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" She lifcliteil a potent pipe." See page -l-l.
ZP/rc -
SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
/BY
W. D. HOWELLS,
AUTHOR OF "VENETIAN LIFE," "ITALIAN JOUENEYS," ETC.
NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
AUGUSTUS HOPPIN.
'w OF ca^i;:^
>iN
/,;> COPYRIGHT V
BOSTON:
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY.
Late Ticknor & Fields, and Fields, Osgood, & Co.
1872.
Yo
c-'
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by
AViLLIAM D. IIOWELLS,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusette
RIVERSIDE, CASIBRrDGB;
BTEREOTTPED AND PRINTED BT
H. 0. HOUGHTON AND COMPANY.
v3
o
^4
i
CONTENTS.
PAOB.
Mrs. Johnson 11
Doorstep Acquaintance 35
A Pedestrian Tour 60
By Horse-Car to Boston 91
A Day's Pleasure 115
A Romance of Real Life 171
Scene 190
Jubilee Dats 195
Some Lessons from the School of AIokals . . 220
Flitting . . 241
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
SlIK LIGHllil) A roTKXT PIPE /•
" HUT 1 SUPPOSE THIS WINE IS Nor JIADE UK (JUAPES, SIGNOU ? "
LOOKING ABOUT, I SAW TWO WOMEN
THE YOUNG LADY IX BLACK, WHO ALIGIITI-.U Af A Mosr ()i;i)I-
NARY LITTLE STREET
THAT SWEET YOUNG BLONDE, WHO AUHnES BY MOST TRAINS
FP.ANK AND LUCY STALKED AHEAD, WITH SHAWLS DRAGGING
FROM THEIR ARMS
THEY SKIRMISH ABOUT HIM WITH EVERY SORT OF QUERY
A GAUNT FIGURE OF FORLORN AND CURIOUS SSIARTNESS .
THE SPECTACLE AS WE BEHELD IT
VACANT AND CEREMONIOUS ZEAL
PAGE
'niiit. ■
65
!)-2
11!)
154
ir.i
171
199
252
SUBUEBAI^ SKETCHES.
SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
MRS. JOHNSON.
It was on a morning of the lovely New England
May that we left the horse-car, and, spreading our
umbrellas, walked down the street to our new home
in Charlesbridge, through a storm of snow and rain
so finely blent by the influences of this fortunate
climate, that no flake knew itself from its sister drop,
or could be better identified by the people against
whom they beat in unison. A vernal gale from the
east fanned our cheeks and pierced our marrow and
chilled our blood, while the raw, cold green of the
adventurous grass on the borders of the sopping side-
walks gave, as it peered through its veil of melting
snow and freezing rain, a peculiar cheerfulness to the
landscape. Here and there in the vacant lots aban-
doned hoop-skirts defied decay ; and near the half-
finished wooden houses, empty mortar-beds, and bits
of lath and slate strewn over the scarred and muti-
lated ground, added their interest to the scene. A
shaggy drift hung upon the trees before our own
house (which had been built some years earlier),,
while its swollen eaves wept silently and incessantly
12 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
upon the embankments lifting its base several feet
above the common level.
This heavenly weather, which the Pilgrim Fathers,
with the idea of turning their thoughts effectually
from earthly pleasures, came so far to discover, con-
tinued with slio;ht amelioration throuo-hout the month
of May and far into June ; and it was a matter of
constant amazement with one who had known less
austere climates, to behold how vegetable life struff-
gled with the hostile skies, and, in an atmosphere as
chill and damp as that of a cellar, shot forth the buds
and blossoms upon the pear-trees, called out the sour
Puritan courage of the currant-bushes, taught a reck-
less native grape-vine to wander and Avanton over
the southern side of the fence, and decked the banks
with violets as fearless and as fragile as New England
girls ; so that about the end of June, when the heav-
ens relented and the sun blazed out at last, there was
little for him to do but to redden and darken the
daring fruits that had attained almost their full growth
without his countenance.
Then, indeed, Charlesbridge appeared to us a kind
of Paradise. The wind blew all day from the south-
west, and all day in the grove across the way the
orioles sang to their nestlings. The butcher's wagon
rattled merrily up to our gate every morning ; and
if we had kept no other reckoning, we should have
known it was Thursday by the grocer. We were
living in the country with the conveniences and lux-
uries of the city about us. The house was almost
new and in perfect repair ; and, better than all, the
MRS. JOHNSON. 13
kitchen had as yet given no signs of unrest in those
volcanic agencies which are constantly at work there,
and which, with sudden explosion, make Hercula-
neums and Pompeiis of so many smihng households.
Breakfast, dinner, and tea came up with illusive
regularity, and were all the most perfect of their
kind ; and we laughed and feasted in our vain se-
curity. We had out from the city to banquet with
us the friends we loved, and we were inexpressibly
proud before them of the Help, who first wrought
miracles of cookery in our honor, and then appeared
in a clean white apron, and the glossiest black hair,
to wait upon the table. She was young, and cer-
tainly very pretty ; she was as gay as a lark, and
was courted by a young man whose clothes would
have been a credit, if they had not been a reproach,
to our lowly basement. She joyfully assented to the
idea of staying with us till she married.
In fact, there was much that was extremely pleas-
ant about the little place when the warm weather
came, and it was not wonderful to us that Jenny was
willing to remain. It was very quiet ; we called
one another to the window if a large dog went by
our door ; and Avhole days passed without the move-
ment of any wheels but the butcher's upon our
street, which flourished in ragweed and butter-cups
and daisies, and in the autumn burned, like the
borders of nearly all the streets in Charlesbridge,
with the pallid azure flame of the succor)'". The
neighborhood was in all things a frontier between
city and country. The horse-cars, the type of such
14 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
civilization — full of imposture, discomfort, and sul)-
lime possibility — as we yet possess, went by the
head of our street, and might, perhaps, be available
to one skilled in calculating the movements of
comets ; while two minutes' walk would take us into
a wood so wild and thick that no roof was visible
through the trees. We learned, like innocent pas-
toral people of the golden age, to know the several
voices of the cows pastured in the vacant lots, and,
like ensine-drivers of the iron acje, tO' distinguish the
different whistles of the locomotives passing on the
neicrhborino; railroad. The trains shook the house
as they thundered along, and at night were a kind
of company, while by day we had the society of the
innumerable birds. Now and then, also, the little
ragged boys in charge of the cows — which, tied by
long ropes to trees, forever wound themselves tight
up against the trunks, and had to be unwoimd with
PTeat ado of hootino- and hammering — came and
peered lustfully through the gate at our ripening
pears. All round us carpenters were at work build-
ing new houses ; but so far from troubling us, the
strokes of their hammers fell softly upon the sense,
like one's heart -beats upon one's own consciousness
in the lapse from all fear of pain under the blessed
charm of an anaesthetic.
We played a little at gardening, of course, and
planted tomatoes, which the chickens seemed to like,
for they ate them up as fast as they ripened ; and
we watched with pride the growth of our Lawton
blackberries, which, after attaining the most stal-
MES. JOHNSON. 15
wart proportions, were still as bitter as the scrub-
biest of their savage brethren, and which, when by
advice left on the vines for a week after they turned
black, were silently gorged by secret and gluttonous
flocks of robins and orioles. As for our grapes, the
rVost cut them off in the hour of their triumph.
So, as I have hinted, we were not surprised that
•Jenny should be willing to remain with us, and were
xs little prepared for her desertion as for any other
change of our moral state. But one day in Septem-
ber she came to her nominal mistress with tears in
her beautiful eyes and protestations of unexampled
devotion upon her tongue, and said that she was
afraid she must leave us. She liked the place, and
she never had worked for any one that was more of
a lady, but she had made up her mind to go into the
city. All this, so far, was quite in the manner of
domestics who, in ghost stories, irive warnino- to the
occupants of haunted houses ; and Jenny's mistress
listened in suspense for the motive of her desertion,
expecting to hear no less than that it was something
which walked up and down the stairs and dragged
iron links after it, or something that came aner goder un po' dl clima
prima di morire). Our climate was the only thing
he had against us ; in every other respect he was a
New-Englander, even to the early stages of con-
sumption. He told me the story of his whole life,
and of how in his adventurous youth he had left
Milan and sojourned some years in Naples, vainly
seeking his fortune there. Afterwards he went to
Greece, and set up his ancestral business of green-
grocer in Athens, faring there no better, but rather
worse than in Naples, because of the deeper wicked-
ness of the Athenians, who cheated him right and
left, and whose laws gave him no redress. The
Neapolitans were bad enough, he said, making a wry
face, but the Greeks ! — and he spat the Greeks out
on the grass. At last, after much misfortune in
42 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
Europe, he betliouglit liim of coming to America,
and he had never regretted it, but for the cHmate.
You spent a good deal here, — nearly all you earned,
— but then a poor man was a man, and the people
were honest. It was wonderfal to him that they all
knew how to read and write, and he viewed with
inexpressible scorn those Irish who came to this
country, and were so little sensible of the benefits it
conferred upon them. Boston he believed the best
city in America, and " Tell me," said he, " is there
such a thing anywhere else in the world as that
Public Library ? " He, a poor man, and almost
unknown, had taken books from it to his own room,
and was master to do so whenever he liked. He
had thus been enabled to read Botta's history of the
United States, an enormous compliment both to the
country and the work which I doubt ever to have
been paid before ; and he knew more about Wash-
ington than I did, and desired to know more than I
could tell him of the financial question among us.
So we came to national politics, and then to Euro-
pean affairs. " It appears that Garibaldi will not go
to Rome this year," remarks my scissors-grinder,
who is very red in his sympathies. " The Emperor
forbids ! Well, patience ! And that blessed Pope,
what does he want, that Pope ? He will be king
and priest both, he will wear two pairs of shoes at
once ! " I must confess that no other of my door-
step acquaintance had so clear an idea as this one of
the difference between things here and at home. To
the minds of most we seemed divided here as there
" But I .suitjiusL' this wine is not made of j^rapes, signer? " See pasre 43.
DOORSTEP ACQUAINTANCE. 43
into rich and poor, — signori^ persone civili, and
povera gente, — and their thoughts about us did not
go beyond a speculation as to our individual willing-
ness or ability to pay for organ -grinding. But this
Lombard was worthy of his adopted country, and J
forgive him the frank expression of a doubt that one
day occurred to him, when offered a glass of Italian
wine. He held it daintily between him and the sun
for a smiling moment, and then said, as if our wine
must needs be as ungenuine as our Italian, — was
perhaps some expression from the surrouncUng cur-
rant-bushes, harsh as that from the Northern tongues
which could never give his language the true life
and tonic charm, — " But I suppose this wine is not
made of grapes, signor ? " Yet he was a very cour-
teous old man, elaborate in greeting and leave-taking,
and with a quicker sense than usual. It was ac-
counted delicacy in him, that, when he had bidden-
us a final adieu, he should never come near us again,
though the date of his departure was postponed some
weeks, and we heard him tinkling down the street,
and stopping at the neighbors' houses. He was a
keen-faced, thoughtful-looking man ; and he wore a
blouse of blue cotton, from the pocket of which
always dangled the leaves of some wild salad culled
from our wasteful vacant lots or prodigal waysides.
Altogether different in character was that Triest-
ine, who came one evening to be helped home at the
close of a very disastrous career in Mexico. He
was a person of innumerable bows, and fluttered
his bright-colored compliments about, till it appeared
44 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
that never before had such amiable people been
asked charity by such a worthy and generous suf-
ferer. In Trieste he had been a journalist, and it
was evident enough from his speech that he was of
a good education. He was vain of his Italian accent,
which was peculiarly good for his heterogeneously
peopled native city ; and he made a show of that
marvelous facility of the Triestines in languages, by
taking me down French books, Spanish books, Ger-
man books, and reading from them all with the prop-
erest accent. Yet with this boyish pride and self-
satisfaction there was mixed a tone of bitter and
worldly cynicism, a belief in fortune as the sole
providence. As nearly as I could make out, he
was a Johnson man in American politics ; upon the
Mexican question he was independent, disdaining
French and Mexicans alike. He was with the for-
mer from the first, and had continued in the service
of Maximilian after their withdrawal, till the execu-
tion of that prince made Mexico no place for adven-
turous merit. He was now o;oino; back to his native
country, an ungrateful land enough, which had ill
treated him long ago. but to which he nevertheless
returned in a perfect gayety of temper. What a
light-hearted rogue he was, — with such merry eyes,
and su^cli a pleasant smile shaping his neatly trimmed
beard and mustache ! After he had supped, and he
stood with us at the door taking leave, something
happened to be said of Italian songs, whereupon this
blithe exile, whom the compassion of strangers was
enabling to go home after many years of unprofitable
I
DOORSTEP ACQUAINTANCE. 4£
toil and danger to a country that had loved him not,
fell to caroling a Venetian barcarole, and went
sweetly away in its cadence. I bore him company
as far as the gate of another Italian-speaking signor,
and was there bidden adieu with great effusion, so
that I forgot till he had left me to charge him not to
be in fear of the house-dog, which barked but did
not bite. In calling this after him, I had the mis-
fortune to blunder in my verb. A man of another
nation — perhaps another man of his own nation —
would have cared rather for what I said than how I
said it ; but he, as if too zealous for the honor of his
beautiful language to endure a hurt to it even in that
moment of erief, liftino; his hat, and bowino; for the
last time, responded with a " Morde, non morsica,
sign ore ! " and passed in under the pines, and next
day to Italy.
