TITE TOODLEBURG AND A MODERN REFORMER.
Young Tite Toodleburg has grown up to be a boy of sixteen. A bright,
handsome fellow he is, every inch a sailor, and full of the spirit of
adventure. There is something more than Dutch blood in Tite, and it
begins to show itself. His figure is erect and slender, his hair soft
and flaxen, and his blue eyes and fresh, smiling face, almost girlish in
its expression, gave to his regular features a softness almost feminine.
And yet there was something manly, resolute, and even daring in his
actions. There was no such thing as fear in his nature. He had acquired
such a knowledge of seamanship that he could handle the good sloop
Heinrich quite as skilfully as the skipper, and, indeed, make the voyage
to New York as promptly as the greatest navigator on the Tappan Zee. He
was expert, too, at taking in and delivering out cargo, could keep the
sloop's account, and drive as good a trade as any of them with the
merchants in Fly Market. In this way Tite made a host of friends, who
began to look forward to the time when he would have a sloop of his own,
and be in a way to do friendly acts for them, perhaps to make a fortune
for himself.
Tite thought very differently. Navigating the river in a sloop, to be
passed by one of Mr. Fulton's steamboats, was not the sort of sea-faring
that suited his ambition. He had seen big ships come home, after long
voyages, and the majesty of their appearance excited his spirit of
adventure. He had also spent his evenings reading the works of
celebrated navigators and travellers; and these very naturally increased
his curiosity to know more of the world and see the things they had
seen. He had also looked out through the Narrows of New York harbor, and
his young heart had yearned to be on the broad ocean beyond. If he could
only master all the mysteries of Bowditch, be a skilful navigator, and
capable of sailing a ship to any part of the world, and see strange
things and people--that day might come, he thought to himself. He had
listened, too, for hours at a time, to the stories of old sailors who
had come on board the sloop while in port. One had been to India, and
another to Ceylon; and both told wonderful stories concerning the
voyages they had made and the people they had met. Another had seen
every port in the North Pacific, had been wrecked on Queen Charlotte's
Island, and told wonderful stories of his adventures in rounding Cape
Horn. His adventures among the South Sea Islands were of the most
romantic kind, and colored so as to incite the ambition of a venturesome
young lad like Tite to the highest pitch. There was another old sailor
who had sailed the South and North Pacific, had killed his score of
whales, and been as many times within an inch of losing his own life.
These stories so fired the young gentleman's imagination that he
resolved to try his fortune at a whaling voyage as soon as the people of
Hudson sent their first ship out. There was the wide world before him,
and perhaps he might find the means of making a fortune in some distant
land. But how was he to break this resolution to his kind parents, whom
he loved so dearly? What effect would it have on his mother, who doted
on him, and for whom he had the truest affection? His mind hung between
hope for the future and duty to his parents. Regularly every Saturday
afternoon Tite had come home, received his mother's blessing, and put
his earnings into her hands for safe-keeping. There would be an end of
this if he went to the South Sea. Then his parents were both getting
old, and would soon need a protector, and if anything serious happened
to them during his absence how could he ever forgive himself. Week after
week and month after month did Tite ponder these questions in his mind,
and still his resolution to see the world grew stronger and stronger.
It was about this time that there settled in Nyack a queer and very
inquisitive sort of man of the name of Bigelow Chapman. He was a
restless, discontented sort of man, very slender of figure, with sharp,
well-defined features, keen gray eye, and wore his dark hair long and
unkept. His manner was that of a man discontented with the world, which,
he said, needed a great deal of reforming; indeed, that it could be
reformed, ought to be reformed, and that he was the man to do it. He had
been the founder of Dogtown, Massachusetts, where he had built up a very
select community of keen-witted men and women--just to set an example to
the world of how people ought to live. Dolly Chapman, his wife, (for
what would a reformer be without a wife,) was a ponderous woman,
weighing more than two hundred pounds, and a proof that even in
matrimony the opposites meet. She was a fussy, ill-bred woman, spoke
with a strong nasal twang, and a sincere believer in all the reforms
advocated by her husband, though she differed with him on one or two
points of religion. And there was Mattie Chapman, a bright, bouncing
girl of fifteen, with rosy cheeks and fair hair, ambitious for one of
her age, and evidently inclined to make a show in the world. These
constituted the Chapman family.
