederic would not be found.
But there was one man who took a fierce interest in this business. He
became nervous over it. His enmity towards many increased; in fact, he
began to hate the whole world, that it did not deliver up Frederic
Hague to life and light; and that man was James Williams Hubert Rogers.
He could not bear the thought that his old enemy, "Ned" Hague, should
come into the possession of a fortune reputed, at that time, to be
vastly larger than his own, and which proved, on the settlement of the
estate, more than twice as large as his, being, in minimum, two hundred
and fifty thousand pounds. There were certain contingent interests
which swelled it a good deal. A million and a quarter of dollars
constituted no mean estate, and Mr. Rogers could not bear to be thrown
into the shade by it, in the hands of one he hated, too. So he
interested himself in the matter, opening private correspondence with
sundry persons he knew in the United States, and well he got come up
with for his pains.
There was residing, somewhere in Vermont, a lawyer, who had interested
himself on behalf of persons residing in America, and entitled to
property in chancery, etc., in England. To his knowledge came the fact
of this search for Frederic Hague, and Mr. Rogers's interest in it, and
he managed, through some London friend of his, to have himself named to
Mr. Rogers as just the man to hunt up Frederic. "If anybody _can_ find
him _he_ can," so said the London friend. Mr. Rogers opened
correspondence with the Vermont lawyer, and the result was that, in the
course of a few months, the lawyer succeeded in finding Mr. Frederic
Hague,--"a sickly man," as he described him,--who, having been through
all sorts of vicissitudes in life, had settled down in an obscure town
in upper New York State. This man, the lawyer found, answered to all
the descriptions of Mr. Hague which had been elicited from the
correspondence of Mr. Rogers.
It was agreed that the greatest efforts should be made to restore this
man to health, and send him over to England to claim his property. Mr.
Rogers was more than delighted. He sent to the lawyer to have a
detailed statement made by Mr. Frederic Hague, and sworn to, as to what
he remembered of his life in England, and what experiences he had
undergone since, down to the hour; all of which was duly made out, and
forwarded to Mr. Rogers, who was perfectly satisfied with the same, and
indulged himself with secretly gloating over the terrible defeat which
was to come to Mr. Edward Hague, who, by this time, was confident that
Frederic would never be found; and he enjoined secrecy on the Vermont
lawyer; he wanted all the glory himself; and he wished to have Frederic
there in England, and present him to the commissioners who had the
matter in hand, before it was known that he had been found.
In his statement, Frederic had disclosed that he had married rather
late in life, and had a small family dependent upon him; and as he got
better, and was about ready to depart for England, the lawyer wrote to
Mr. Rogers, representing the dependent circumstances of Mr. Hague's
family, and asking a loan for him of two thousand pounds, and asking
also for a hundred pounds for his own services. Mr. Rogers thought this
moderate enough, and forwarded to the lawyer, through the British
consulate in New York, a check for two thousand one hundred pounds,
with the form of a note for Frederic to sign to cover the two thousand
pounds; and the lawyer and Mr. Hague appeared duly at the consulate,
and received the money.
It afterwards appeared that this Mr. Frederic received only one
thousand dollars of the sum, besides his expenses to and from England.
The lawyer made sure of the rest. The man went over, and played his
part as Frederic Hague for a time, quite successfully, and it is
possible that he might have succeeded, for he found several old people
who identified him as the Frederic, and were ready to swear to their
memory of him. But an old American friend and former schoolmate of the
man chanced to come across him when in company with some persons
interested in the estate he was after,--one of whom chanced to be
Edward Hague, who was himself deceived,--and the American gentleman
rushed up to him, overjoyed to meet him on foreign soil, exclaiming,
"Why, Dick Clapp, how _do_ you do? What on earth can have brought you
over here?"
Clapp was for an instant taken aback, but rallied, denied his name, and
declared that the American gentleman was mistaken, etc.; and this he
did, unhappily for him, in such an ungracious way, as made his old
friend angry.
"Dick Clapp!" said he, "I hope you are not over here on business you
are ashamed of. I swear you _are_ Dick Clapp, and I went to school with
you and your brother James, and your sisters Mary, Adeline, and
Isabella, in the good old town of Putney. Now, if you are here up to
anything you ought to be ashamed of, you should have given me the wink
when you denied yourself, and not acted so like a d--d hog."
There was no mistaking the American's conviction that he knew Mr.
Clapp, and Mr. Edward Hague called the man aside, and told him what
this Mr. Frederic Hague had come over for. The American was indignant,
and offered to prove Clapp's identity at his own expense; said he would
send over to America for witnesses to come out, and identify him, and
then went and told Clapp he had better get out of the country as soon
as he could, or he would expose him through the press of the United
States. Clapp defied him; but it was too evident to all present that he
was an impostor, and it is supposed that when Mr. Rogers came to hear
of the fact, he felt as if the Yankee lawyer had been too shrewd for
him.
It afterwards appeared that Rogers had not been carrying on the
correspondence with _the_ lawyer he supposed to be his correspondent.
