MRS. CHAPMAN GIVES A BALL.
It was a cold, dark night in December. The wind was blowing fresh from
the northeast, the tall trees on the Battery were in commotion, and the
ships in the harbor, seen through a pale mist, were straining at their
anchors. A thin, pale mist hung over the sombre old fort on the Battery,
over the trees, over the ships, over everything within the eye's reach.
And the mist and the solemn beating sound of the sea-wail, in which the
sailor fancies he can read all his sorrows, gave a weird and mysterious
appearance to the scene. The Battery was nearly deserted that night, for
at the time we write of only two old men could be seen, leaning over the
railing on the sea-wall and watching in the direction of a ship at
anchor in the stream, and looking as if she was just in from sea.
Mrs. Chapman was to give her ball that night. The lady had for several
weeks given all her mind and energy to the preliminaries of this grand
affair. Who was to be invited, what sort of new dresses she and Mattie
would appear best in, who was to provide the supper, and what the whole
would cost, were subjects which so engaged the lady's attention that she
could think of nothing else. In vain did Chapman demur to the great
expense and the folly of keeping up appearances under such
circumstances. In vain did he insinuate the probable necessity of
inventing a new religion as a means of bringing his revenues up to his
necessities. A necklace of pearls and a diamond ring had been got for
Mattie, and now a demand was made for a new and expensive dress. If
there was anything in the world Chapman admired and submitted to it was
his wife. In his thoughts she was above everything else, and he would
surrender to her demands, no matter at what sacrifice. As for Mattie, he
never seemed to care much about her, nor indeed to regard her with
anything more than ordinary affection.
There was no getting along without the ball, Mrs. Chapman said. West
Bowling Green had given two or three balls, and had not condescended to
send her an invitation. It was very mortifying to get the cut direct in
this way. She must bring West Bowling Green down by showing that she
could give a ball of her own. And then it would be such a relief to her
pride. And, too, it would be just the thing to show Mattie off to the
best advantage. Mr. Gusher would shine brilliantly in a ball room, and
so would Mattie, and if the young people could be reconciled in that
way, why it would be money well spent.
Mrs. Topman was delighted at the prospect, and so was Gusher. And both
had been going about among their friends for a week sounding the trumpet
of Mrs. Chapman's ball, as well as telling their friends that the
Chapmans were rich and very distinguished people. Bowling Green, then,
was in a flutter that night. Chapman's house was brilliantly lighted,
and carriages began to arrive and set down their gaily-attired occupants
ere St. Paul's clock had struck nine. Then there was such a tripping of
delicately turned little feet, such a flashing of underskirts, such a
witching of perfumed silks and satins, such a display of white arms and
white shoulders, as each bevy of beauties vaulted up the steps and were
bowed into the house by the polite Mr. Bowles. Bowles felt himself an
important element in the dignity of the family that night. His mistress
had got him a new blue coat with large brass buttons, and a white
waistcoat that reached nearly to his knees, and gave him the appearance
of a huge ball of snow surmounted by an illuminated globe painted black.
Bowles had delivered most of the invitations, and firmly believed that
his mistress was indebted to him for the success of her ball, inasmuch
as he had solicited guests worthy of her favor. Nor was he sure that the
ball was not given by his mistress to show him off in his new clothes.
Bowles had a bow and a smile for each of the guests. "My missus is right
glad to sees you--she is. Be a heap o' dancin' did to-night," he would
say, as he bowed the guests into the hall.
At ten o'clock the brilliantly-lighted parlors were filled, and
presented the appearance of a garden of flowers variously colored. There
were merry, laughing voices, graceful forms, young and happy faces,
forming the light and shade of the picture presented to the eye. The
ponderous figure of Mrs. Chapman formed a sort of central object. The
lady was indeed got up in a gorgeous style of dress, for she wore all
the colors of the rainbow, without their blending, had flounces nearly
to her waist, giving her the appearance of an half-inflated balloon; and
she had made a very flower-basket of her head. In short, the lady had
made a bold attempt to improve on all known styles of dress, and at the
same time to show her contempt for what other people might call taste in
such matters. Thus elaborately arrayed she fancied herself as much a
lady of quality as any of your fine old West Bowling Green people.