Dogtown, of which I made mention, was a creation of Chapman's. With it
he was to demonstrate how the world could be reformed, and how the
prejudices were to be driven from other people's minds. Strong-minded
people from various towns in Massachusetts came and settled in Dogtown,
invested their money, were to do an equal share of work, and receive an
equal share of profits, and live together as happily as lambs. But
Dogtown did not long continue a paradise. Indeed, it soon became famous
for two things: for the name of Bigelow Chapman, and for having more
crazy and quarrelsome people in it than could be found in any other town
in Massachusetts, which was saying a good deal. The brothers and
sisters, for such they called themselves, got to quarrelling among
themselves on matters of politics and religion, though charity was a
thing they made no account of. In truth, there was more politics than
religion in their preaching.
Chapman constituted himself treasurer of the community, and some little
private speculations of his led to a belief among the brothers and
sisters that his mind was not solely occupied with schemes for reforming
the world. To tell the truth, Bigelow Chapman was not so great a fool as
his followers. He had intended, when Dogtown got thoroughly under way,
to sell out, put the money in his pocket, and employ his genius
somewhere else. He, however, undertook the enterprise of building a
church on speculation, being persuaded to do so by an outside Christian.
The church was to be a large, handsome building, with a butcher's shop
and a grocery, a shoe store and a confectionery in the basement, and a
school and a dancing academy up stairs; so that the brothers and
sisters could get everything they wanted, religion included, in one
locality. But the enterprise failed for want of funds to finish it, and
Dogtown went to the dogs, and the Chapman family to Nyack. Report has it
that the church was afterwards finished and converted into an insane
asylum, where several of the brothers and sisters lived for the rest of
their lives.
It was hinted that Chapman had brought some money to Nyack with him, but
exactly how much no one knew. The only thing positively known about him
at that time was that he had a great number of new ideas, all of which
he was in great haste to develope. Indeed, he soon had Nyack in a state
of continual agitation. He declared it his first duty to open the eyes
of the Dutch settlers to truth and right; then to get them to thinking;
and finally to make fortunes for all of them. He begun business,
however, by quarrelling with nearly everybody in the village, and
asserting that he knew more than all of them.
Twice he had Titus Bright, the inn-keeper, up before the magistrate and
fined for selling liquor in opposition to law. He proclaimed it highly
immoral to sell liquor at all, and told Bright to his teeth that no
honest man would do it. For this he had been twice kicked out of the inn
by Bright, who damned him as a meddling varlet, not to be tolerated in a
peaceable village. Again he had Bright up before the magistrate, who
justified the aggression, but fined the aggressor ten dollars a kick,
which Bright considered cheap enough considering what was got for his
money. Bright declared it a principle with him to give his customers
what they wanted, and let them be the judge of their own necessities.
Bigelow Chapman held that mankind was a big beast, to be subdued and
governed by laws made for his subjection. It never occurred to him,
however, that there might be reason in the opinions of others. Finding,
however, that he could not get the better of Bright in any other way, he
organized a company and set up an opposition tavern, where a traveller
could feel at home and have none of the annoyances of beer. The new inn
was to be conducted on strictly temperance principles, and the price of
board was to be reduced a dollar a week. But the principle of temperance
was carried out so rigidly in the fare that travellers, although treated
politely enough, found it difficult to get anything to eat, to say
nothing of drink.
While this was going on Mrs. Bigelow Chapman was busying herself getting
up an anti-tea-and-coffee-drinking society. She declared that this
coffee and tea-drinking was nothing less than an oppression, breaking
down people's health and making them poor, while the grocers who sold
the stuff were getting rich. It was evident, also, that she was carrying
her principles out on the table of the new inn. However commendable
these reforms might be in the eyes of a true reformer, they were not
exactly the thing to satisfy the wants of hungry travellers. The new inn
soon got up an excellent reputation for giving its customers nothing but
politeness and clean linen. This not being satisfactory to the
travelling public generally, the establishment had to close its doors
for want of customers. Chapman was surprised at this. He could not
understand why reformers were not better appreciated about Nyack. The
stock-holders, however, had lost all their money, and were glad to sell
out to Chapman, which they did for a trifle, and that was all he
wanted.