Some other lawyer had assumed the real lawyer's name, and given it an
initial letter of a middle name. The London friend had not discovered
or thought of this, and was himself imposed upon (he who commended the
Yankee lawyer to Mr. Rogers). So when Mr. Rogers afterwards instituted
proceedings against a certain Vermont lawyer to recover the amount of
the swindle, he found he had been dealing with some other man--an
"unknown" and unknowable.
Clapp got out of England at his early convenience, and the search of
Frederic was about being given up; but during the excitement in regard
to Clapp, an account of what was going on reached an old playmate of
Frederic's, living some twenty miles away from where Mr. Edward Hague
lived, and this man remembered that one time, when he and Edward, as
boys of about eight years of age, were playing in the loft of an old
carriage-house, Edward, jumping from a beam, had got his foot entangled
in something, and fell slantingly upon the teeth of a kind of
hatchel,--and terribly lacerated the flesh on the back portion of his
left shoulder, tearing the flesh, in fact, nearly off from the scapular
bone. This wound, he said, left great scars. He had, in after years,
frequently been bathing with Frederic, and knew that he must bear these
scars for life. He therefore wrote to Mr. Edward Hague that Frederic
could be identified by that "private mark," and Mr. Edward gave
publicity to the fact, and quite a number of people then called the
facts to mind.
It so happened that in the correspondence Mr. Rogers had heard of a man
in Missouri who said he was the Frederic Hague, and gave a pretty good
account of matters before he left England, and had told Mr. Rogers's
correspondent, a lawyer, of this very incident of the injury in the
carriage-house, and stated that he had borne the scars of it all his
life since. This had been communicated to Rogers, but the lawyer had
added, in his letter, that, on the whole, he did not believe the man's
story; that he had, as near as he could learn, been a gambler; had
lived much, too, among the Indians; was a drunkard, and much broken
down, and quite incoherent in his memory. Still he sometimes thought
that he was, after all, the Frederic Hague so much wanted, but he could
not conscientiously advise Mr. Rogers to spend any money on him.
When the fact of Frederic's "private mark" was called to mind, Rogers
again took heart, and searched his papers for the lawyer's letters, but
they could not be found. He fancied to himself that perhaps some secret
emissary of Edward Hague had been rifling his papers, and he got into
torrents of anger over it, till at last he swore he would trust no man,
and would go out to America himself to find Frederic Hague, "and
restore him to his lawful rights." His friends remonstrated, pointed
him to the perils of the sea, the sickly character of a great portion
of our Western States, etc.; but the hardy old man, for he was getting
beyond middle age now, would hear to none of them. He made his will,
left his affairs in good hands, and out to America he came, and it was
three days after his arrival that I made his acquaintance. He could
remember neither the Missouri lawyer's name nor that of his post
office, and it was suggested to Mr. Rogers by an English friend, whom
he found residing in New York, and who had been here long enough to
learn that there is a difference between the vast extent of the United
States and the confined area of England, that he had better employ a
man to "pilot" him about the country, especially in the great West; and
it chanced that, through an acquaintance of mine, to whom Mr. Rogers's
want was made known, I was hit upon as the proper individual to
consult, and Mr. Rogers and his friend called on me, and made known his
business, giving me a good part of this story as I have detailed it.
Other parts I, of course, obtained from others, for he did not, at
first, let me into the secret of his present hatred of, and his former
love for, Edward Hague. He was here as a sort of messenger of justice,
as he would have me believe,--and as I did for a long time
believe,--making pure self-sacrifices in the cause of right, to restore
a man to his rightful possessions, and "see justice triumph."
We soon got ready, and started off for St. Louis, I having concluded
that the best thing to be done was to hunt up that lawyer,--Mr.
Rogers's correspondent,--and to go on to the ground, and find out the
names of as many lawyers as I could, trusting to Mr. Rogers's memory to
recollect the name if he should hear it; and we were in due time the
guests of the Planter's Hotel, and went at once to prosecuting our
inquiries. I proceeded to find the assistant clerk of the Supreme
Court,--an old man, who had, since the territorial days of Missouri,
done service as a court clerk, and knew almost everybody of any note in
the State.
He gave us the names of all the lawyers in St. Louis, and in the
adjoining counties,--Jefferson, St. Charles, Pike, Crawford, Franklin,
Warren, etc., lists of which he chanced to have; and then named to us
all the lawyers in other parts of the State whom he had chanced to
know; but Mr. Rogers recognized none of them as his correspondent, and
after a day spent in this sort of search, we returned to our hotel, and
eventually sought our beds.
Finally, I was aroused out of a two hours' slumber by a servant, who
told me that Mr. Rogers wanted me to get up, and come at once to his
room.
"Has he a fit?" I asked, fearful that the old fellow had got desponding
over our ill success, and worked himself into a fever, or something
else.
"No; I reckon he hain't, massa," responded the darkey, opening the
largest mouth I ever saw, and displaying a set of teeth formidable
enough to frighten a man just awakened from sleep, "for he's up,
poundin' 'roun'; but I do say, massa, his face _is_ juf as red as if
he'd had a fit, or two uv 'em to th' same time, massa,--ugh! ugh!"