A number of exquisitely dressed young men had gathered about the lady,
and although they paid her all manner of compliments, and said various
pretty things in admiration of her charming daughter, it was evident
that they regarded her as a rare curiosity, whose mental defects were
affording them a subject for amusement. There the lady stood, receiving
the congratulations of her friends and introducing her daughter Mattie,
who was dressed in a plain blue silk with white trimmings, a wreath of
orange blossoms on her head, and her golden hair hanging in simple curls
down her shoulders. Indeed, the lady suffered by comparison with her
daughter, whose charms were made more fascinating by the simplicity of
her dress and the quietness of her manners.
In truth, Mattie had no taste for the show and extravagance her mother
was so fond of indulging in. Nor could she see what object her mother
had, or what really was to be gained by giving this ball. She felt in
her heart that it was a piece of extravagance her father could not
afford as an honest man, and she saw prominent among the guests persons
she had long mistrusted of being his enemies. Gay as the scene was it
had nothing in it to interest her. Her thoughts were engaged in
something more real and true. They were wandering just then into a
distant ocean in search of the object dearest in her affections,
wondering how it fared with him. Then the picture of Hanz and Angeline,
in their humble little home, revealed itself to her, and her mind filled
with strange fancies as to the part she might have to perform in saving
them from the trouble she saw foreshadowed in her father's conversation
with Topman and Gusher. She little knew what sorrow had been brought
into Hanz's home since she left Nyack; nor did it occur to her that old
Father Hanz, as she playfully called him, might even then be within the
sound of her voice.
The company had all assembled, the musicians were beginning to tune
their instruments, and the time for dancing was drawing near. Mrs.
Chapman flattered herself that Bowling Green would wake up in the
morning to find that she had carried its outworks. But notwithstanding
all the pushing she had done, and all the pushing her friends had done
for her, she had not succeeded in catching the sort of people she had
thrown her net for. There was Topman and Mrs. Topman, moving here and
there in all the elegance of full dress. There were a number of others,
who were always ready to accept an invitation where there was dancing to
be done, or an opportunity afforded to show themselves in their best
clothes. They were second and third-rate people, after all--people who
get a cheap position in society through their proficiency in dancing,
which they accept as the highest object a man or woman has to live for.
Poor Chapman moved about here and there like a raven among birds of
brilliant plumage; and never did man look meeker or more submissive.
There had been a curious change in his worldly affairs since the time
when he preached humility and economy at Dogtown, and was ready to
quarrel with any man who did not agree with him that show and
extravagance were carrying the country to the devil.
"My wife, my dear wife, gives this ball," he would say, referring
timidly to the subject. "My dear wife enjoys these things. Mrs. Chapman
is very fond of young society, you see. I hope you are enjoying
yourselves. There will be dancing soon--I never dance--and supper at
twelve."
There was no man more elaborately got up that night than Gusher. Every
hair on his head was trained into exact position, and his tailoring was
faultless. In short, Gusher had got himself up with a view to making the
greatest destruction on the female heart. He whisked about here and
there, making himself useful as well as ornamental, for he felt that he
had got the Chapman family on his shoulders, and was responsible for its
reputation as very distinguished.
"Miz, you shall permit me ze pleazure, and ze 'onar, to open ze dance
wiz you," said Gusher, approaching Mattie with his right hand on his
heart, and making one of his extensive bows, "You shall do me ze 'onar,
I am sure," he continued, and as he raised his head with an air of
confidence, expecting to see her extend her hand, his eye fell on the
familiar face of a young man standing at her side, engaging her in
conversation. He paused suddenly, his face changed color from pale to
crimson, and his manner became nervous and agitated. His whole system,
mental and physical, seemed to have received a sudden and unexpected
shock.