There is a little old Genoese lady comes to sell us
pins, needles, thread, tape, and the like roha, whom
I regard as leading quite an ideal life in some re-
spects. Her traffic is limited to a certain number of
families who speak more or less Italian ; and her
days, so far as they are concerned, must be passed
in an atmosphere of sympathy and kindliness. The
truth is, we Northern and New World folk cannot
help but cast a little romance about whoever come?
to us from Italy, whether we have actually known
the beauty and charm of that land or not. Then
this old lady is in herself a very gentle and lovable
kind of person, with a tender mother-face, which is
also the face of a child. A smile plays always upon
46 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
her wrinkled visage, and her quick and restless eyes
are full of friendliness. There is never much stuff
in her basket, however, and it is something of a mys-
tery how she manages to live from it. None but an
Italian could, I am sure ; and her experience must
test the full virtue of the national genius for cheap
salads and much-extenuated soup-meat. I do not
know whether it is native in her, or whether it is a
grace acquired from long dealing with those kindly-
liearted customers of hers in Charlesbridge, but she
is of a most mmiificent spirit, and returns every
smallest benefit with some present from her basket.
She makes me ashamed of thino;s I have written
about the sordidness of her race, but I shall vainly
seek to atone for them by open-handedness to her.
She will give favor for favor ; she will not even
count the money she receives ; our bargaining is a
contest of the courtliest civilities, ending in many
an " Adieu ! " " To meet again ! " " Remain well ! "
and " Finally ! " not surpassed if rivaled in any
Italian street. In her ineffectual Avay, she brings
us news of her different customei's, breaking up their
stout Saxon names into tinkling polysyllables which
suggest them only to the practiced sense, and is per-
fectly patient and contented if we mistake one for
another. She loves them all, but she pities them as
living in a terrible climate ; and doubtless in her
heart she purposes one day to go back to Italy, there
to die. In the mean time she is very cheerful ; she,
too, has had her troubles, — what troubles I do not
remember, but those that come by sickness and by
DOORSTEP ACQUAINT ANCE. 47
death, and that really seem no sorrows until they
come to us, — yet she never complains. It is hard
to make a living, and the house-rent alone is six dol-
lars a month ; but still one lives, and does not fare
so ill either. As it does not seem to be in her to
dislike any one, it must be out of a harmless guile,
felt to be comforting to servant-ridden householders,
that she always speaks of " those Irish," her neigh-
bors, with a bated breath, a shaken head, a hand
lifted to the cheek, and an averted countenance.
Swarthiest of the organ-grinding tribe is he who
peers up at my window out of infinitesimal black
eyes, perceives me, louts low, and for form's sake
grinds me out a tune before he begins to talk. As
Ave parley together, say it is eleven o'clock in the
forenoon, and a sober tranquillity reigns upon the
dust and noddino; weeds of Benicia Street. At that
hour the organ-grinder and I are the only persons
of our sex in the whole suburban population ; all
other husbands and fathers having eaten their break-
fasts at seven o'clock, and stood up in the early
horse-cars to Boston, whence they will return, with
aching backs and quivering calves, half-pendant by
leathern straps from the roofs of the same luxurious
conveyances, in the evening. The Italian might go
and grind his organ upon the front stoop of any one
of a hundred French-roof houses around, and there
would be no arm within strono- enouMi to thrust him
thence ; but he is a gentleman in his way, and, as
he prettily explains, he never stops to play except
where the window smiles on him : a frowning lattice
48 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
he will pass in silence. I behold in him a disap-«
pointed man, — a man broken in health, and of a
liver baked by long sojourn in a tropical clime. In
large and dim outline, made all the dimmer by his
dialect, he sketches me tlie story of his life ; how in
his youth he ran away from the Milanese for love
of a girl in France, who, dying, left him with so
little purpose in the world that, after working at his
trade of plasterer for some years in Lyons, he lis-
tened to a certain gentleman going out upon govern-
ment service to a French colony in South America.
This gentleman wanted a man-servant, and he said
to my organ-grinder, " Go with me and I make your
fortune." So he, who cared not whither he went,
went, and found himself in the tropics. It was a
hard life he led there ; and of the wages that had
seemed so great in France, he paid nearly half to
his laundress alone, being forced to be neat in his
master's house. The service was not so irksome
in-doors, but it was the hunting beasts in the forest
all day that broke his patience at last.
" Beasts in the forest ? " I ask, forgetfrJ of the
familiar sense of bestie, and figuring cougars at least
by the word.
" Yes, those little beasts for the natui-alists, — flies,
bugs, beetles, — Heaven knows what."
" But this brought you money ? "
" It brought my master money, but me aches and
pains as many as you will, and at last the fever.
When that was burnt out, I made up my mind to
ask for more pay, and, not getting it, to quit that
DOORSTEP ACQUAINTANCE. 49
service. I think the signer would have given it, —
but the signora ! So I left, empty as I came, and
was cook on a vessel to Ncav York."
This was the black and white of the man's story.
I lose the color and atmosphere which his manner as
well as his words bestowed upon it. He told it in a
cheerful, impersonal kind of way as the romance of
a poor devil which had interested him, and might
possibly amuse me, leaving out no touch of character
in his portrait of the fat, selfish master, — yielding
enough, however, but for his grasping wife, who,
with all her avarice and greed, he yet confessed to
be very handsome. By the wave of a hand he
hoiised them in a tropic residence, dim, cool, close
shut, kept by servants in white linen moving with
mute slippered feet over stone floors ; and by another
gesture he indicated the fierce thorny growths of the
forest in which he hunted those vivid insects, — the
luxuriant savannas, the gigantic ferns and palms,
the hush and shining desolation, the presence of the
invisible fever and death. There was a touch, too,
of inexpressible sadness in his half-ignorant mention
of the exiles at Cayenne, who were forbidden the
wide ocean of escape about them by those swift gun-
boats keeping their coasts and swooping down upon
every craft that left the shore. He himself had seen
one such capture, and he made me see it, and the
mortal despair of the fugitives, standing upright in
their boat with the idle oars in their unconscious
hands, while the corvette swept toward them.
For all his misfortunes, he was not cast down.
4
50 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
He had that lightness of temper which seems proper
to most northern Italians, whereas those from the
south are usually dark-mooded, sad-faced men.
Nothing -surpasses for unstudied misanthropy of
expression the visages of different Neapolitan harpers
who have visited us ; but they have some right to
their dejected countenances as being of a yet half-
civilized stock, and as real artists and men of genius.
Nearly all wandering violinists, as well as harpers,
are of their race, and they are of every age, from
that of mere children to men in their prime. They
are very rarely old, as many of the organ-grinders
are ; they are not so handsome as the Italians of the
north, though they have invariably fine eyes. They
arrive in twos and threes ; the violinist briefly tunes
his fiddle, and tlie harper unslings his instrument,
and, with faces of profound gloom, they go through
their repertory, — pieces from the great composers,
airs from the opera, not unmingled with such efforts
of Anglo-Saxon genius as Champagne Charley and
Captain Jenks of the Horse Marines, which, like the
language of Shakespeare and Milton, hold us and
our English cousins in tender bonds of mutual affec-
tion. Beyond the fact that they come " dal Basili-
cat'," or " dal Principat','' one gets very little out
of these Neapolitans, though I dare say they are
not so surly at heart as they look. Money does not
brighten them to the eye, but yet it touches them,
^nd they are good in playing or leaving off to him
that pays. Long time two of them stood between
the gateway firs on a pleasant summer's afternoon,
DOORSTEP ACQUAINTANCE. 51
and twanged and scraped their harmonious strings,
till all the idle boys of the neighborhood gathered
about them, listening with a grave and still delight.
It was a most serious company : the Neapolitans,
with their cloudy brows, rapt in their music ; and the
Yankee children, with their impassive faces, warily
guarding against the faintest expression of enjoy-
ment; and when at last the minstrels played a brisk
measure, and the music began to work in the blood
of the boys, and one of them shuffling his reluctant
feet upon the gravel, broke into a sudden and resist-
less dance, the spectacle became too sad for con-
templation. The boy danced only from the hips
down ; no expression of his face gave the levity
sanction, nor did any of hi^ comrades : they beheld
him with a silent fascination, but none was infected
by the solemn indecorum ; and when the legs and
music ceased their play together, no comment was
made, and the dancer turned unheated away. A
chance passer asked for what he called the Geary-
baldeye Hymn, but the Neapolitans apparently did
not know what this was.
My doorstep acquaintance were not all of one race ;
now and then an alien to the common Italian tribe
appeared, — an Irish soldier, on his way to Salem,
and willing to show me more of his mutilation than
I cared to buy the sight of for twenty-five cents ;
and more rarely yet an American, also formerly of
the army, but with something besides his wretched-
ness to sell. On the hottest day of last summer such
a one rang the bell, and was discovered on the thresh-
52 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
old wiping with his poor sole hand the sweat that
stood upon his forehead. There was still enough of
the independent citizen in his maimed and emaciated
person to inspire him with deliberation and a show
of that indifference with which we Americans like to
encounter each other ; but his voice was rather faint
when he asked if I supposed we wanted any starch
to-day.
" Yes, certainly," answered what heart there was
within, taking note willfully, but I hope not wantonly,
wlxat an absurdly limp figure he Avas for a peddler of
starch, — "certainly from you, brave fellow;" and
the package being taken from his basket, the man
turned to go away, so very wearily, that a cheap phi-
lanthropy protested : " For shame ! ask him to sit
down in-doors and drink a glass of water."
" No," answered the poor fellow, when this indig-
nant voice had been obeyed, and he had been taken
at a disadvantage, and as it were surprised into the
confession, " my family hadn't any breakfast this
morning, and I've got to hurry back to them."
" Haven't you had any breakfast ? "
" Well, I wa'n't rightly hungry when I left the
house."
" Here, now," popped in the virtue before named,
" is an opportunity to discharge the debt we all owe
to the brave fellows who gave us back our country.
Make it beer."
So it was made beer and bread and cold meat,
and, after a little pressing, the honest soul consented
to the refreshment. He sat down in a cool doorway,
DOORSTEP ACQUAINTANCE. 53
and began to eat and to tell of the fight before
Vicksburg. And if you have never seen a one-
armed soldier making a meal, I can assure you the
sight is a pathetic one, and is rendered none the
cheerfaller by his memories of the fights that muti-
lated him. This man had no very susceptible audi-
ence, but before he was carried off the field, shot
through the body, and in the arm and foot, he had
sold every package of starch in his basket. I am
ashamed to say this now, for I suspect that a man
with one arm, who indulged liimself in going about
under that broiling sun of July, peddling starch, was
very probably an impostor. He computed a good
day's profits of seventy-five cents, and when asked
if that was not very little for the support of a sick
wife and three children, he answered with a quaint
effort at impressiveness, and with a trick, as I im-
agined, from the manner of the regimental chaplain,
" You've done your duty, my friend, and more'n
your duty. If every one did their duty like that, we
should get along." So he took leave, and shambled
out into the furnace-heat, the sun beating upon his
pale face, and his linen coat hugging him close, but
with his basket lighter, and I hope his heart also.
At any rate, this was the sentiment which cheap phi-
lanthropy offered in self-gratulation, as he passed out
of sight : " There ! you are quits with those maimed
soldiers at last, and you have a country which you
have paid for with cold victvmls as they with blood."
We have been a good deal visited by one dis-
banded volunteer, not to the naked eye maimed, nor
54 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
apparently suffering from any lingering illness, yei
who bears, as he tells me, a secret disabling wound
in his side from a spent shell, and who is certainly a
prey to the most acute form of shiftlessness. I do
not recall with exactness the date of our acquaint-
ance, but it was one of those pleasant August after-
noons when a dinner eaten in peace fills the di-
gester with a millennial tenderness for the race too
rarely felt in the nineteenth century. At such a
moment it is a more natural action to loosen than to
tighten the purse-strings, and when a very neatly
dressed young man presented himself at the gate,
and, in a note of indescribable plaintiveness, asked
if I had any little job for him to do that he might
pay for a night's lodging, I looked about the small
domain with a vague longing to find some part of it
in disrepair, and experienced a moment's absurd
relief when he hinted that he would be willing to
accept fifty cents in pledge of future service. Yet
this was not the right principle : some work, real or
apparent, must be done for the money, and the
veteran was told that he might weed the strawberry
bed, though, as matters then stood, it was clean
enough for a strawberry bed that never bore any-
thing. The veteran was neatly dressed, as I have
said : his coat, which was good, was buttoned to the
throat for reasons that shall be sacred against curios-
ity, and he had on a perfectly clean paper collar ; he
was a handsome young fellow, with regular features,
and a solicitously kept imperial and mustache ; his
hair, when he lifted his hat, appeared elegantly oiled
DOORSTEP ACQUAINTANCE. 55
and brushed. I did not hope from this figure that
the work done would be worth the money paid, and,
as nearly as I can compute, the weeds he took from
that bed cost me «, cent apiece, to say nothing of a
cup of tea given him in grace at the end of his
labors.
