WHICH DESCRIBES WHAT TOOK PLACE WHEN THE MAJOR RETURNED TO THE SAINT
NICHOLAS; WITH AN ACCOUNT OF HOW HE GOT INTO DEBT AT THE ASTOR, AND
VARIOUS OTHER THINGS.
IT was early evening when the major came exultingly into his parlor
at the Saint Nicholas, and after quenching his thirst in a nicely
mixed beverage, for the day was excessively warm, said: "And now,
young man, I own I have not done much for you yet; but you must not
be discomfited, for there is a good time ahead, and I begin to
esteem myself no small diplomatist. Indeed, if you had seen how I
accommodated myself to that affair with the Astor, which threatened
to overthrow all my prospects to-day, you would have seen, sir, that
I am not a man to build castles in the air. No, sir, I hold the
advantage gained over the host of the Astor in the light of a
victory gained over my enemies. And though my private affairs are
somewhat loose in the joints, what matters it, so long as I stand
square in the public eye? Private affairs are private affairs, and I
hold it good philosophy that they have nothing to do with a public
man and his usefulness."
The major here commenced to recount, taking considerable credit to
himself as a diplomatist, how he got the advantage of the landlord.
"I pleaded my poverty while keeping my prospective riches before his
eyes," said he; "and as he was as scrupulous of his character for
generosity as he was of the reputation of his house, I was careful
to enhance the opportunity of flattering both those weaknesses. I
also said, by way of perfecting the thing, that when in the capacity
of foreign minister, I had agreed to correspond with the Courier and
Enquirer, which, notwithstanding it was an almost pious newspaper,
and edited by not less than two famous generals, and the grandson of
a most worthy bishop, who was a poetaster, as well as a man of so
much fashion that he had gained an enviable celerity for writing
sonnets and eulogistic essays in admiration of fair but very faulty
actresses; being the prospective correspondent of this almost pious
newspaper, I consoled the landlord with a promise to write numerous
puffs of his house. My point is carried, and if they like not my
articles, as the critics say, they will at least give me credit for
astuteness, for the man who succeeds is the man in these days!"
"And now, sir," said I, "remember that you promised, as we were
journeying over the road to Barnstable, to renew the history of your
first adventure in New York, in which you were interrupted by the
mischievous boys." And as nothing so much pleased him as to relate
his misfortunes at that time, he went straight into a rhapsody of
joy, fretted his beard, looked quizzically out of his eyes, and
said:
"I have it, sir! I have the exact place. I was, as I am now, on my
way to Washington, in the hope of getting a reward for the services
I had rendered the party; but having lost all my money by one of
these pranks which the gentry of New York practice, and which Mr.
Councilman Finnigan, (I honor him in his present position,) is, no
doubt, skilled in, I had no means either to pay my landlord, or what
certainly was much more, to leave his premises.
"Days and weeks I was a martyr to my doubts and fears, and ate the
good man's meat as if his finger was on my shoulder, and his eye on
my plate. Several times he suggested, in the most gentlemanly
manner, that it would be consulting economy for me to seek private
board. But I should like to see the man who could look a widow
landlady in the face, (unless he intended marrying one of her
daughters,) without a dollar in his pocket. I told the landlord as
much, but he only laughed, and said it was a thing very common at
this day.
"I got up one morning, eat what little my anxiety would admit, went
and sat down upon a seat in the Park, and contemplated the
inclinations of the passers as they rushed by; fixed my eyes upon
the city hall clock, as it struck ten, and thought the policemen
cast an unusually sharp eye at me, as they sauntered by, and puzzled
my brain to find some means of relief, for I had just received a
letter from my wife, Polly, who was in a sad strait at home, which
added to the amount of my own misfortunes. And while I was musing in
this way, a street beggar appeared, and notwithstanding he was well
dressed, demanded alms; and when I told him I had none to give, he
set to cursing me right manfully, which was a custom with such
knaves, who imitated the city fathers in more ways than one. And as
if to show his contempt for one who had no alms to give, the knave
threw me a shilling, which he advised me to spend for the washing of
my linen, which he saw stood in much need of it. Remembering that I
was a politician, I felt mortified enough, and summoning what little
stock of courage I had left, I repaired to the hotel, resolved to be
manly, and ask the loan of twenty dollars or so, just to get me over
my difficulties-that is, to get out of the Astor and into humble
lodgings. Being at that time skilled in the art of making calf
brogans, necessity seemed pointing me to that as the only means of
retrieving my fortunes.