People began to inquire what the big building would next be turned into.
Mrs. Chapman and her dear husband, as she called him, were always
projecting something new. Indeed, she saw two fortunes in the future
where Chapman only saw one. The thought invaded her mind that there was
a fortune to be made by turning the big house into a great moral
progress boarding-school for young ladies, where "all the proprieties"
would be strictly attended to. Yes, "the proprieties" would take with
steady-minded people. She could attend to the proprieties, and dear
Chapman could look after the little money affairs. She did not want to
trouble herself with the sordid things of this world; she only wanted to
reform it. And to do that you must begin at the bottom. You must teach
young people, and especially young ladies, the value of reforms. In that
way you enable them to reform their husbands when they get them, and
also make them comprehend the value of new ideas. As for old people, she
declared it time wasted to try to get new ideas into their heads.
Chapman congratulated his dear wife on this new and grand idea. He
agreed with her that a woman was just the thing to straighten up a
husband in need of mental and physical reformation. But it would not do
to start the enterprise until you could get people to take stock enough
to insure a sound basis. He did not care about money himself, still it
was necessary to the success of all great enterprises. And seeing that
the inn had failed, though based on great moral principles, he was not
quite sure that the people would hasten to take stock in the new
enterprise.
It was also an objection with Chapman that with such an institution
there would be nothing to run opposition to except a few beer-drinking
school-masters, who got their victuals and fifteen dollars a month for
driving a knowledge of the rule of three into the heads of little Dutch
children. How different it would be with a church. And then the big inn
could be made such an excellent church, at such a small expense. A man
owning a church could feel himself strong in both politics and religion,
and have all the quarrels he wanted. Chapman was delighted with this new
idea of his; and his good wife supposed it was infinitely superior to
her own. It was another proof to her that there was no greater man in
the world than her dear Chapman. Once get the church going, and with a
preacher of the Dogtown school, to preach out and out transcendentalism,
and another ism or two, and they could get up an opposition that would
be popular with the people. In that way the thing would be sure to go.
Chapman declared this a golden opportunity. He had felt for some time
like getting up something that would drive the devil and all the
Dutchmen out of Nyack and into the Tappan Zee, and establish an entire
new order of things.
It was agreed between Chapman and his good wife that the church should
be put on its legs without delay; that the work of reforming Nyack and
the rest of the world should begin at once. As funds were necessary to
all great enterprises, and Chapman was inclined at all times to husband
his own, the good woman got up a regular season of religious
tea-parties, exclusively "for ladies." Mrs. Chapman was intent on
popularizing the enterprise, and to that end had inserted on her cards
of invitation, "exclusively for ladies." There was nothing like tea when
you wanted to make a great reform movement popular. Chapman had more
than once said that woman, under the inspiration of tea, made a mighty
engine in moving the world. Under its influence they gave enlargement
and development to progressive ideas. It had been charged that great
generals won their most celebrated battles under the influence of strong
drink. He had known great generals to win great battles under the
inspiration of tea alone. Tea and women were prodigious in their way.
The tea parties were not only got on their legs, but soon became very
popular. There were women enough in Nyack to give them, and neither rain
nor hail would keep them home of a Thursday evening. The great value of
progressive ideas was thoroughly discussed over these cups; and the fact
that their husbands were to be brought into a line of subjugation not
before anticipated had an inspiring effect. In short, female Nyack began
to carry a high head, and to make male Nyack feel that he was no longer
master in its own house. Dolly Chapman presided at these tea-parties
with that smartness peculiar to women of her class, taking particular
pains to explain how much could be done for Nyack and the world--if only
the women could get the direction of things into their own hands. A
church as the means of carrying out these new and grand ideas was
exactly what was wanted. The tea-party women all took up the idea, and
the enterprise was made so popular that each resolved herself into a
begging committee, and soon had collected the sum of seven hundred
dollars, an amount sufficient to put the thing on its legs.