A Tale of Two Cities
Among the many friends we made during our stay in Montreal, none were so
thoroughly beloved by myself and family as the Sinclairs. Mr. Sinclair
was an English artist who had settled in Canada some time previous to
our arrival, and, being generally well informed, as well as a shining
light in his own profession, he was made much of by the English
residents here, and had as pupils many of the wives and daughters of the
officers of the garrison, besides some of the more cultivated Canadians.
Mrs. Sinclair was a refined English lady of good family, and had several
children, mostly girls, who were greatly admired not only for their
beauty, but also for their many and various accomplishments. The
Sinclair girls were frequently at our house, being, in fact, looked upon
as members of our family, and no social gathering of ours was considered
complete without them.
In time Mr. Sinclair became tired of Montreal. Many of his patrons
left with their regiments for England, and he became weary of the
dull routine and scanty income which he saw was all he could ever look
forward to in Canada, so, breaking up his household, he departed for the
United States, and, having lived for a time in various cities, finally
settled in Boston, where he became quite successful, and soon obtained
an enviable reputation as a portrait painter.
Lulu Sinclair, the eldest of the girls, was a sprightly blonde of about
sixteen when her father left Montreal, and the family had not been
long in Boston before she became engaged as a teacher at one of the
conservatories, and a mutual attachment sprang up between the pair.
Miss Sinclair had already made her _début_ in Boston Music Hall as a
vocalist, and the pair were frequently engaged at the same concerts
and entertainments, so that the natural sequence was that they in time
became engaged, and afterwards--_married_!
“Nothing very mysterious in that,” I think I hear my fair reader say, a
little disappointed that I have not prepared a spicy bit of scandal for
her delectation; but as Balaam the Prophet could only speak as he
was impelled by the spirit, so likewise must I confine myself to
_the realities_ of the case, and I therefore make no apology for this
commonplace bit of history, but proceed with my story.
One evening Lulu made her appearance at our house, in Montreal,
accompanied by Mr. Hill, her husband. It seems that they were on a
concert tour, and were to give two concerts in Saint Patrick’s Hall,
which at that time stood on the corner of Craig street and Victoria
square, and, as we had often invited them to do so, they promised
to avail themselves of our hospitality during their stay, as their
engagement terminated with these concerts and they were anxious to take
a little rest before returning to Boston.
The children were delighted to have Mr. and Mrs. Hill in the house
with them; they had never met a _real live prima donna_ in private
life before, and they flaunted “Professor Hill” and “Mademoiselle Lulu
Sinclair” in the faces of their juvenile acquaintances, as if they
had been entertaining the Emperor of all the Russias and Her Imperial
Majesty the Empress.
Since the Sinclairs had left Montreal, the principal playmates of our
children had been the Bennetts, who lived in the adjoining street. Mr.
Bennett was a French-Canadian, with (as usual) a large family, and was
in comfortable circumstances, having a large retail grocery on Notre
Dame street. One evening, shortly after the arrival of Mr. Hill and
his wife, the former drew me aside and asked me if I knew a family in
Montreal named Bennett. I told him that I knew them intimately, that
they lived close at hand, and taking him to the window (it was late in
the spring) I showed him the children walking opposite hand in hand with
our own. He then intimated that he had something to tell me, and, taking
me aside into the adjoining room, he told me something which astonished
me as much as it will doubtless astonish the reader of these pages.
It seems that Mr. Bennett’s father was an American, who, in early life,
being settled in Montreal, became enamoured of a Canadian girl named
Beauchamp. Miss Beauchamp was young, pretty, and a Catholic. The first
two of these qualifications rather suited Mr. Bennett, and the third
did not in any way annoy him, he being (although a Protestant) a
liberal-minded man, and having the idea that thoughts and opinions could
not be forced, like sheep, to go in a particular track, but that
every one should be free to hold what convictions his reason dictated,
untrammelled by conventionality or creed of any kind. Miss Beauchamp
professed to be of a like mind, and agreed to allow him to educate the
boys (if any), while she would look after the female issue of their
marriage. With this ridiculous understanding they got married, and for
a time things went pleasantly along, Mrs. Bennett attending L’Eglise
St. Jacques regularly, not only without opposition from her husband but
sometimes even accompanied by him. He did not believe in the efficacy of
the service to save his soul, but he had sufficient common sense to know
that it could not harm him, or turn him one whit aside from what his
reason dictated; and neither did it, for at the end of two years he was
as greatly opposed to what he considered the errors of the Church of
Rome as ever he was, and though he attended L’Eglise St. Jacques almost
as regularly as St. George’s Church, of which he was a member, he went
there simply because he liked the society of his wife, and she believed
it to be necessary for her salvation.
In the course of time Mrs. Bennett gave birth to a boy, then two
girls, and afterwards another boy, all of whom, as children will, made
enquiries concerning whence they were and whither they were going, etc.