My acquaintance was, as the reader will be glad
to learn, a native American, though it is to be re-
gretted, for the sake of facts which his case went far
to establish, that he was not a New-Englander by
birth. The most that could be claimed M'as, that he
came to Boston from Delaware when very young,
and that there on that brine-washed granite he had
grown as perfect a flower of helplessness and indo-
lence, as fine a fruit of maturing civilization, as ever
expanded or ripened in Latin lands. He lived, not
only a protest in flesh and blood against the tendency
of democracy to exclude mere beauty from our sys-
tem, but a refutation of those Old World observers,
who denv to our vulgar and bustlinii communities
the refining and elevating gi'ace of Repose. There
was something very curious and original in his
character, from which the sentiment of shame was
absent, but which was not lacking in the fine in-
stincts of personal cleanliness, of dress, of style.
There was nothing of the rowdy in him ; he was
gentle as an Italian noble in his manners : what
other traits they may have had in common, I do not
know ; perhaps an amiable habit of illusion. He
was always going to bring me his discharge papers,
but he never did, though he came often and had
56 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
many a pleasant night's sleep at my cost. If some-
times he did a little work, he spent great part of the
time contracted to me in the kitchen, where it was
understood, quite upon his own agency, that his
wages included board. At other times, he called for
money too late in the evening to work it out that
day, and it has happened that a new second girl,
deceived by his genteel appearance in the uncertain
light, has shown him into the parlor, where I have
found him to his and my own great amusement, as
the gentleman who wanted to see me. Nothing else
seemed to raise his ordinarily dejected spirits so much.
We all know how pleasant it is to laugh at people be-
hind their backs ; but this veteran affoi'ded me at a
very low rate the luxury of a fellow-being whom one
mi^ht lauo-h at to his face as much as one liked.
Yet with all his shamelessness, his pensiveness, his
elegance, I felt that somehow our national triumph
was not complete in him, — that there were yet more
finished forms of self-abasement in the Old World,
till one day I looked out of the window and saw at a
little distance my veteran digging a cellar for an
Irishman. I own that the spectacle gave me a shock
of })leasure, and that I ran down to have a nearer
view of what human eyes have seldom, if ever, be-
held, — an American, pure blood, handling the pick,
the shovel, and the wheelbarrow, while an Irishman
directed his labors. Upon inspection, it appeared
that none of the trees grew with their roots in the
air, in recognition of this great reversal of the
natural law ; all the French-roof houses stood rio;ht
DOORSTEP ACQUAINTANCE. 57
side up. The phenomenon may become more com-
mon in future, unless the American race accom-
plishes its destiny of dying out before the more pop-
ulatory foreigner, but as yet it graced the veteran
with an exquisite and signal distinction. He, how-
ever, seemed to feel unpleasantly the anomaly of his
case, and opened the conversation by saying that he
should not work at that job to-morrow, it hurt his
side ; and went on to complain of the inhumanity of
Americans to Americans. "Why," said he, "they'd
rather give out their jobs to a nigger than to one of
their own kind. I was beatin' carpets for a gentle-
man on the Avenue, and the first thing I know he
give most of 'em to a nigger. I beat seven of 'em
in one day, and got two dollars ; and the nigger beat
'em by the piece, and he got a dollar an' a half
apiece. My luck ! "
Here the Irishman glanced at his hireling, and the
rueful veteran hastened to pile up another wheel-
barrow with earth. If ever we come to reverse
positions generally with our Irish brethren, there is
no doubt but they will get more work out of us than
we do fi-om them at present.
It was shortly after this that the veteran offered to
do second girl's work in my house if I Avould take
him. The place was not vacant ; and as the sum-
mer was now drawing to a close, and I feared to be
left with him on my hands for the winter, it seemed
well to speak to him upon the subject of economy.
The next time he called, I had not about me the
exact sum for a night's lodging, — fifty cents, namelv,
58 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
— and asked him if he thought a dollar would do
He smiled sadly, as if he did not like jesting upon
such a very serious subject, but said he allowed to
work it out, and took it.
" Now, I hope you won't think I am interfering
with your affairs," said his benefactor, " but I really
think you are a very poor financier. According to
your own account, you have been going on from
year to year for a long time, trusting to luck for a
night's lodging. Sometimes I suppose you have to
sleep out-of-doors."
" No, never ! " answered the veteran, Avith some-
thing like scorn. " I never sleep out-doors. I
wouldn't do it."
" Well, at any rate, some one has to pay for your
lodging. Don't you think you'd come cheaper to
your friends, if, instead of going to a hotel every
night, you'd take a room somewhere, and pay for it
by the month? "
" I've thought of that. If I could get a good bed,
I'd try it awhile anyhow. You see the hotels have
raised. I used to get a lodgin' and a nice breakfast
for a half a dollar, but now it is as much as you can
do to get a lodgin' for the money, and it's just as
dear in the Port as it is in the city. I've tried hotels
pretty much everywhere, and one's about as bad as
another."
If he had been a travelled Englishman writing a
book, he could not have spoken of hotels with greater
disdain.
" You see, the trouble with me is, I ain't got any
DOORSTEP ACQUAINTANCE. 59
relations around here. Now," he added, with the
life and eagerness of an inspiration, " if I had a
mother and sister Hvin' down at the Port, say, I
wouldn't go hunting about for these mean little jobs
everywheres. I'd just lay round home, and wait till
something come up big. What I want is a home."
At the instigation of a malignant spirit I asked
the homeless orphan, " Why don't you get married,
then?"
He gave me another smile, sadder, fainter, sweeter
than before, and said : " When would you like to see
me again, so I could work out this dollar? "
A sudden and unreasonable disg-ust for the charac-
ter which had given me so much entertainment suc-
ceeded to my past delight. I felt, moreover, that I
had bought the rio-ht to use some frankness with the
veteran, and I said to him : " Do you know now, I
shouldn't care if I never saw you again ? "
I can only conjecture that he took the confidence
in good part, for he did not appear again after that.
A PEDESTRIAN TOUR.
Walking for walking's sake I do not like. The
diversion appears to me one of the most factitious
of modern enjoyments ; and I cannot help looking
ujDon those who pace their five miles in the teeth of
a north wind, and profess to come home all the live-
lier and better for it, as guilty of a venial hypocrisy.
It is in nature that after such an exercise the bones
should ache and the flesh tremble ; and I suspect
that these harmless pretenders are all the while pay-
ing a secret penalty for their bravado. With a
pleasant end in view, or with cheerful companion-
ship, walking is far from being the worst thing in
life ; though doubtless a truly candid person must
confess that he would rather ride under the same
circumstances. Yet it is certain that some sort of
.recreation is necessary after a day spent within doors ;
and one is really obliged nowadays to take a little
walk instead of medicine ; for one's doctor is sure to
have a mania on the subject, and there is no more
getting pills or powders out of him for a slight indi-
gestion than if they had all • been shot away at the
rebels during the war. For this reason I sometimes
go upon a pedestrian tour, which is of no great ex-
tent in itself, and which I moi-eover modify by keep-
ing always within sound of the horse-car bells, or
easy reach of some steam-car station.
A PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 61
I fear that I should find these rambles dull, but
that their utter lack of interest amuses me. I will
be honest with the reader, though, and any Master
Pliable is fi'ee to forsake me at this point ; for I
cannot promise to be really livelier than my walk.
There is a Slough of Despond in full view, and not
a Delectable Mountain to be seen, unless you choose
so to call the high lands about Waltham, which we
shall behold dark blue against the western sky pres-
ently. As I sally forth upon Benicia Street, the
whole suburb of Charlesbridge stretches about me,
— a vast space upon which I can embroider any
fancy I like as I saunter along. I have no associa-
tions with it, or memories of it, and, at some seasons,
I might wander for days in the most frequented parts
of it, and meet hardly any one I know. It is not,
however, to these parts that I commonly turn, but
northward, up a street upon which a flight of French-
roof houses suddenly settled a year or two since, with
families in them, and many outward signs of per-
manence, though their precipitate arrival might cast
some doubt upon this. I have to admire their uni-
form neatness and prettiness, and I look at their
dormer-windows with the envy of one to whose
weak' sentimentality dormer-windows long appeared
the supreme architectural happiness. But, for all
my admiration of the houses, I find a variety that is
pleasanter in the landscape, when I reach, beyond
them, a little bridge which appears to span a small
stream. It unites banks lined with a growth of trees
and briers nodding their heads above the neiMiborino-
62 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
levels, and suggesting a quiet water-course ; though
in fact it is the Fitchburg Railroad that purls be-
tween them, with rippling freight and passenger
trains and ever-gurgling locomotives. The banks
take the earliest green of spring upon their south-
ward slope, and on a Sunday morning of May, when
the bells are lamenting the Sabbaths of the past, I
find their sunny tranquillity sufficient to give me a
slight heart-ache for I know not what. If I descend
them and follow the railroad westward half a mile, I
come to vast brick-yards, which are not in them-
selves exciting to the imagination, and which yet,
from an irresistible association of ideas, remind me
of Egypt, and are forever newly forsaken of those
who made bricks without straw ; so that I have no "
trouble in erecting temples and dynastic tombs out
of the kilns ; while the mills for grinding the clay
serve me very well for those sad-voiced sakias or
wheel-pumps which the Howadji Curtis heard wail-
inor at their work of drawino; water from the Nile.
A little farther on I come to the boarding-house
built at the railroad side for the French Canadians
who have by this time succeeded the Hebrews in
the toil of the brick-yards, and who, as they loiter in
windy-voiced, good-humored groups about the doors
of their lodgings, insist upon bringing before me the
town of St. Michel at the mouth of the great Mont
Cenis tunnel, where so many peasant folk like them
are always amiably quarreling before the cabarets
when the diligence comes and goes. Somewhere,
there must be a gendarme with a cocked hat and a
A PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 63
sword on, standing with folded arms to represent the
Empire and Peace amono; that rural population ; if I
looked in-doors, I am sui'e 1 should see the neatest
of landladies and landladies' daughters and nieces in
high black silk caps, bearing hither and thither
smoking bowls of bouillon and cafe-au-lait. Well, it
takes as little to make one happy as miserable, thank
Heaven ! and I derive a cheerfulness from this scene
which quite atones to me for the fleeting desolation
suffered from the sunny verdure on the railroad
bank. With repaired spirits I take my way up
through the brick-yards towards the Irish settlement
on the north, passing under the long sheds that sliel-
ter the kilns. The ashes lie cold about the mouths
of most, and the bricks are burnt to the proper com-
plexion ; in others these are freshly arranged over
flues in Avhich the fire has not been kindled ; but in
whatever state I see them, I am reminded of brick-
kilns of boyhood. They were then such palaces of
enchantment as any architect should now vainly at-
tempt to rival with bricks upon the most desirable
corner lot of the Back Bay, and were the homes of
men truly to be envied : men privileged to stay up all
night ; to sleep, as it were, out of doors ; to hear the
wild geese as they flew over in the darkness ; to be
waking in time to shoot the early ducks that visited
the neighboring ponds ; to roast corn upon the ends
of sticks ; to tell and to listen to stories that never
ended, save in some sudden impulse to rise and dance
a happy hoe-down in the ruddy light of the kiln-fires.
If by day they were seen to have the redness of
64 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
eyes of men that looked upon the whiskey when it
was yellow and gave its color in the flask ; if now
and then the fragments of a broken bottle strewed
the scene of their vigils, and a head broken to match
appeared among those good comrades, the boyish
imagination was not shocked by these things, but
accepted them merely as the symbols of a free virile
life. Some such life no doubt is still to be found in
the Dublin to which I am come by the time my re-
pertory of associations with brick-kilns is exhausted ;
but, oddly enough, I no longer care to encounter it.
It is perhaps in a pious recognition of our mortality
that Dublin is built around the Irish grave-yard.
Most of its windows look out upon the sepulchral
monuments and the pretty constant arrival of the
funeral trains with their long- lines of carriages
bringino; to the celebration of the sad ultimate rites
those gay companies of Irish mourners. I suppose
that the spectacle of such obsequies is not at all de-
pressing to the inhabitants of Dublin ; but that, on
the contrary, it must beget in them a feeling which,
if not resignation to death, is, at least, a sort of sub-
acute cheerfulness in his presence. None but a
Dubliner, however, would have been greatly ani-
mated by a scene which I witnessed during a stroll
through this cemetery one afternoon of early spring.