"On entering the hotel, the landlord kindly pointed me to my
baggage, which he had brought down, having much need of his rooms,
and carefully set in the office. This put an end to our
acquaintance, as well as left me without courage enough to request
the loan I had contemplated. I own the whole thing was done with
much shrewdness, and was a decided improvement on being kicked into
the street. But though I was neither a rogue nor a highwayman, I
took up my valise and proceeded into the street, feeling like one
whose dignity was never to be restored to him. After wandering about
for some time, like one crazed with some religious phantasy, I found
myself in front of a little house on Greene Street, with a paper on
the walls, setting forth that lodgings were to be had within. I was
in a mood to find comfort any where, so knocked at the shabby little
door, and was admitted by a negro wench of great fatness, into a
greasy little entry, from whence I was shown into a dingy parlor,
crowded with well worn furniture. The mistress of the house, the
negress said, would soon be home; and pointing me to some books that
stood upon a dusty table, and interposed between a dilapidated sofa
and an old fashioned tête-à-tête, bid me amuse myself. Then she gave
me a broken fan, and seemed very generally anxious to make me
comfortable. I took a seat in a dyspeptic arm chair, that kept up a
curious clicking, and after waiting for some time, perplexed a
little at first, consoled myself that others had troubles, perhaps
worse than mine. Then I dropped into a nap, and forgot all my cares
until the door bell tinkled, and I awoke, feeling sure the mistress
of the house was arrived; but it turned out to be the boy with the
Evening Post, a journal I always admired for its admirable morals.
Indeed I may say I regard it an excellent journal to read in an hour
of distress, its philosophy being soothingly profound. I seized the
paper, and read from outside to inside, until my courage was quite
restored, and I began humming an air which sent me into the happiest
of moods.
"Presently my eye caught a portrait I fancied to be a likeness of
the landlady, hung with dusty crape upon the wall, and having the
appearance of a specter peering through the mist. I was curious to
see the quality of her beauty, and advancing toward it, parted the
crape in the center, and there beheld a face and bust of such
exquisite loveliness that I felt sure the rogue of a painter must,
in the outpouring of his love for the beautiful, have been trying
his skill at flattering the vanity of some damsel with a likeness of
Haidee. She had the bust of a Venus, and was dressed low enough in
the neck to admit full scope to the devil's fancies. Her face, too,
was so oval that nature could not have added one line more to its
perfection; while her complexion was of deep olive, made ravishing
by the carnatic flush of her cheeks. And she had what poets and lady
novelists call great Italian eyes, beaming lustrous of soul and
energy; and hair that floated in raven blackness over shoulders that
seemed chiseled. I began to think myself the happiest of men, for my
system had always a bit of poetic fire in it. And then these charms,
which had already begun to rob my heart of its peace, were made more
seductive by a calmly resolved and yet pensive expression of
countenance. Indeed, at a second glance, it seemed to approach
melancholy, and bespoke that frame of mind when sorrow feeds most
upon the heart.
"I touched the frame, and instantly it fell to the floor, with a
great noise. And while in the midst of my confusion, a key clicked
in the door, and a lady of stately figure, dressed in deep mourning,
advanced into the parlor, and, being deeply veiled, took a seat upon
the sofa, quite like a stranger. I bowed and said, 'Madam, I am
waiting for the mistress of the house. You are on a similar errand,
I take it?' To which she replied in a voice of peculiar sweetness,
that she was the person, and would have me make known my business.
She then threw back one veil, and then another, until she discovered
a face even more beautiful than that of the portrait I had just
replaced on the wall. I must also mention that she seemed conscious
of her charms, for with an air of much grace and dignity, she raised
her jeweled fingers, so tapering, and smoothed the glossy black hair
over her polished brow, while the diamonds of her bracelets sparkled
through the white ruffles that hung from her wrists.
"'My name, madam,' said I, 'is Major Roger Sherman Potter, commonly
called Major Roger Potter. I make no doubt you have heard of me, for
enough has been said of me in the newspapers. But I will say no more
of that just now, for it does not become a military man to speak of
himself."
"'Your name, sir,' said she, condescending a bow and a smile, 'is
quite familiar. Indeed, if you will pardon it in me, I may say that
I have had great curiosity to see a gentleman so popular, for I was
raised and educated among distinguished people, and am fond of their
society, which I cannot now enjoy, since fortune has treated me
unkindly, and I am not what I was, as you may see by my humble
calling.'