"Yes, my daughter, you must open the ball with Mr. Gusher. How very kind
of you, Mr. Gusher," said Mrs. Chapman, with a courtesy. "It will be so
very appropriate, my daughter, for you and Mr. Gusher to lead off." Mrs.
Chapman had not noticed the singular change in Mr. Gusher's manner. He,
however, recovered himself in a minute, and affecting not to notice the
young man at Mattie's side, who still kept his eyes fixed on him, he
resumed:
"Do me ze 'onar, Miz, and you shall make me so happy."
"I am sure, mamma," returned Mattie, "Mr. Gusher will excuse me. It was
very kind of you to remember me," (turning to Mr. Gusher.) "But really I
should appear very awkward dancing with you, who are so good a dancer. I
am sure you will excuse me for the opening dance, Mr. Gusher, and I
shall have the pleasure, if you will condescend to honor me, of dancing
with you during the evening."
"My daughter, my daughter!" interrupted Mrs. Chapman, motioning with her
fan, "pray don't be eccentric to-night. Accept the honor Mr. Gusher
intended and please me--if only for once."
"I am sure, mamma, I always try to please you," returned Mattie, "and I
appreciate the honor Mr. Gusher would do me, knowing how much my dear
mamma admires him." Here Mattie paused for a moment and tapped her
fingers with her fan, as the young man who had stood by her side turned
and walked away for a moment. "It was very thoughtless of me, mother,"
resumed Mattie, ("you know I am only a thoughtless girl, after all)--but
the truth is I am already engaged for the first dance."
"Engaged, my daughter, engaged?" Mrs. Chapman rejoined. "Pray, who to?
It was very strange of you!" Here the young man returned to Mattie's
side.
"Allow me to introduce you to my mother, Mr. Romer," said Mattie. "Mr.
Romer, Mr. Gusher,--a friend of our family." Mrs. Chapman made a
courtesy, and the two gentlemen bowed formally and coldly.
"If I mistake not," said Mr. Romer, who was a young man of polished
manners, slender of form, with a frank, open countenance, and evidently
a gentleman, "we have met before." He kept his eyes fixed on Gusher, as
if resolved to read his thoughts in the changes that were going on in
his countenance.
"Pardon, pardon, monsieur," returned Mr. Gusher, affecting an air of
self-confidence supported by innocence. "I ne-var re-mem-bar as we has
meets before. You shall zee I shall make you my respects. We shall meet
again, I am sure of zat, zen we shall be such good friends. But I ne-var
re-mem-bar zat we meets before."
"You were living in a castle then," returned the young man, coolly, "and
I was only an outsider. People who live in castles at times don't
remember common people."
It was a strange and curious meeting. Mattie saw there was something
embarrassing between the two gentlemen, and came quickly to their
relief.
"I am Mr. Romer's partner for the first dance," she said, addressing Mr.
Gusher, with a bow. "It was very thoughtless of me. You were so very
kind. But I am sure you are too generous not to excuse me."
"It is my great misfortune, miz. But you shall zee as I ne-var intrude
myself. I shall have ze pleazure during ze evening." Gusher blushed and
withdrew to another part of the ball room, where he captured Mrs.
Topman, who was delighted at having such a partner for the first dance.
Mrs. Topman was indeed popular as a dancing lady, and nothing pleased
her better than to show her skill in the art in company with Gusher,
whom all the pretty young girls said moved so nice on his feet.
The music now struck up and fell softly and sweetly on the ear, and the
dancing began, and each figure seemed floating in the very poetry of
motion, until the bewitching scene carried the mind away captive in its
gyrations.
Mattie had never seen Mr. Romer, nor indeed heard of him before that
night. She knew nothing of the relations existing between him and
Gusher. She was equally a stranger to Mr. Gusher's antecedents. Her mind
had, however, for some time been engaged trying to solve the mysterious
agency that had brought him into business relations with her father.