The fact that a marble slab or shaft more or less
sculptured, and inscribed with words more or less
.helpless, is the utmost that we can give to one whom
once we could caress with every tenderness of speech
and touch ; and that, after all, the memorial we raise
Lcicjkiiii;- abch a low ebb
of shabbiness, was a regular boarder, at the least, in
one of the beach hotels. A few other passengers
were, like themselves, mere idlers for a day, and
were eairer to see all tliat the boat or the vovaffe
offered of novelty. There were clerks and men who
had book-keeping written in a neat mercantile hand
upon their faces, and who had evidently been given
that afternoon for a breathing-time ; and there were
strangers who were going down to the beach for the
sake of the charmino- view of the harbor which the
trip afforded. Here and there were people who
were not to be classed with any certainty, — as a pale
young man, handsome in his undesirable way, who
looked like a steamboat pantry boy not yet risen to
be bar-tender, but rapidly rising, and who sat care-
fully balanced upon the railing of the boat, chatting
with two young girls, who heard his broad sallies with
continual snickers, and interchanged saucy comments
with that prompt up-and-coming manner which is so
large a part of non-humorous humor, as Mr. Lowell
calls it, and now and then pulled and pushed each
other. It was a scene worth study, for in no other
country could anything so bad have been without
being vastly worse ; but here it was evident that
there was nothing worse than you saw ; and, indeed,
these persons formed a sort of relief to the other
passengers, who were nearly all monotonously well-
behaved. Amongst a few there seemed to be
acquaintance, but the far greater part were unknown
to one another, and there were no words wasted by
A day's pleasure. 139
any one. I believe the English traveller who ha&
taxed our nation with inquisitiveness for half a cen-
tury is at last beginning to find out that we do not
ask questions because we have the still more vicious
custom of not opening our mouths at all when with
strangers.
It was a good hour after our friends got aboard
before the boat left her moorings, and then it was
not without some secret dreads of sea-sickness that
Aunt Melissa saw the seething brine widen between
her and the familiar wharf-house, where she now
seemed to have spent so large a part of her life.
But the multitude of really charming and interesting
objects that presently fell under her eye soon dis-
tracted her from those gloomy thoughts.
There is always a shabbiness about the wharves
of seaports ; but I must own that as soon as you get
a reasonable distance from them in Boston, they turn
wholly beautiful. They no longer present that impos-
ing array of mighty ships which they could show in
the days of Consul Plancus, when the commerc^e of
the world sought chiefly our port, yet the docks are
still filled with the modester kinds of shipping, and if
there is not that wilderness of spars and rigging which
you see at New York, let us believe that there is an
aspect of selection and refinement in the scene, so
that one should describe it, not as a forest, but, less
conventionally, as a gentleman's park of masts. The
steamships of many coastwise freight lines gloom,
with their black, capacious hulks, among the lighter
sailing-craft, and among the white, green-shuttered
140 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
passenger-boats ; and behind them those desperate
and grimy sheds assume a picturesqueness, their sag
ging roofs and crooked gables harmonizing agreeably
with the shipping; and then growing up from all
rises the mellow-tinted brick-built city, roof, and
spire, and dome, — a fair and noble sight, indeed,
and one not surpassed for a certain quiet and cleanly
beauty by any that I know.
Our friends lingered long upon this pretty pros-
pect, and, as inland people of light heart and easy
fancy will, the ladies made imagined voyages in each
of the more notable vessels they passed, — all cheap
and safe trips, occupying half a second apiece. Then
they came forward to the bow, that they might not
lose any part of the harbor's beauty and variety, and
informed themselves of the names of each of the
fortressed islands as they passed, and forgot them,
being passed, so that to this day Aunt Melissa has
the Fort Warren rebel prisoners languishing in Fort
Independence. But they made sure of the air of
soft repose that hung about each, of that exquisite
military neatness which distinguishes them, and which
went to Aunt Melissa's housekeeping heart, of the
green, thick turf covering the escarpments, of the
great guns loafing on the crests of the ramparts and
looking out over the water sleepily, of the sentries
pacing slowly up and down with their gleaming
muskets.
" I never see one of those fellows," says Cousin
Frank, " without setting him to the music of that
saddest and subtlest of Heine's poems. You know
it, Lucy ; " and he repeats : —
A day's pleasure. 141
" Mein Herz, mein Herz is traurig,
Doch lustig leuchtet der Mai ;
Ich stehe gelehnt an der Linde,
Hoch auf der alten Bastei.
" Am alten grauen Thurme
Ein Schilderhauschen steht ;
Ein votiigercJckter Bursche
Dort auf und nieder geht.
" Er spielt mit seiner Flinte,
Sie funkelt im Sonnenroth,
Er prasentirt, und scUultert, —
Ich wollt', er schosse mich todt.'
" O ! " says Cousin Lucy, either because the^
poignant melancholy of the sentiment has suddenly
pierced her, or because she does not quite under-
stand the German, — you never can tell about
women. While Frank smiles down upon her in
this amiable doubt, their party is approached by the
tipsy man who has been making the excursion so
merry for the other passengers, in spite of the fact
that there is very much to make one sad in him.
He is an old man, sweltering in rusty black, a two
days' gray beard, and a narrow-brimmed, livid silk
hat, set well back upon the nape of his neck. He
explains to our friends, as he does to every one
whose acquaintance he makes, that he was in former
days a seafaring man, and that he has brought his
two little grandsons here to show them something
about a ship ; and the poor old soul helplessly satur-
ates his phrase with the rankest profanity. The
boys are somewhat amused by their grandsire's state,.
being no doubt familiar with it ; but a very grim-
142 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
looking old lady who sits against tlie pilot-house, and
keeps a sharp eye upon all three, and who is also
doubtless familiar with the unhappy spectacle, seems
not to find it a joke. Her stout matronly umbrella
trembles in her hand when her husband draws near,
and her eye flashes ; but he gives her as wide a
berth as he can, returning her glare with a propi-
tiatory drunken smile and a wink to the passengers to
let them into the fun. In fact, he is full of humor
in his tipsy way, and one after another falls the prey
of his free sarcasm, which does not spare the boat or
any feature of the excursion. He holds for a long
time, by swiftly successive stories of his seafaring
days, a very quiet gentleman, who dares neither
laugh too loudly nor show indifference for fear of
rousing that terrible wit at his expense, and finds his
account in looking down at his boots.
" Well, sir," says the deplorable old sinner, " Ave
was forty days out from Liverpool, with a cargo of
salt and ii-on, and we got caught on the Banks in a
calm. 'Cap'n,' says 1, — I 'us sec'n' mate, — ' 's
they any man aboard this ship knows how to pray ? '
' No,' says the cap'n ; ' blast yer prayers ! ' ' Well,'
says I, ' cap'n, I'm no hand at all to pray, but I'm
goin' to see if prayin' won't git us out 'n this.' And
I down on my knees, and I made a first-class prayer ;
and a breeze sprung up in a minute and carried us
smack into Boston.'!
At this bit of truculent burlesque the quiet man
made a bold push, and walked away with a some-
what sickened face, and as no one now intervened
A day's pleasure. 143
between them, the inebriate laid a familiar hand
upon Cousin Frank's collar, and said with a wink at
his late listener : " Looks like a lerigious man, don't
he ? I guess I give him a good dose, if he does
think himself the head-deacon of this boat." And
he went on to state his ideas of religion, from which
it seemed that he was a person of the most advanced
thinkins, and believed in nothino- worth mentionino;.
It is perhaps no worse for an Infidel to be drunk
than a Christian, but my friend found this tipsy blas-
phemei-'s case so revolting, that he went to the
hand-bag, took out the empty claret-bottle, and seek-
ing a solitary corner of the boat, cast the bottle into
the water, and felt a thrill of uncommon self-approval
as this scapegoat of all the wune at his grocer's
bobbed oif upon the little waves. " Besides, it saves
carrvino; the bottle home," he thouo;ht, not without
a half-conscious reserve, that if his penitence Avere
ever too much for him, he could easily abandon it.
And without the reflection that the gate is always
open behind him, who could consent to enter vipon
any course of perfect behavior ? If good resolutions
could not be broken, who would ever have the cour-
age to form them ? Would it not be intolerable to
be made as good as we ought to be ? Then, admir-
able reader, thank Heaven even for your lapses,
since it is so wholesome and savino- to be well
ashamed of youi'self, from time to time.
" What an outrage," said Cousin Frank, in the
glow of virtue, as he rejoined the ladies, " that that
tipsy rascal should be allowed to go on wuth his
144 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
ribaldry. He seems to pervade the whole boat, and
to subject everybody to his sway. He's a perfect
despot to us helpless sober people, — I wouldn't
openly disagree with him on any account. We
ought to send a Round Robin to the captain, and
ask him to put that religious liberal in irons during
the rest of the voyage."
In the mean time, however, the object of his
indignation had used up all the conversible material
in that part of the boat, and had deviously started
for the other end. The elderly woman with the
umbrella rose and followed him, somewhat wearily,
and with a sadness that appeared more in her move-
ment than in her face ; and as the two went down
the cabin, did the comical affair look, after all, some-
thing like tragedy ? My reader, who expects a little
novelty in tragedy, and not these stale and common
effects, will never think so.
" You'll not pretend, Frank," says Lucy, " that
in such an intellectual place as Boston a crowd as
large as this can be got together, and no distin-
guished literary people in it. I know there are some
notables aboard : do point them out to me. Pretty
near everybody has a literary look."
" Why, that's what we call our Boston look.
Cousin Lucy. You needn't have written anything
to have it, — it's as general as tubercular consump-
tion, and is the effect of our universal culture and
habits of reading. I heard a New-Yorker say once
that if you went into a corner grocery in Boston to
buy a codfish, the man would ask you how you
A day's pleasure. ■ 145
liked ' Lucille,' whilst he was tying it up. No, no ;
you mustn't be taken in by that literary look ; I'm
afraid the real literary men don't always have it.
But I do see a literary man aboard yonder," he
added, craning his neck to one side, and then fur-
tively pointing, — " the most literary man I ever
knew, one of the most literary men that ever lived.
His whole existence is really bound up in books ; he^
never talks of anything else, and never thinks of
anything else, I believe. Look at him, — what kind
and pleasant eyes he's got ! There, he sees me ! "'
cries Cousin Frank, with a pleasurable excitemre ;apt to meet him on these
excursions. Of course, he writes about books, and
very tastefully and modestly ; there's hardly any of
the brand-new immortal English poets, who die off
so rapidly, but has had a good word from him ; but
his heart is with the older fellows, from Chaucer
down ; and, after the Chai'les Lamb epoch, I don't
know whether he loves better the Elizabethan age
or that of Queen Anne. Think of him making me
stop the other day at a bookstall, and read through
an essay out of the " Spectator ! " I did it all for
love of him, though money couldn't have persuaded
me that I had time ; and I'm always telling him lies,
and pretending to be as well acquainted as he is with
authors I hardly know by name, — he seems so
fondly to expect it. He's really almost a disem-
bodied spirit as concerns most mundane interests ;
his soul is in literature, as a lover's in his mistress's
beauty ; and in the next world, where, as the Swe-
de nborgians believe, spirits seen at a distance appear
A day's pleasure. 147
.Ike the things they most resemble in disposition, as
doves, hawks, goats, lambs, swine, and so on, I'm
sure that I shall see his true and kindly soul in the
guise of a noble old Folio, quaintly lettered across
his back in old English text, Tom. J."
While our friends talked and looked about them,
a sudden change had come over the brightness and
warmth of the day ; the blue heaven had turned a
chilly gray, and the water looked harsh and cold.
Now, too, they noted that they were drawing near a
wooden pier built into the water, and that they had
been winding about in a crooked channel between
muddy shallows, and that their course was overrun
with long, disheveled sea-weed. The shawls had
been unstrapped, and the ladies made comfortable in
them.
" Ho for the beach ! " cried Cousin Frank, with a
vehement show of enthusiasm. " Now, then, Aunt
Melissa, prepare for the great enjoyment of the day.
In a few moments we shall be of the elves
' That on the sand with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back.'
Come ! we shall have three hours on the beach, and
that will bring us well into the cool of the evening,
and we can return by the last boat."
" As to the cool of the evening," said Aunt
Melissa, " I don't know. It's quite cool enough for
comfort at present, and I'm sure that anything more
wouldn't be wholesome. What's become of our
beautiful weather ? " she asked, deeply plotting tc
gain time.
148
SUBURBAISI SKETCHES.
" It 's one of our Boston peculiarities, not to say
merits," answered Frank, " which you must have
noticed already, that we can get rid of a fine day
sooner than any other region. While you're saying
how lovely it is, a subtle change is Avrought, and
under skies still blue and a sun still warm tlie keen
spirit of the east wind pierces every nerve, and all
the fine weather within you is chilled and extin-
guished. The gray atmosphere follows, but tlie day
first languishes in yourself. But for this, life in
Boston would be insupportably perfect, if this is
indeed a drawback. You'd find Bostonians to de-
fend it, I dare say. But this isn't a regular east
wind to-day ; it's merely our nearness to the sea."
" I think, Franklin," said Aunt Melissa, " that we
won't go down to the beach this afternoon," as if
she had been there yesterday, and would go to-mor-
row. " It 's too late in the day ; and it wouldn't be
good for the child, I'm sure."
" Well, aunty, it was you determined us to wait
for the boat, and it 's your right to say whether we
shall leave it or not. I'm very willing not to go
ashore. I always find that, after working up to an
object with great effort, it 's surpassingly sweet to
leave it unaccomplished at last. Then it remains
forever in the region of the ideal, amongst the songs
that never were sung, the pictures that never were
painted. Why, in fact, should we force this pleas-
ure ? We've eaten our lunch, we've lost the warm
heart of the day ; why should we poorly drag over
to that damp and sullen beach, where we should find
A day's pleasure. 149
three hours very long, when by going back now we
can keep intact that glorious image of a day by the
sea which we've been cherishino; all summer ? You're
right, Aunt Melissa ; we won't go ashore ; we will
stay here, and respect our illusions."