Mr. Bennett now began to see the folly he had been guilty of in making
the agreement mentioned above. If the Catholic religion were the true
and only faith, all his sons were on the high road to perdition; if, as
he was inclined to think, the Protestant religion were nearer the mark,
then what was to become of the girls? What a pleasant prospect was
there before him! His family torn and divided by the most bitter of all
dissentions, religious disputes (or rather _irreligious_ disputes about
matters of doctrine), and his life and those of all his family rendered
miserable. This was certainly bad enough in its way, but something more
annoying was in store for him. He one day discovered that not only were
the girls baptized in the Romish faith, but that the _boys also_ were
surreptitiously baptized by the parish priest, so that he alone of all
the family remained a Protestant, and a poor one at that. Every day
things got more and more complicated, and his wife at last openly avowed
that _all_ the children were to be Roman Catholics, and advised him also
to flee from the wrath to come and take refuge in the arms of the true
church.
Bennett was not exactly a bigot, but, if not a Protestant, he was
certainly not going to become a Roman Catholic. Cursing himself bitterly
for his folly, he sought to make matters better; but that, so far as
changing the religion or creed of his family went, was altogether beyond
his power. He had his choice between living an alien and a heretic,
despised by his own family; and joining a church whose teachings he
considered puerile and inefficacious, and the atmosphere of which was
now exceedingly disagreeable to him. His wife showed herself so much
more devoted to the church than to her husband, that his love for her
soon faded away, and he made a fearful resolve to leave Montreal, and
never see his wife or children more. Accordingly one evening, instead
of returning as usual from his store, he left for parts unknown, leaving
his wife and children almost penniless behind.
Mrs. Bennett, though acting as she did, loved her husband dearly. It was
this very love for him which made her so anxious for him to leave what
she considered the false religion of the Church of England for the pure
and unadulterated system of the Church of Rome. She cried after him as
if her heart would break, and sent after him in all directions. All her
efforts, however, were in vain, no trace of her husband being found.
The children were left at school till they were in time old enough to be
apprenticed to a trade or business, Mrs. Bennett struggling bravely, as
only a woman can do, to keep their heads above water. When William, the
eldest boy, was about fourteen, he was placed in the well-known house
of Messrs. Mockridge & Co., dry goods merchants, and in course of time
became thoroughly conversant with the business. He had not only
been able to help his mother to maintain the family, but had put by
sufficient to start a small business for himself. Before deciding on
the latter, however, he determined to visit Boston, to get a few ideas
connected with the business, and, while there, came across his father,
who had married again under the name of Hill, his wife being a young
American of good family, and the mother of the gentleman from whom I
learnt this story.
William Bennett reproached his father with his misconduct, and insisted
on his leaving his American wife. Bennett the elder was very much averse
to doing so, but his son would leave him no alternative, threatening him
with exposure and criminal action should he decline. The old man tried
to temporize, and persuaded William to visit and dine with his family,
introducing him as a business friend from Montreal.
Whatever Anti-Spiritualists may say to the contrary, there are
undoubtedly influences other than material which affect us at times, and
give us mysterious intimations of events happening or about to happen.
Both Mrs. Hill and her children had a presentiment of some impending
calamity, and, although they had not the faintest suspicion of the real
state of affairs, they did not look on William Bennett as they would
have done on any other person casually introduced into their household.
A damper seemed to have been placed on all their spirits, and the flow
of conversation was sluggish and dull.
After dinner they endeavored to organize an impromptu card-party, but
that, also, was a failure; and, although, as a rule, they had a
little music after dinner, on this particular evening each one seemed
indisposed to break the monotony.
About ten o’clock William left for his hotel, having first made an
appointment with his father for the following morning. When they
met William returned to the subject of their previous discourse, and
insisted on his father returning with him to Montreal. The old man vowed
that, come what might, he would never go back to his “priest-ridden
family” as he chose to designate his wife and children. The battle waxed
fast and furious, till at last William exclaimed with an oath: “By ----
you shall leave your Yankee mistress, then; _she_ shall suffer what _my
mother_ suffered;” and with oaths and threatenings he hounded his father
out of Boston, determined that Mrs. Hill should not (innocent though she
was) enjoy the happy home which was denied to his mother.
When Mrs. Hill learned the truth (which she did from a letter sent her
from Montreal) she nearly lost her reason. Her case was even worse than
that of Bennett’s first wife; because, whereas the latter could at least
seek her husband, and live in the hope of one day finding him again, the
former could not, even did she discover him, claim him as her own.
Mr. Hill’s visit to Montreal, then, though ostensibly made for
professional pursuits was, in reality to find out something concerning
his father’s whereabouts, and other matters connected with his
quasi-relations. It was strange that he should have come to me for
information without being at all aware of our intimacy with the Bennett
family, indeed, while he was relating his story Amelia Bennett, his
brother’s eldest child, came running in for something or another, and
I at once saw a resemblance between the two, not only in personal
appearance, but also in manners and actions.