"I begged she would take the most favorable view of her prospects,
and at the same time not feel embarrassed.
"'But tell me, sir,' she resumed, with a look of great earnestness,
'did you come on business for my first husband, Mr. Primrose?'
"Not wishing to make her anxiety painful, (for I am not a man of
evil inclinations,) I discovered my business to her, but said
nothing of the state of my finances.
"'You have my thanks for the condescension you have vouchsafed,
sir,' she replied, evidently much pleased at the prospect of so
famous a lodger; 'but I fear my lodgings are far too humble for one
of your position. They are small, and furnished according to my
scanty means.'
"I at once told her that obscurity was my object, and that it was
enough that there was peace in the house, for I was engaged over a
mighty project, which I could not perfect with so many striving to
do me honor. If she was before pleased, she now became exultant, and
nimbly led the way up two pair of narrow stairs, entering more
freely into conversation, and saying the parlor was at my service
when company called. 'Now these are not large, but comfortable
rooms,' she continued, showing me into a little ten by twelve nook;
'I have six lodgers similarly situated, and they are all genteel
men, doing a large business.' She then began giving me an account of
their various business pursuits, which was so confused and
indefinite as to render it impossible clearly to understand whether
they were bankers, doctors, clergymen, or stock brokers. In truth,
by her own showing, they conversed of stocks, chips, sermons, and
splits, with equal facility. But there was something I could not
exactly understand, in the manner of her thanking God, that though
reduced to this humble style of living she was comfortable, and
expected soon to see the day when she would be restored to the rank
in society from which she had fallen. 'There was, as I am a lady,'
she added, with a look of sorrow shadowing her face, 'a time when
every button on my father's coat cost a dollar, and our family
servants all wore as nice liveries as could be seen in Fifth Avenue,
for we had them changed a number of times, until we got them unlike
any one else's.' She was evidently distressed with some past
trouble; and when I said, 'Madam, I will do myself the honor to
become an inmate of your house,' she seemed so overjoyed that it was
with difficulty she could withhold her tears. On inquiring her name
and what business her husband followed, she replied that her name
was Mrs. Pickle, (she having dropped Primrose for sufficient cause,)
and that of her husband, Mr. Stephen Pickle, of the young American
Banking House of Pickle, Prig, & Flutter, doing business near Wall
Street. We returned to the parlor, and when the valise bearing my
name, which I took good care to keep in sight, was sent up stairs,
and I had told her how the accident to her portrait was caused, she
blushed and was so ready to unbosom her griefs, that she immediately
proceeded to give me an account of herself, and how it was that she
was Mrs. Pickle and Mr. Primrose still living.
"'Pardon me, sir,' said she, 'but as I know you think it strange
that I have adopted this humble calling, I will tell you in brief
how it happened. A change came over my father's fortunes, and from
being a rich and influential merchant, he was, by what is called
endorsing for others, reduced to a state of poverty, and so harassed
by his creditors, who in their grasping for what he had would give
him no chance to retrieve his fortunes, that he put an end to a
miserable existence by hanging himself. My father was a man of
simple tastes, and set a higher value upon his good name than upon
the worldly show which was coming into fashion at that time. With my
mother, it was quite different, for although she was much given to
the church, and subscribed largely for the support of an expensive
clergyman, she had a love of worldly show and ostentation, that not
only reduced my father's means, but grievously distressed him. The
sudden turn in our circumstances produced but little change in my
mother, who set great value upon the good looks she imagined me
possessing; and having some money of her own, we took board with
Mrs. Marmaduke, who kept a boarding house for people of distinction,
in Fifth Avenue, and was famous for the style and luxury of her
establishment, which had been the scene of several rich matrimonial
alliances.
"'Having previously formed the acquaintance of a poor but
respectable young artist and poet, whose kindness and sincerity, as
well as the great love he bore his art, in which he had already
gained celebrity, so won my affections, that it seemed as if I could
be happy with none other. And when my mother discovered how our
inclinations were bent, she forbid him coming to the house. He had
no money, she said, and painters were, in addition to being very
generally fools, a shabby class of men, who were thought little of
among rich merchants, and never took rank in the aristocracy-at
least, not in this country. Putting these things together, she could
not think of giving her consent to an alliance with such a person.
In truth, sir, though my narrative may not interest you, I may
mention that she more than once declared that painters and poets
were such a shiftless set that they ought to be bundled into the sea
together. 'Think! Maria,' she would say, 'of a thing with a weasel
of dirty paints in his hands, and a bit of canvas, cut, may be, from
some old ship's sail, before him, and he trying to get some curious
notion upon it! A pretty person to go into society with, indeed!'