At heart, perhaps, Lucy did not quite like this
retreat ; it was not in harmony with the youthful
spirit of her sex, but she reflected that she could
come again, — O beneficent cheat of Another Time,
how much thou sparest us in our over-worked, over-
enjoyed world ! — she was very comfortable where
she was, in a seat commanding a perfect view for the
return trip ; and she submitted without a murmur.
Besides, now that the boat had drawn up to the pier,
and discharged part of her passengers, and was wait-
ing to take on others, Lucy was interested in a mass
of fluttering dresses and wide-rimmed sti'aw hats
that drew down toward the " Rose Standish," and
gracefully thronged the pier, and prettily hesitated
about, and finally came aboard with laughter and
little false cries of terror, attended through all by the
New England disproportion of that sex which is so
foolish when it is silly. It was a large picnic party
which had been spending the day upon the beach, as
each of the ladies showed in her face, where, if the
roses upon her cheeks were somewhat obscured by
the imbrowning seaside sun, a bright pink had been
compensatingly bestowed upon the point of her nose.
A mysterious quiet fell upon them all when they
were got aboard and had taken conspicuous places,
which was accounted for presently when a loud shout
150 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
was heard from the shore, and a man beside an am-
bulant photographic machine was seen wildly waving
his hat. It is impossible to resist a temptation of
this kind, and our party all yielded, and posed them-
selves in striking and characteristic attitudes, — even
Aunt Melissa sharing the ambition to appear in a
picture which she should never see, and the nurse
coming out strong from the abeyance in which she
had been held, and lifting the baby high into the air
for a good likeness. The frantic gesticulator on the
shore gave an impi'essive wave Avith both hands, took
the cap from the instrument, turned his back, as pho-
tographers always do, with that air of hiding their
tears, for the brief space that seems so long, and
then clapped on the cap again, while a great sigh of
relief went up from the whole boat-load of passen-
gers. They were taken.
But the interval had been a luckless one for the
" Rose Standish," and when she stirred her wheels,
clouds of mud rose to the top of the water, and
there was no responsive movement of the boat. She
was aground in the fallino; tide.
" There seems a pretty fair prospect of our spend-
ing some time here, after all," said Frank, while the
ladies, who had reluctantly given up the idea of stay-
ing, were now in a quiver of impatience to be off.
The picnic was shifted from side to side ; the engine
groaned and tugged, Captain Miles Standish and his
crew bestirred themselves vigorously, and at last the
boat swung loose, and strode down the sea-weedy
channels ; while our friends, who had already done
A day's pleasure. 151
the great sights of the harbor, now settled themselves
to the enjoyment of its minor traits and beauties.
Here and there they passed small parties on the
shore, which, with their yachts anchored near, or
their boats drawn up from the water, were cooking
an out-door meal by a fire that burned bright red
upon the sands in the late afternoon air. In such
cases, people willingly indulge themselves in salut-
ing whatever craft goes by, and the ladies of these
small picnics, as they sat round the fires, kept up
a great waving of handkerchiefs, and sometimes
cheered the " Rose Standish," though I believe the
Bostonians are ordinarily not a demonstrative race.
Of course the large picnic on boai'd fluttered multi-
tudinous handkerchiefs in response, both to these
people ashore and to those who hailed them from
vessels which they met. They did not refiise the
politeness even to the passengers on a rival boat
when she passed them, though at heart they must
have felt some natural pangs at being passed. The
water was peopled everywhere by all sorts of sail
lagging slowly homeward in the light evening breeze ;
and on some of the larger vessels there were family
groups to be seen, and a graceful smoke, suggestive
of supper, curled from the cook's galley. I suppose
these ships wei'e chiefly coasting craft, of one kind
or another, come from the Provinces at farthest ; but
to the ignorance and the fancy of our friends, they
arrived fi'om all remote and romantic parts of the
world, — from India, from China, and from the South
Seas, with cargoes of spices and gums and tropical
152 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
fruits ; and I see no reason why one should ever
deny himself the easy pleasure they felt in painting
the unknown in such lively hues. The truth is, a
strange ship, if you will let her, always brings you
precious freight, always arrives from Wonderland
under the command of Captain Sinbad. How like a
beautiful sprite she looks afar off, as if she came from
some finer and fairer world than ours ! Nay, we will
not go out to meet her ; we will not go on board ;
Captain Sinbad shall bring us the invoice of gold-
dnst, slaves, and rocs' eggs to-night, and we will
have some of the eggs for breakfast ; or if he never
comes, are we not just as rich ? But I think these
friends of ours got a yet keener pleasure out of the
spectacle of a large and stately ship, that with all
sails spread moved silently and steadily out toward
the open sea. It is yet grander and sweeter to sail
toward the unknown than to come from it ; and
every vessel that leaves port has this destination, and
will bear you thither if you will.
" It may be that the gulf shall wash us down;
It maj- be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew,"
absently murmured Lucy, looking on this beautiful
apparition.
" But I can't help thinking of Ulysses' cabin-boy,
yonder," said Cousin Frank, after a pause ; " can
you. Aunt Melissa?"
" I don't understand what you're talking about,
'Franklin," answered Aunt Melissa, somewhat se-
verely.
A day's pleasure. 153
" Why, I mean that there is a poor wretch of a
boy on board there, who's run away, and whose
heart must be aching just now at the thought of the
home he has left. I hope Ulysses will be good to
him, and not swear at him for a day or two, or
knock him about with a belaying-pin. Just about
this time his mother, up in the country, is getting
ready his supper, and wondering what's become of
him, and torturing herself with hopes that break one
by one ; and to-night when she goes up to his empty
room, having tried to persuade herself that the tru-
ant's come back and climbed in at the window " —
"Why, Franklin, this isn't true, is it?" asks
Aunt Melissa.
" Well, no, let's pray Heaven it isn't, in this case.
It's been true often enouo;h to be false for once."
"What a great, ugly, black object a ship is ! " said
Cousin Lucy.
Slowly the city rose up against the distance,
sharpening all its outlines, and filling in all its famil-
iar details, — like a fact which one dreams is a
dream, and which, as the mists of sleep break away,
shows itself for reality.
The air grows closer and warmer, — it is the
breath of the hot and toil-worn land.
The boat makes her way up through the shipping,
seeks her landing, and presently rubs herself affec-
tionately against the wharf The passengers quickly
disperse themselves upon shore, dismissed each with
an appropriate sarcasm by the tipsy man, who has
had the means of keeping himself drunk throughout,
154 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
and who now looks to the discharge of the boat's
cargo.
As our friends leave the wharf-house behind them,
and straggle uneasily, and very conscious of sun-
burn, up the now silent length of Pearl Street to
seek the nearest horse-cars, they are aware of a
curious fidgeting of the nurse, who flies from one
side of the pavement to the other and violently shifts
the baby from one arm to the other.
" What's the matter ? " asks Frank ; but before
the nurse can answer, " Thim little divils," he per-
ceives that the whooping-coughers of the morning
have taken the occasion to renew a pleasant ac-
quaintance, and are surrounding the baby and nurse
with an atmosphere of whooping-cough.
" I say, friends ! we can't stand this, you know,"
says the anxious father. " We must part some time,
and this is a favorable moment. Now I'll give you all
this, if you don't come another step ! " and he emp-
ties out to them, from the hand-bao;s he carries,
the fragments of lunch which the frugal mind of
Aunt Melissa had caused her to store there. Upon
these the whooping-coughers hurl themselves in a
body, and are soon left round the corner. Yet they
would have been no disgrace to our party, whose
appearance was now most disreputable : Frank and
Lucy stalked ahead, with shawls dragging from their
arms, the former loaded down with hand bao:s and
the latter with India-rubbers ; Aunt Melissa came
next under a burden of bloated umbrellas ; the nurse
last, with her hat awry, and the baby a caricature of
" Frank and Lucy stalked ahead, with shawls draj^'ging from their
arms." See page 154.
A day's pleasure. 155
its morning trimness, in her embrace. A day's
pleasure is so demoralizing, that no party can stana
it, and come out neat and orderly.
" Cousin Frank/' asked Lucy, awfully, " what if
we should meet the Mayflowers now ? " — the May-
flowers being a very ancient and noble Boston family
whose acc[uaintance was the great pride and terror
of our friends' lives.
" I should cut them dead," said Frank, and
scarcely spoke again till his party dragged slowly up
the steps of their minute suburban villa.
At the door his wife met them with a troubled and
anxious face.
" Calamities ? " asked Frank, desperately.
" O, calamities upon calamities ! We've got a
lost child in the kitchen," answered Mrs. Sallie.
" O good heavens ! " cried her husband. " Adieu,
my di'eams of repose, so desirable after the quantity
of active enjoyment I've had ! Well, where is the
lost child?"
III. — The Evening.
"Where is the lost child?" repeats Frank, des-
perately. " Where have you got him ? "
" In the kitchen."
"Why in the kitchen? "
" How's baby ? " demands Mrs. Sallie, with the
incoherent suddenness of her sex, and running half-
way down the steps to meet the nurse. " Um, um,
um-m-m-m," sounds, which may stand for smothered
kisses of rapture and thanksgiving that baby is not a
lost child. " Has he been good, Lucy ? Take him
off and give'him some cocoa, Mrs. O'Gonegal," she
adds in her business-like way, and with a little push
to the combined nurse and baby, while Lucy
answers, " O beautiful ! " and from that moment,
being warned through all her being by something in
the other's tone, casts aside the matronly manner
which she has worn during the day, and lapses into
the comfortable irresponsibility of young-ladyhood.
" What kind of a time did you have ? "
" Splendid ! " answers Lucy. " Delightful, I
think," she adds, as if she thought others might not
think so.
"I suppose you found Gloucester a quaint old
place."
A day's pleasure. 157
" O," saj& Frank, " we didn't go to Gloucester ;
" we found that the City Fathers had chartered the
boat for the day, so we thought we'd go to Nahant."
" Then you've seen your favorite Gardens of
Maolis ! What in the world are they like ? "
" Well ; we didn't see the Gardens of Maolis ;
the Nahant boat was so crowded that we couldn't
think of going on her, and so we decided we'd drive
over to the Liverpool Wharf and go down to Nan-
tasket Beach."
" That was nice. I'm so glad on Aunt Melissa's
account. It 's much better to see the ocean from a
long beach than fi*om those Naliant rocks."
" That's what J said. But, you know, when we
got to the wharf the boat had just left."
" You dont mean it ! Well, then, what under
the canopy did you do ? "
" Why, we sat down in the wharf-house, and
waited from nine o'clock till half-past two for the
next boat."
" Well, I'm glad you didn't back out^ at any rate.
You did show pluck, you poor things ! I hope you
enjoyed the beach after you did get there."
" Why," says Frank, looking down, " we never
got there."
" Never got there ! " gasps Mrs. Sallie. " Didn't
you go down on the afternoon boat ? "
" Yes."
" Why didn't you get to the beach, then ? "
" We didn't go ashore."
" Well, that's liU you, Frank."
158 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
" It 's a great deal more like Aunt Melissa," an-
swers Frank. " The air felt so raw and chilly by
the time we reached the pier, that she declared the
baby would perish if it was taken to the beach.
Besides, nothing would persuade her that Nantasket
Beach was at all different from Liverpool Wharf."
" Never mind, never mind ! " says Mrs. Sallie.
" I don't wish to hear anything more. That's your
idea of a day's pleasure, is it ? I call it a day's dis-
grace, a day's miserable giving-up. There, go in,
go in ; I'm ashamed of you all. Don't let the
neighbors see you, for pity's sake. — We keep him
in the kitchen," she continues, recurring to Frank's
long-unanswered question concerning the lost child,
" because he prefers it as being the room nearest to
the closet where the cookies are. He 's taken ad-
vantage of our sympathies to refuse everything but
cookies."
" I suppose that's one of the rights of lost child-
hood," comments Frank, languidly ; " there's no
law that can compel him to touch even cracker."
" Well, you'd better go down and see what you
can make of him. He's driven u% all wild."
So Frank descends to the region now redolent of
the preparing tea, and finds upon a chair, in the
middle of the kitchen floor, a very forlorn little fig-
ure of a boy, mutely munching a sweet-cake, while
now and then a tear steals down his cheeks and
moistens the grimy traces of former tears. He and
baby are, in the mean time regarding each other with
a steadfast glare, the cook and the nurse supporting
baby in this rite of hospitalitv.
A day's pleasure. 159
•* Well, my little man," says his host, " how did
you get here ? "
The little man, perhaps because he is heartily sick
of the question, is somewhat slow to answer that
there was a fire ; and that he ran after the steamer ;
and a girl found him and brought him up here.
" And that's all the blessed thing you can get out
of him," says cook ; and the lost boy looks as if he
felt cook to be perfectly right.