The next day Mr. Hill, leaving his wife to the care of our family (who
had undertaken to show her “the lions”) went forth on his expedition
in search of his father. He had obtained from me his brother’s business
address, and going to the office unannounced was immediately recognized
by him, although they had only met once before, and that a considerable
time previously. On explaining the object of his visit, Hall was very
coldly received and informed that Bennett the elder had left Montreal
for New York some years previously and had not since been heard of. Mr.
Hill pretended to believe the story, but secretly determined to keep a
watch on his half-brother as he felt certain that the latter was still
in communication with his father. He accordingly made arrangements to
stay at my house, and as the Bennetts were constantly coming and going
he was sure that in a short time he would learn more concerning him of
whom he was in search.
One afternoon we were seated round the parlor fire, discussing the usual
after-dinner topics, when Mrs. William Bennett dropped in to have a
friendly chat. She disclosed the fact that her husband was going to
visit a superannuated employee in the nunnery, which he usually did
on the first of each month, and that she did not see what reason her
husband had to support forever all his broken-down employees. At the
first word, Hill listened breathlessly, and when Mrs. Bennett said that
she had just left her husband dressing, he quickly, but quietly, left
the room. In an instant he was opposite Bennett’s house, and as soon as
he noticed the bedroom light extinguished (for it was already dark),
he drew back into a shadowed corner till he saw Bennett emerge from
the doorway and walk rapidly down the street. Hill followed at a safe
distance, but soon he saw his brother hail a passing sleigh, and,
entering it, order the driver to take him somewhere; the name of the
street, however, he failed to hear, and he felt chagrined to see the
neighboring cab-stand completely deserted. “Now or never,” he thought,
“am I to attain the object of my visit,” and he dashed madly along the
street after the vehicle which was travelling at the rate of ten miles
an hour; several times he passed a cab-stand and would fain have taken
a fresh horse in pursuit, but he was afraid that while doing so he might
lose sight of the sleigh he had followed so far; or confound it with
another vehicle, for they were now passing through the centre of the
city towards the west end of St. Antoine street.
Past terrace after terrace they flew, till Mr. Hill was nearly faint and
breathless, when a sudden turn to the right brought them to the foot of
a hill, now Guy street, up which the carter walked his horse, and gave
the half dead pedestrian time to recover his breath. When they had
proceeded about a quarter of a mile up the hill, the carter drew up at
the Nunnery on the left side of the road, and Mr. Bennett, alighting,
rang the bell. A sliding panel was immediately pushed aside, and a
hooded sister held a few moments conversation with the visitor, on which
the door was opened, and he was admitted. Hill, who had been standing in
the shadow of the porch, entered unnoticed at his brother’s heels, the
janitor being under the impression that they had come in the sleigh
together. Walking along a dark corridor they came to a stairway, down
which their guide preceded them into the basement; here Hill took a
favorable opportunity to turn aside, still keeping his eye on the others
till they arrived at the end of the passage and entered a large room
where several old men were congregated, some chatting in groups, others
smoking or reading lazily. In one of these, with emotions which cannot
be described, Hill recognized his father from whom he had so long been
separated. His first impulse was to rush boldly in and make himself
known, but, the first transport over, his American caution prevailed,
and he slipped down another passage which commanded a view of the
staircase, and watched from his point of vantage the many persons
returning from visiting their friends. He felt relieved when he saw
Bennett take his departure, and with one bound he rushed into the middle
of the room where the old man was, and, throwing himself round his
father’s neck, wept like a child. The old man did not recognize him at
first, but when he did he went into hysterics, so great was the shock
to his nervous system. Never was there such a commotion in the quiet
Nunnery, and the inmates gathered round in excited groups to listen to
Hill’s story. He told them that his father had left Boston some years
before, and, becoming unable to support himself, had been placed by a
heartless elder brother in the cold confines of the Nunnery, although
the younger members of the family were both willing and anxious to
support their aged parent. There being no reason why the old man should
not leave the institution if so inclined, the Superior allowed him,
after some hesitation, to take his departure, first receiving the
grateful thanks both of himself and of his son for her kind and
fostering care. Hill left a letter for his brother, informing him that,
his father being willing, he had taken him away from the Nunnery, and
that as they evidently did not want to keep him with their families, he
was about to take him to live with _his_.
Bennett was furious when he received the letter, but, as Mrs. Hill was
now no more, and no threats or exposures of any kind could induce young
Hill and his father to separate, he allowed them to go their way in
peace.
A few years after these occurrences Mr. Hill received an appointment in
Montreal.
Bennett and he sometimes meet in the street, but give no signs of
recognition. The old man is still living, seldom going beyond the
portals of his son’s house and passing most of his time in moody
meditation on the past. Let us hope that a heartfelt repentance may in
some measure atone for his past weaknesses.