This did not deter me from my purpose, so we would meet in saloons
on Broadway, and exchange our affections, and concert measures for
our mutual relief.
"'Matters proceeded in this way until Mr. Primrose and his friend,
Mr. Sparks, came to the house. They professed to be Englishmen of
wealth and station, educated at Oxford, and acquainted with enough
of the nobility to enable them to mix with our best society.
According to Mr. Sparks, his friend Mr. Primrose, to whom he paid
great deference, had riches enough to purchase a kingdom or two. Mr.
Primrose had a servant in livery, and arms painted on his carriage
door, and the fleetest of horses. My mother was much taken with him,
and Mrs. Marmaduke declared that a more perfect gentleman had never
graced her drawing rooms. He took them both to operas, and balls,
and sleigh rides. And he paid them such court as completely won
their confidence. In truth, they were both so enamored of him, that
they were singing his praises from morning till night. And when he
had sufficiently won them over to him, he commenced paying his
addresses to me, and so earnestly did he press his suit, that my
mother declared it would not do to protract so excellent a chance.
And notwithstanding my hand had been pledged to Milando, which was
the name of the young painter, my mother insisted, and our nuptials
were celebrated, though much against my will. It seems a report,
which my mother did not see fit to contradict, had got out that I
was the only heir to a large estate, which was the prize Mr.
Primrose sought to secure. In two short months the truth was
revealed. I had no dowry, which so disappointed him, that he began
to cast reflections on my poverty, adding that he had been deceived
by the false representations of my artful mother. This gave me so
much pain, that I sought relief for my distress in frequenter
interviews with Milando, who, seeing himself ill treated for his
poverty, resolved to quit a profession in which neglect and distrust
too often repay its votaries, and take to one that would at least
afford him money; which, according to the fashion of the day, was
the only passport into what was called good society.
"'Mr. Sparks quarreled with Mr. Primrose, who was in arrears for
board with Mrs. Marmaduke, and let it out that he was only a knight
of the needle, who had formerly resided in Bermuda, which he left
for a cause it is not worth while to mention here, though he was
skillful enough at making breeches, and getting up odd liveries for
ambitious families. He was missing one morning, and as his friend
Sparks had taken the precaution to precede him, there were so many
inquiries for him at Mrs. Marmaduke's, that it soon became clear he
had left to escape the importunities of his creditors. In truth, he
was declared an impostor, and the whole affair got into the
newspapers, the editors of which set about ferreting out a few of
his exploits, when it was found that the deception practiced upon me
was only one among many, for he had gained a victory over the
affections of several widows, and left no less than three wives to
sorrow. And so skillfully were his exploits performed, that each
victim imagined him the most sincere and devoted of lovers.
"'This sad occurrence, and its publicity, so mortified my mother,
who was harassed with debts she had contracted to keep up
appearances, that she survived it but a month. I was then left like
a hapless mariner tossed on a troubled sea, and with no friend near.
Mrs. Marmaduke made me a mere vassal in her house, and the inmates
treated me as if I were born to be scorned. Milando was my only
hope, my only true friend-the only one to whom I could confide my
heart achings, to whom I could look to save me from a life of shame,
to which remorse had almost driven me. And will you believe that he
invoked a curse, and resolved to leave his profession, (for he could
not live like those shabby men of the newspapers,) to seek means
whereby he could live without struggling in poverty and want. True,
the wealthy gave him orders for paintings, affected great love for
his art, of which they held themselves great patrons when they had
bought two pictures. But, as a general thing, they had most excuses
when he called, and were least ready to pay, which so tried his
proud spirit, that he more than once resigned the pictures to them
rather than be a supplicant for his pay.
"'Necessity at last drove him to painting Venuses for keepers of bar
rooms, who regarded art only as a means to excite the baser passions
of the vulgar. And though he was by this enabled to meet the demands
on his purse, the thought of degrading an art to which he had given
the devotions of his life, grieved him to the heart. He therefore
resolved that, as he could not make it serve the high purpose for
which it was intended, he would abandon it. And when he changed his
profession, he changed his name. He is now Mr. Pickle of the firm I
have before mentioned. We were privately married under that name,
and have since lived as humble as you see us. When we have got money
enough, my husband will return to his profession. And now, sir, pray
adapt yourself to our humble mode of living, and remember that our
home is your home while you remain with us.'"