In spite of the well-meant endeavors of the house-
hold to wash him and brvish him, he is still a dread-
fully travel-stained little boy, and he is powdered in
every secret crease and wrinkle by that dust of old
Charlesbridge, of which we always speak with an
air of affected disgust, and a feeling of ill-concealed
pride in an abomination so strikingly and peculiai'ly
our own. He looks very much as if he had been
following fire-engines about the streets of our learned
and pulverous suburb ever since he could Avalk, and
he certainly seems to feel himself in trouble to a
certain degree ; but there is easily imaginable in his
bearing a conviction that after all the chief care is
with others, and that, though unhappy, he is not
responsible. The principal victim of his sorrows is
also penetrated by this opinion, and after gazing
forlornly upon him for a while, asks mechanically,
" What's your name ? "
" Freddy," is the laconic answer.
"Freddy — ? " trying with an artful inflection tc
lead him on to his surname.
" Freddy," decidedly and conclusively.
160 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
". O, bless me ! What's the name of the street
your papa lives on ? "
This problem is far too deep for Freddy, and he
takes a bite of sweet-cake in sign that he does not
think of solving it. Frank looks at him gloomily for
a moment, and then determines that he can grapple
with the difficulty more successfully after he has had
tea. " Send up the supper, Bridget. I think, my
dear," he says, after they liave sat down, " we'd
better all question our lost child when we've fin-
ished."
So, when they have finished, they have him up in
the sitting-room, and the inquisition begins.
" Now, Freddy," his host says, with a cheerful air
of lifelong friendship and confidence, " 3'ou know
that everybody has got two names. Of course your
first name is Freddy, and it 's a very pretty name.
Well, I want you to think real hard, and then tell
me what your other name is, so I can take you back
to your mamma."
At this allusion the child looks round on the circle
of eager and compassionate faces, and begins to shed
tears and to wring; all hearts.
" What's your name ? " asks Frank, cheerfully, —
" your other name, you know ? "
" Freddy," sobbed the forlorn creature.
" O good heaven ! this'll never do," groaned the
chief inquisitor. " Now, Freddy, try not to cry.
What is your papa's name, — Mr. — ? " with the
leading inflection as before.
" Papa," says Freddy.
" They skirmish about him with every sort of query." See page 161.
A day's pleasure. 161
" O, that'll never do ! Not Mr. Papa? "
" Yes," persists Freddy.
" But, Freddy," interposes Mrs. Sallie, as her
husband falls back baffled, " when ladies come to see
your mamma, what do they call her ? Mrs. — ? "
adopting Frank's alluring inflection.
"Mrs. Mamma," answers Freddy, confirmed in
his error by this course ; and a secret dismay pos-
sesses his questioners. They skirmish about him
with every sort of query ; they try to entrap him into
some kind of revelation by apparently irrelevant
remarks ; they plan ambuscades and surprises ; but
Freddy looks vigilantly round upon them, and guards
his personal history from every approach, and seems
in every way so to have the best of it, that it is
almost exasperating.
" Kindness has proved futile," observes Frank,,
" and I think we ought as a last resort, before yield-
ing ourselves to despair, to use intimidation. Now,
Fred," he says, with sudden and terrible severity,
" what's your father's name ? "
The hapless little soul is really moved to an effort
of memory by this, and blubbers out something that
proves in the end to resemble the family name,
though for the present it is merely a puzzle of unin-
telligible sounds."
" Blackman ? " cries Aunt Melissa, catching des-
perately at these sounds.
On this, all the man and brother is roused in.
Freddy's bosom, and he roars fiercely, " No I he-
ain't a black man ! He's white ! "
11
162 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
" I give it up," says Frank, who has been looking
for his hat. " I'm afraid we can't make anything
out of him ; and I'll have to go and report the case
to the police. But, put him to bed, do, Sallie ; he'.,
dropping with sleep."
So he went out, of course supported morally by a
sense of duty, but I am afraid also by a sense of ad-
venture in some degree. It is not every day that,
in so quiet a place as Charlesbridge, you can have a
lost child cast upon your sympathies ; and I believe
that when an appeal is not really agonizing, we like
so well to have our sympathies touched, we favorites
of the prosperous commonplace, that most of us
would enter ^gerly into a pathetic case of this kind,
even after a day's pleasure. Such was certainly the
mood of my friend, and he unconsciously prepared
himself for an equal interest on the part of the
police ; but this was an error. The police heard his
statement with all proper attention, and wrote it in
full upon the station-slate, but they showed no feel-
ing whatever, and behaved as if they valued a lost
child no more than a child snug at home in his own
crib. They said that no doubt his parents would be
asking at the police-stations for him during the night,
and, as if my friend would otherwise have thought
of putting him into the street, they suggested that
he should just keep the lost child till he was sent for.
Modestly enough Frank proposed that they should
make some inquiry for his parents, and was answered
by the question whether they could take a man off his
Deat^r that purpose ; and remembering that beats in
A day's pleasure. 16b
Charlesbridge were of such vastness that durino; his
whole residence there he had never yet seen a police-
man on his street, he was obliged to own to himself
that his proposal was absurd. He felt the need of
reinstating himself by something more sensible, and
so he said he thought he would go down to the Port
and leave word at the station there ; and the police'
tacitly assenting to this he went.
I who have sometimes hinted that the Square is
not a centre of gayety, or a scene of the greatest
activity by day, feel it right to say that it has some
modest charms of its own on a summer's night, about
the hour when Frank passed through it, when the
post-office has just been shut, and when the differ-
ent groups that haunt the place in front of the clos-
ing shops have dwindled to the loimgers fit though
few who will keep it well into the night, and may
there be found, by the passenger on the last horse-
car out from Boston, wrapt in a kind of social
silence, and honorably attended by the policeman
whose favored beat is in that neighborhood. They
seem a feature of the bygone village life of Charles-
bridge, and accord pleasantly with the town-pump
and the public horse-trough, and the noble elm
that by night droops its boughs so pensively, and
probably dreams of its happy younger days when
there were no canker-worms in the world. Some-
times this choice company sits on the curbing that
goes round the terrace at the elm-tree's foot, and
then I envy every soul in it, — so tranquil it sfeems,
so cool, so careless, so morrowless. I cannot see the
164 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
faces of that luxurious society, but there I imagine
is the local albino, and a certain blind man, who
resorts thither much by day, and makes a strange
kind of jest of his own, with a flicker of humor upon
his sightless face, and a faith that others less unkindly
treated by nature will be able to see the point appar-
ently not always discernible to himself. Late at
night I have a fancy that the darkness puts him on
an equality with other wits, and that he enjoys his
own brilliancy as well as any one.
At the Port station Frank was pleased and soothed
by the tranquil air of the policeman, who sat in his
shirt-sleeves outside the door, and seemed to an-
nounce, by his attitude of final disoccupation, that
crimes and misdemeanors were no more. This
officer at once showed a desirable interest in the
case. He put on his blue coat that he might listen
to the whole story in a. proper figure, and then he
took down the main points on the slate, and said that
they would send word round to the other stations
in the city, and the boy's parents could hardly help
hearincr of him that night.
Returned home, Frank gave his news, and then
he and Mrs. Sallie went up to look at the lost child
as he slept. The sumptuous diet to which he had
confined himself from the first seemed to agree with
him perfectly, for he slept unbrokenly, and appar-
ently without a consciousness of his woes. On a chair
lay his clothes, in a dusty little pathetic heap ; tliey
were well-kept clothes, except for the wrong his
wanderings had done them, and they showed a
A day's pleasure. 16c
motherly care here and there, which it was not easy
to look at with composure. The spectators of his sleep
both thought of the curious chance that had thrown
this little one into their charge, and considered that
he was almost as completely a gift of the Unknown as
if he had been following a steamer in another planet,
and had thence dropped into their yard. His help-
lessness in accounting for himself was as affecting as
that of the sublimest metaphysician ; and no learned
man, no superior intellect, no subtle inquirer among
us lost children of the divine, forgotten home, could
have been less able to say how or whence he came
to be just where he found himself. We wander
away and away ; the dust of the road-side gathers
upon us ; and when some strange shelter receives us,
we lie down to our sleep, inarticulate, and haunted
with dreams of memory, or the memory of dreams,
knowing scarcely more of the past than of the fu-
ture.
" What a strange world ! " sighed Mrs. Sallie ;
and then, as this was a mood far too speculative for
her, she recalled herself to practical life suddenly.
" If we should have to adopt this child, Frank " —
" Why, bless my soul, we're not obliged to adopt
him ! Even a lost child can't demand that."
" We shall adopt him, if they don't come for him.
And now, I want to know " (Mrs. Sallie spoke as if
the adoption had been effected) " whether we shall
give him our name, or some other ? "
"Well, I don't know. It's the first child I've
ever adopted," said Frank ; " and upon my word, J
166 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
can't say whether you have to give him a new name
or not. In fact, if I'd thought of this affair of a
name, I'd never have adopted him. It 's the greatest
part of the burden, and if his father will only come
for him, I'll give him up without a murmur."
In the interval that followed the proposal of this
alarming difficulty, and while he sat and waited
vaguely for whatever should be going to happen
next, Frank was not able to repress a sense of per-
sonal resentment towards the little vagrant sleeping
so carelessly there, though at the bottom of his
heart, there was all imaginable tenderness for him.
In the fantastic character which, to his weariness,
the day's pleasure took on, it seemed an extraordi-
nary unkindness of fate that this lost child should
have been kept in reserve for him after all the rest ;
and he had so small consciousness of bestowing
shelter and charity, and so profound a feeling of
having himself been turned out of house and home
by some surprising and potent agency, that if the
lost child had been a regiment of Fenians billeted
upon him, it could not have oppressed him more.
While he remained perplexed in this perverse senti-
ment of invasion and dispossession, "Hark!" said
Mrs. Sallie, " what's that ? "
It was a noise of dragging and shuffling on the
walk in front of the house, and a low, hoarse whis-
pering.
" I don't know," said Frank, " but from the kind
of pleasure I've got out of it so far, I should say
that this holiday was capable of an earthquake be
fore midnight.''
A day's pleasure. 167
" Listen ! "
They listened, as they must, and heard the outer
darkness rehearse a raucous dialogue between an
unseen Bill and Jim, who were the more terrible
to the imagination from being so realistically named,
and who seemed to have in charge some nameless
third person, a mute actor in the invisible scene.
There was doubt, which he uttered, in the mind of
Jim, whether they could get this silent comrade
along much farther without carrying him ; and there
was a growling assent from Bill that he was pretty
far gone, that was a fact, and that maybe Jim had
better go for the wagon ; then there were quick, re-
treating steps ; and then there was a profound silence,
in which the audience of this strange drama sat
thrilled and speechless. The effect was not less
dreadful when there rose a dull sound, as of a help-
less body rubbing against the fence, and at last
lowered heavily to the ground.
" O ! " cried Mrs. Sallie. " Do go out and help.
He's dying ! "
But even as she spoke the noise of wheels was
heard. A wagon stopped before the door ; there
came a tugging and lifting, with a sound as of
crunching gravel, and then a " There ! " of great
relief.
" Frank ! " said Mrs. Sallie very solemnly, " if
you don't go out and help those men, I'll never for-
give you."
Really, the drama had grown very impressive ; \t
was a mystery, to say the least ; and so it must re
168 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
main fijrever, for when Frank, infected at last by Mrs.
Sallie's faith in tragedy, opened the door and oiferea
his tardy services, the wagon was driven rapidly
away without reply. They never learned what it
had all been ; and I think that if one actually
honors mysteries, it is best not to look into them.
How much finer, after all, if you have such a thing
as this happen before your door at midnight, not to
throw any light upon it ! Then your probable tipsy
man cannot be proved other than a tragical presence,
which you can match with any inscrutable creation
of fiction ; and if you should ever come to write a
romance, as one is very liable to do in this age, there
is your unknown, a figure of strange and fearful
interest, made to your hand, and capable of being
used, in or out of the body, with a very gloomy
effect.
While our friends yet trembled with this sensation,
quick steps ascended to their door, and then fol-
lowed a sharp, anxious tug at the bell.
" Ah ! " cried Frank, prophetically, " here's the
father of our adopted son ; " and he opened the
door.
The gentleman_who appeared there could scarcely
frame the question to which Frank replied so cheer-
fully : " O yes ; he's here, and snug in bed, and fast
asleep. Come up-stairs and look at him. Better let
him be till morning, and then come after him," he
added, as they looked down a moment on the little
sleeper.
" O no, I couldn't," said the father, con expres'
A day's pleasure. 169
sione; and then he told how he had heard of the
child's whereabouts at the Port station, and had
hurried to get him, and how his mother did not
know he was found yet, and was almost wild about
him. They had no idea how he had got lost, and
his own blind story was the only tale of his adven-
ture that ever became known.
By this time his fatlier had got the child partly
awake, and the two men were dressing him in men's
clumsy fashion ; and finally they gave it up, and
rolled him in a shawl. The father lifted the sliglit
burden, and two small arms fell about his neck. The
weary child slept again.
" How has he behaved ? " asked the father.
" Like a little hero," said Frank, " but he's been a
cormorant for cookies. I think it right to tell you,
in case he shouldn't be very brilliant to-morrow,
that he wouldn't eat a bit of anvthing; else."
The father said he was the life of their house ;
and Frank said he knew how that was, — that he had
a life of the house of his own ; and then the father
thanked him very simply and touchingly, and with
the decent New England self-restraint, Avhich is
doubtless so much better than any sort of effusion.