Being a girl of fixed character and good common sense, it was only
natural that she should entertain an instinctive dislike for Gusher, in
whom she saw a nature, if not really bad, at least frivolous and
artificial.
The unexpected meeting between Romer and Gusher threw a shadow over the
entertainment, so far as it affected the latter. Here he had been for
weeks sounding the trumpet of Mrs. Chapman's ball, and looking forward
to it as the means of making a temple of triumph of himself, and
captivating no end of female hearts, Mattie's included; but how sadly he
was disappointed. It had suddenly thrown around him a chain of
difficulties that might blast his ambition, destroy all his hopes, and
cause the veil he supposed was forever drawn over his past life to be
lifted. The only way he saw of extricating himself from these
difficulties, of cutting through them as it were, was by the force and
skilful exercise of great coolness and impudence, and these he resolved
to use, and use quickly.
And while the dancing was progressing a number of young fellows, who
found more congenial enjoyment in their glasses and cigars, were seated
at a table in a room down stairs, which Mrs. Chapman had provided as a
sort of free-and-easy for such of her guests as were inclined to enjoy
themselves in their own way. Chapman had provided generously, both of
wines and cigars, which might have seemed strange to one of his Dogtown
acquaintances. He had, however, so modified his ideas as to what
constituted strict morality as to believe it would be nothing against a
man in the other world that he had drank a glass of wine and smoked a
cigar in this.
The young gentlemen were conducting themselves in a manner not
recognized in the rules of propriety. Indeed, they had smoked so many of
Chapman's cigars, and uncorked so many bottles of his wine, and drank
the health of the family such a number of times, that they were fast
losing their wits. When, then, Bowles made his appearance in the room,
to see if there was anything he could do for the gentlemen, he found
them talking so strangely of his mistress, and making so free with her
personal appearance, that he considered it an indignity he was bound to
defend by putting on the severest look he was capable of.
"Say, Charles," said one of the young men, addressing a comrade as he
raised his glass, "who did you get your card through? What sort of a
family is it, anyhow?"
"Got mine through Gusher. He's a kind of a spoon, you know. Don't know
anything of the fellow, particularly--met him outside, you know. He's
mighty sweet on the filly. She's pretty. Would'nt mind being sweet on
her myself. I'd be a little afraid the old one would want to throw
herself into the bargain. What a crusher of a mother-in-law she'd make,"
returned the young man.
"An odd-sized lot, anyhow," interrupted a third. "How frightfully the
old lady's got herself up, eh? What a melancholy little specimen of
humanity she's got for a husband, eh? Who are the Chapmans, anyhow?"
"Devilish new, devilish new," rejoined a fourth. "What a mixed lot they
have got for company."
"Fill up! fill up! gentlemen. Here's a bumper to the beautiful daughter.
Beauty and modesty carry us all captive in their charms. Let us drink to
the daughter." And they filled their glasses and drank Mattie's health.
"When my missus inwites pussons to de ball, my missus 'specs dem ar
gemmens what is inwited to presarve dar qualifications. If gemmen am
gemmen den dey don't cum'd to my missus's ball to suffocate her!" said
Bowles, expressing himself, and assuming an air of injured dignity.
Bowles had to pay dear for his speech in defence of the family, for the
young gentlemen surrounded him, and, getting him into a high chair at
the head of the table, compelled him to perform all sorts of antics for
their amusement, such as making speeches and singing songs. They also
made Bowles drink so many times to the lady whose livery he had the
honor to wear, that he lost his senses, and fancied himself fighting any
man who had said a word against the family. Indeed, it soon became
necessary to extinguish Mr. Bowles, and to that end the young gentlemen
rolled him up in the table-cover, and put him carefully away in a
corner, where he soon went into a sound sleep, and remained until his
master woke him up on the following morning.