" S^y good-night to the gentleman, 'Freddy," he
said at the door ; and Freddy with closed eyes mur-
mured a good-night from far within the land of
dreams, and then was borne away to the house out
of which the life had wandered with his little feet.
" I don't know, Sallie," said Frank, when he had
given all the eagerly demanded particulars about the
170 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
child's father, — "I don't know whether I should
want many such holidays as this, in the course of the
summer. On the whole, I think I'd better over-
work myself and not take any relaxation, if I mean
to live long. And yet I'm not sure that the day 's
heen altogether a failure, though all our purposes Oi
enjoyment have miscarried. I didn't plan to find a
lost child here, when I got home, and I'm afraid I
haven't had always the most Christian feeling towards
him ; but he's really the saving grace of the affair ;
and if this were a little comedy I had been playing,
I should tui'n him to account with the jaded audi-
ence, and advancing to the foot-lights, should say,
with my hand on my waistcoat, and a neat bow, that
although every hope of the day had been disap-
pointed, and nothing I had meant to do had been
done, yet the man who had ended at midnight by
restoring a lost child to the arms of its father, must
own that, in spite of adverse fortune, he had enjoyed
A Day's Pleasure."
A gaunt figure of forlorn and curious smartness." See page 171.
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE.
It was long past tlie twilight hour, which has
been already mentioned as so oppressive in suburban
places, and it was even too late for visitors, when
a resident, whom I shall briefly describe as a Con-
tributor to the magazines, was startled by a ring at
his door. As any thoughtful person would have done
upon the like occasion, he ran over his acquaintance
in his mind, speculating whether it were such or such
a one, and dismissing the whole list of improbabili-
ties, before he laid down the book he was reading,
and answered the bell. When at last he did this, he
was rewarded by the apparition of an utter stranger
on his threshold, — a gaunt figure of forlorn and
curious smartness towering far above him, that jerked
him a nod of the head, and asked if Mr. Hapford lived
there. The face Avliich the lamp-light revealed was
remarkable for a harsh two days' growth of beard,
and a single bloodshot eye ; yet it was not otherwise
a sinister countenance, and there was something in
the strange presence that appealed and touched.
The contributor, revolving the facts vaguely in his
mind, was not sure, after all, that it was not the
man's clothes rather than his expression that soft-
ened him toward the rugged visage : they were so
tragically cheap, and the misery of helpless needle-
172 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
women, and the poverty and ignorance- of the pur-
chaser, were so apparent in their shabby newness, oi
which they appeared still conscious enough to have
led the way to the very window, in the Semitic
quarter of the city, where they had lain ticketed,
" This nobby suit for |15."
But the stranger's manner put both his face and
his clothes out of mind, and claimed a deeper inter-
est when, being answered that the person for wliom
he asked did not live there, he set his bristling lips
hard together, and sighed heavily.
" They told me," he said, in a hopeless way,
" that he lived on this street, and I've been to every
other house. I'm very anxious to find him, Cap'n,"
— the contributor, of course, had no claim to the
title with which he was thus decorated, — " for I've
a daughter livino- with him, and I want to see her ;
I've just got .home from a two years' voyage, and "
— there was a struggle of the Adam's-apple in the
man's gaunt throat — "I find she's about all there is
left of my family."
How complex is every human motive ! This con-
tributor had been lately thinking, whenever he
turned the pages of some foolish traveller, — some
empty prattler of Southern or Eastern lands, where
all sensation M^as long ago exhausted, and the oxygen
has perished from every sentiment, so has it been
breathed and breathed again, — that nowadays the
wise adventurer sat down beside his own register
and waited for incidents to seek him out. It seemed
to him that the cultivation of a patient and receptive
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 173
Spirit was the sole condition needed to insure the
occurrence of all manner of surprising facts within
the range of one's own personal knowledge ; that
not only the Greeks were at our doors, but the fairies
and the genii, and all the people of romance, who
had but to be hospitably treated in order to develop
the deepest interest of fiction, and to become the
characters of plots so ingenious that the most cun-
ning invention were poor beside them. I myself am
not so confident of this, and would rather trust Mr.
Charles Reade, say, for my amusement than any
chance combination of events. But I should be
afraid to say how much his pride in the character of
the stranger's sorrows, as proof of the correctness of
his theory, prevailed Avith the contributor to ask him
to come in and sit down ; though I hope that some
abstract impulse of humanity, some compassionate
and unselfish care for the man's misfortunes as mis-
fortunes, was not wholly wanting. Indeed, the help-
less simplicity with which he had confided his case
might have touched a harder heart. " Thank you,"
said the poor fellow, after a moment's hesitation.
"I believe I will come in. I've been on foot all
day, and after such a long voyage it makes a man
dreadfully sore to walk about so much. Perhaps
you can think of a Mr. Hapford living somewhere in
the neighborhood."
He sat down, and, after a pondering silence, in
which he had remained with his head fallen upon
his breast, " My name is Jonathan Tinker," he said,
with the unaffected air which had already impressed
174 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
the contributor, and as if he felt that some form of
introduction was necessary, "and the girl that I
want to find is Julia Tinker." Then he added, r"^-
suming the eventful personal history which the
listener exulted, while he regretted, to hear : " Yoi;i
see, I shipped first to Liverpool, and there I heard
from my family ; and then I shipped again for Hong-
Kong, and after that I never heard a word : I seemed
to miss the letters everywhere. This morning, at
four o'clock, I left my ship as soon as she had hauled
into the dock, and hurried up home. The house
was shut, and not a soul in it ; and I didn't know
what to do, and I sat down on the doorstep to wait
till the neighbors woke up, to ask them what had
become of my family. And the first one come out
he told me my wife had been dead a year and a half,*
and the baby I'd never seen, with her ; and one of
my boys was dead ; and he didn't know where the
rest of the children was, but he'd heard two of the
little ones was with a family in the city."
The man mentioned these things with the half-
apologetic air observable in a certain kind of Amer-
icans when some accident obliges them to confess the
infirmity of the natural feelings. They do not ask
your sympathy, and you offer it quite at your own
risk, with a chance of having it thrown back upon
your hands. The contributor assumed the risk so
far as to say, " Pretty rough ! " when the stranger
paused ; and perhaps these homely words were best
suited to reach the homely heart. The man's quiv-
ering lips closed hard again, a kind of spasm passed
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 175
over his dark face, and then two very small drops of
brine shone upon his weather-worn cheeks. This
demonstration, into which he had been surprised,
seemed to stand for the passion of tears into which
the emotional races fall at such times. He opened
his lips with a' kind of dry click, and went on : —
" I hunted about the whole forenoon in the city,
and at last I found the children. I'd been gone so
loner thev didn't know me, and somehow I thouo-ht
the people they were with weren't over-glad I'd.
turned up. Finally the oldest child told me that
Julia was living with a Mr. Hapford on this street,
and I started out here to-night to look her up. If I
can find her, I'm all right. I can get the family to-
gether, then, and start new."
" It seems rather odd," mused the listener aloud,
" that the neighbors let them break up so, and that
they should all scatter as they, did."
" Well, it ain't so curious as it seems, Cap'n.
There was money for them at the owners', all the
time ; I'd left part of my wages when I' sailed ; but
they didn't know how to get at it, and what could
a parcel of children do ? JuHa 's a good girl, and
when I find her I'm all right."
The writer could only repeat that there was no
Mr. Hapford living on that street, and never had
been, so far as he knew. Yet there might be such a
person in the neighborhood ; and they would go out
together, and ask at some of the houses about. But
the stranger must first take a glass of wine ; for he
looked used up.
176 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
Tlie sailor awkwardly but civilly enough protested
that he did not want to give so much trouble, but
took the glass, and, as he put it to his lips, said for-
mally, as if it were a toast or a kind of grace, " I
hope I may have the opportunity of returning the
compliment." The contributor thanked him; though,
as he thought of all the circumstances of the case,
and considered the cost at which the stranger had
come to enjoy his politeness, he felt little eagerness
to secure the return of the comphment at the same
price, and added, with the consequence of another
set phrase, " Not at all." But the thought had made
him the more anxious to befriend the luckless soul
fortune had cast in his way ; and so the two sallied
out together, and rang door-bells wherever lights
were still seen burning in the windows, and asked
the astonished people who answered their summons
whether any Mr. Hapford were known to live in the
neio-hborhood.
And although the search for this gentleman proved
vain, the contributor could not feel that an expedi-
tion which set familiar objects in such novel lights
was altogether a failure. He entered so intimately
into the cares and anxieties of his protSge, that at
times he felt himself in some inexplicable sort a ship-
mate of Jonathan Tinker, and almost personally a
partner of his calamities. The estrangement of all
things which takes place, within doors and without,
about midnight may have helped to cast this doubt
upon his identity ; — he seemed to be visiting now
for the first time the streets and nei^rhborhoods near-
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 177
est his own, and his feet stumbled over the accus-
tomed walks. In his quality of houseless wanderer,
and — so far as appeared to others — possibly
worthless vagabond, he also got a new and instinic-
tive effect upon the faces which, in his real character,
he knew so well by their looks of neighborly greet-
ing; and it is his belief that the first hospitable
prompting of the human heart is to shut the door in
the eyes of homeless strangers who present them-
selves after eleven o'clock. By that time the ser-
vants are all abed, and the gentleman of the house-
answers the bell, and looks out with a loath and be-
wildered face, which gradually changes to one of
suspicion, and of wonder as to what those fellows
can possibly want of him, till at last the prevailing
expression is one of contrite desire to atone for the
first reluctance by any sort of service. The con-
tributor professes to have observed these changing
phases in the visages of those whom he that night
called from their dreams; or arrested in the act of
going to bed ; and he drew the conclusion — very
proper for his imaginable connection with the garrot-
ing and other adventtirous brotherhoods — that the
most flattering moment for knocking; on the head
people who answer a late ring at night is either in
their first selfish bewilderment, or their final self-
abandonment to their better impulses. It does not
seem to have occurred to him that he would himself
have been a much more favorable subject for the
predatory arts that any of his neighbors, if his ship-
mate, the unknown companion of his researches foB'
12
178 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
Mr. Hapford, had been at all so minded. But the
faith of the gaunt giant upon which he reposed was
good, and the contributor continued to wander about
with him in perfect safety. Not a soul among those
they asked had ever heard of a Mr. Hapford, — far
less of a Julia Tinker living with him. But they all
listened to the contributor's explanation with interest
and eventual sympathy ; and in truth, — briefly told,
with a word now and then thrown in by Jonathan
Tinker, who kept at the bottom of the steps, showing
like a gloomy spectre in the night, or, in his gro-
tesque length and gauntness, like the other's shadow
cast there by the lamplight, — it was a story which
could hardly fail to awaken pity.
At last, after ringing several bells where there
were no lights, in the mere wantonness of good-will,
and going away before they could be answered (it
would be entertaining to know what dreams they
caused the sleepers within), there seemed to be
nothing for it but to give up the search till morning,
and go to the main street and wait for the last horse-
car to the city.
There, seated upon the curbstone, Jonathan
Tinker, being plied with a few leading questions,
told in hints and scraps the story of his hard life,
which was at present that of a second mate, and had
been that of a cabin-boy and of a seaman before the
mast. The second mate's place he held to be the
hardest aboard ship. You got only a few dollars
more than the men, and you did not rank with the
officers ; you took your meals alone, and in every-
A ROMANCE OF EEAL LIFE. 179
thing you belonged by yourself. The men did not
respect you, and sometimes the captain abused you
awfully before the passengers. The iiardest captain
that Jonathan Tinker ever sailed with was Captain
Gooding of the Cape. It had got to be so that no
man would ship second mate under Captain Good-
ing ; and Jonathan Tinker was with him only one
voyage. When he had been home awhile, he saw
an advertisement for a second mate, and he went
round to the owners'. They had kept it secret who
the captain was ; but there was Captain Gooding in
the owners' office. " Why, here's the man, now,
.that I want for a second mate," said he, when Jona-
than Tinker entered ; " he knows me." — " Captain
Gooding, I know you 'most too well to want to sail
under you," answered Jonathan. " I might go if I
hadn't been with you one voyage too many already."
" And then the men ! " said Jonathan, " the men
coming aboard drunk, and having to be pounded
sober ! And the hardest of the fight falls on the
second mate ! Why, there isn't an inch of me
that hasn't been cut over or smashed into a jell.
I've had three ribs broken ; I've got a scar from a
knife on my cheek ; and I've been stabbed bad
enough, half a dozen times, to lay me up."
Here he gave a sort of desperate laugh, as if the
notion of so much misery and such various mutila-
tion were too grotesque not to be amusing. " Well,
what can you do ? " he went on. " If you don't
strike, the men think you're afraid of them ; and so
you have to begin hard and go on hard. I always
180 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
tell a man, ' Now, my man, I always begin with a
man the way I mean to keep on. You do your duty
and you're all right. But if you don't ' — Well,
the men ain't Americans any more, — Dutch, Sj)an-
iards, Chinese, Portuguee, — and it ain't like abusing
a wliite man."
Jonathan Tinker was plainly part of the liorrible
tyranny which Ave all know exists on shipboard ; and
his listener respected him the more that, though he
had heart enough to be ashamed of it, he was too
honest not to own it.
Why did he still follow the sea? Because he did
not know what else to do. When he was younger,
he used to love it, but now he hated it. Yet there
was not a prettier life in the world if you got to be
captain. He used to hope for that once, but not
now ; though he thought he could navigate a ship.
Only let him get his family together again, and he
would — yes, he would — try to do something ashore.
No car had yet come in sight, and so the con-
tributor suggested that they should walk to the car-
office, and look in the " Directory," which is kept
there, for the name of Hapford, in search of whom it
had already been arranged that they should renew
their acquaintance on the morrow. Jonathan Tinker,
when they had reached the office, heard with con-
stitutional phlegm that the name of the Hapford,
for whom he inquired was not in the " Directory."
" Never mind," said the other ; " come round to my
house in the morning. We'll find him yet." So they
parted with a shake of the hand, the second mate say<
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 181
ing that he believed he should go down to the vessel
and sleep aboard, — if he could sleep, — and murmur-
ing at the last moment the hope of returning the
compliment, while the other walked homeward, weary
as to the flesh, but, in spite of his sympathy for Jona-
than Tinker, very elate in spirit. The truth is, —
and however disgraceful to human nature, let the
truth still be told, — he had recurred to his primal
satisfaction in the man as calamity capable of being
used for such and such literary ends, and, while he
pitied him, rejoiced in him as an episode of real life
quite as striking and complete as anything in fiction.
It was literature made to his hand. Nothing; could
be better, he mused ; and once more he passed the
details of the story in review, and beheld all those
pictures which the poor fellow's artless words had so
vividly conjured up : he saw him leaping ashore in
the gray summer dawn as soon as the ship hauled
into the dock, and making his way, with his vague
sea-legs unaccustomed to the pavements, up through
the silent and empty city streets ; he imagined the
tumult of fear and hope which the sight of the man's
home must have caused in him, and the benumbing
shock of finding it blind and deaf to all his appeals ;
he saw him sitting down upon what had been his
own threshold, and waiting in a sort of bewildered
patience till the neighbors should be awake, while
the noises of the streets gradually arose, and the
wheels began to rattle over the stones, and the milk-
man and the ice-man came and went, and the wait-
ing; fig;ure began to be stared at, and to challeng;e the
182 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
curiosity of the passing policeman ; he fancied the
opening of the neighbor's door, and the slow, cold
understanding of the case ; the manner, whatever it
was, in which the sailor was told that one year be-
fore his wife had died, with her babe, and that his
children were scattered, none knew where. As the
contributor dwelt pityingly upon these things, but at
the same time estimated their sesthetic value one by
one, he drew near the head of his street, and found
himself a few paces behind a boy slouching onward
through the night, to whom he called out, adventur-
ously, and with no real hope of information, —
" Do you happen to know anybody on this street
by the name of Hapford?"
" Why no, not in this town," said the boy ; but
he added that there was a street of the same name
in a neighboring suburb, and that there was a Hap-
ford living on it.
" By Jove ! " thought the contributor, " this is
more like literature than ever ; " and he hardly
knew whether to be more provoked at his own stu-
pidity in not thinking of a street of the same name in
the next village, or delighted at the element of fatal-
ity which the fact introduced into the story ; for
Tinker, according to his own account, must have
landed from the cars a few rods from the very door
he was seeking, and so walked farther and farther
from it every moment. He thought the case so
curious, that he laid it briefly before the boy, who,
however he might have been inwardly affected, was
sufficiently true to the national traditions not t(
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 183
make the smallest conceivable outward sign of con-
cern in it.
At home, however, the contributor related his
adventures and the story of Tinker's life, adding the
fact that he had just found out where Mr. Hapford
lived. " It was the only touch wanting," said he ;
" the whole thing is now perfect."
" It's too perfect," was answered from a sad enthu-
siasm. " Don't speak of it ! I can't take it in."
" But the question is," said the contributor, peni-
tently taking himself to task for forgetting the hero
of these excellent misfortunes in his delight at their
perfection, " how am I to sleep to-night, thinking of
that poor soul's suspense and uncertainty ? Never
mind, — I'll be up early, and run over and make
sure that it is Tinker's Hapford, before he gets out
here, and have a pleasant surprise for him. Would
it not be a justifiable coup de thedtre to fetch his
daughter here, and let her answer his ring at the
door when he comes in the morning ? "
This plan was discouraged. " No, no ; let them
meet in their own way. Just take him to Hapford's
house and leave him."
" Very well. But he's too good a character to
lose sight of. He's got to come back here and tell
us what he intends to do."
The birds, next morning, not having had the sec-
ond mate on their minds either as an unhappy man
or a most fortunate episode, but having slept long
and soundly, were singing in a very sprightly way
in the way-side trees ; and the sweetness of theii
184 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
notes made the contributor's heart h'o-ht as he
dimbed the hill and rang at Mr. Hapford's door.
The door was opened by a young girl of fifteen or
sixteen, whom he knew at a glance for the second
mate's daughter, but of whom, for form's sake, he
asked if there were a girl named Julia Tinker living
there.
" My name's Julia Tinker," answered the maid,
who had rather a disappointing face.
" Well," said the contributoi', " your father's got
back from his Hong-Kong voyage."
" Hong-Kong voyage ? " echoed the girl, with a
stare of helpless inquiry, but no other visible emo-
tion.
" Yes. He had never heard of your mother's
death. He came home yesterday morning, and was
looking for you all day."
Julia Tinker remained open-mouthed but mute ;
and the other was puzzled at the Avant of feeling
shown, which he could not account for even as a na-
tional trait. " Perhaps there's some mistake," he
said.
'" There must be," answered Julia : " my father
hasn't been to sea for a good many years. My
father," she added, with a diffidence indescribably
mingled with a sense of distinction, — " my father's
in State's Prison. What kind of looking man was
this ? "
The contributor mechanically described him.
Julia Tinker broke into a loud, hoarse laugh.
'" Yes, it 's him, sure enough." And then, as if the
A ROMANCE OF EEAL LIFE. 185
joke were too good to keep : "Miss Hapford, Miss
Hapford, father's got out. Do come here ! " she
called into a back room.
When Mrs. Hapford appeared, Julia fell hack,
and, having deftly caught a fly on the door-post,
occupied herself in plucking it to pieces, while she
listened to the conversation of the others.
" It 's all true enough," said Mrs. Hapford, when
the writer had recounted the moving story of Jona-
than Tinker, " so far as the death of his wife and
baby goes. But he hasn't been to sea for a good
many years, and he must have just come out of
State's Prison, where he was put for bigamy.
There's always two sides to a story, jon know ; but
they say it broke his first wife's heart, and she died.
His friends don't want him to find his children, and
this girl especially."
*' He's found his children in the city," said the
contributor, gloomily, being at a loss what to do or
say, in view of the wi'eck of his romance.
" O, he's found 'em has lie ? " cried Julia, with
heightened amusement. " Then he'll have me next,
if I don't pack and go."
" I'm very, very sorry," said the contributor, se-
cretly resolved never to do another good deed, nc
matter how temptingly the opportunity presented
itself. " But you may depend he won't find out
from me where you are. Of course I had no earthly
reason for supposing his story was not true."
" Of course," said kind-hearted Mrs. Hapford,.
mingling a drop of lioney with the gall in the con^
tributor's soul, " you only did your duty."
186 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
And indeed, as he turned away he did not fee
altogether without compensation. However Jona-
than Tinker had fallen in his esteem as a man, he
had even risen as literature. The episode which
had appeared so perfect in its pathetic phases did not
seem less finished as a farce ; and this person, to
whom all things of every-daj life presented them-
selves in periods more or less rounded, and capable
of use as facts or illustrations, could not but rejoice
in these new incidents, as dramatically fashioned as
the rest. It occurred to him that, wrought into a
story, even better use might be made of the facts
now than before, for they had developed questions
of character and of human nature which could not
fail to interest. The more he pondered upon his
acquaintance with Jonathan Tinker, the more fasci-
nating the erring mariner became, in his complex
truth and falsehood, his delicately blending shades of
artifice and naivete. He must, it was felt, have be-
lieved to a certain point in his own inventions : nay,
starting with that groundwork of truth, — the fact
that his wife was really dead, and that he had not
seen his family for two years, — why should he not
place implicit faith in all the fictions reared upon it ?
It was probable that he felt a real sorrow for her
loss, and that he found a fantastic consolation in de-
picting the circumstances of her death so that they
should look like his inevitable misfortunes rather
than his faults. He might well have repented his
offense during those two years of prison ; and why
should he not now cast their dreariness and shame
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 187
out of his memory, and replace them with the free-
dom and adventure of a two years' voyage to China,
— so probable, in all respects, that the fact should
appear an impossible nightmare ? In the experi-
ences of his life he had abundant material to furnish
forth the facts of such a voyage, and in the weari-
ness and lassitude that should follow a day's walking
equally after a two years' voyage and two years'
imprisonment, he had as much physical proof in
favor of one hypothesis as the other. It was doubt-
less true, also, as he said, that he had gone to his
house at dawn, and sat down on the threshold of his
ruined home ; and perhaps he felt the desire he had
expressed to see his daughter, with a purpose of be-
ginning life anew ; and it may have cost him a veri-
table pang when he found that his little ones did not
know him. All the sentiments of the situation were
such as might persuade a lively fancy of the truth
of its own inventions ; and as he heard these contin-
ually repeated by the contributor in their search for
Mr. Hapford, they must have acquired an objective
force and repute scarcely to be resisted. At the
same time, there were touches of nature throughout
Jonathan Tinker's narrative which could not fail to
take the faith of another. The contributor, in re-
viewing it, thought it particularly charming that his
mariner had not overdrawn himself, or attempted to
paint his character otherwise than as it probably was ;
that he had shown his ideas and practices of life to
be those of a second mate, nor more nor less, with-
out the gloss of regret or the pretenses to refine-
188 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
ment that might be pleasing to the supposed philan-
thropist with whom he had fallen in. Captain
Gooding was of course a true portrait; and there
was nothing in Jonathan Tinker's statement of the
relations of a second mate to his superiors and his
inferiors which did not agree perfectly with what the
contributor had just read in "Two Years before the
Mast," — a book which had possibly cast its glamour
upon the adventure. He admired also the just and
perfectly characteristic air of grief in the bereaved
husband and father, — those occasional escapes from
the sense of loss into a brief hilarity and forgetful-
ness, and those relapses into the hovering gloom,
which every one has observed in this poor, crazy
human nature when oppressed by sorrow, and which
it would have been hard to simulate. But, above
all, he exulted in that supreme stroke of the imagi-
nation given by the second mate when, at parting,
he said he believed he would go down and sleep on
board the vessel. In view of this, the State's
Prison theory almost appeared a malign and foolish
scandal.
Yet even if this theory were correct, was the
second mate wholly answerable for beginning his
life again with the imposture he had practiced ?
The contributor had either so fallen in love with the
literary advantages of his forlorn deceiver that he
would see no moral obliquity in him, or he had
touched a subtler verity at last in pondering the
affair. It seemed now no longer a farce, but had a
pathos which, though very different from that of its
A ROMANCE OF REAL LIFE. 189
first aspect, was hardly less tragical. Knowing with
what coldness, or, at the best, uncandor, he (repre-
senting Society in its attitude toward convicted Er*
ror) would have met the fact had it been owned to
him at first, he had not virtue enough to condemn
the illusory stranger, who must have been helpless to
make at once evident any repentance he felt or good
purpose he cherished. Was it not one of the saddest
consequences of the man's past, — a dark necessity
of misdoing, — that, even with the best will in the
world to retrieve himself, his first endeavor must
hivolve a wrong? Might he not, indeed, be con-
sidered a martyr, in some sort, to his own admirable
impulses ? I can see clearly enough where the con-
tributor was astray in this reasoning, but I can also
understand how one accustomed to value realities
only as they resembled fables should be won with
such pensive sophistry ; and I can certainly sympa-
thize with his feeling that the mariner's failure to
reappear according to appointment added its final
and most agreeable charm to the whole affair, and
completed the mystery from which the man emerged
and which swallowed him up again.
SCENE.
On that loveliest autumn morning, the swollen
tide had spread over all the russet levels, and
gleamed in the sunlight a mile away. As the con-
tributor moved onward down the street, luminous
on either hand with crimsoning and yellowing ma-
ples, he was so filled with the tender serenity of
the scene, as not to be troubled by the spectacle of
small Irish houses standing miserably about on the
flats ankle deep, as it were, in little pools of the tide,
or to be aware at first, of a strange stir of people
upon tlie streets : a fluttering to and fro and lively
encounter and separation of groups of bareheaded
women, a flying of children through the broken
fences of the neighborhood, and across the vacant
lots on which the insulted sign-boards forbade them
to trespass ; a sluggish movement of men through
all, and a pause of different vehicles along the side-
walks. When a sense of these facts had penetrated
his enjoyment, he asked a matron whose snowy arms,
freshly taken from the wash-tub, were folded across
a mighty chest, " What is the matter ? "
" A girl drowned herself, sir-r-r, over there on the
flats, last Saturday, and they're looking for her."
" It was the best thing she could do," said another
matron grimly.
SCENE. 191
Upon this answer that literary, soul fell at once to
patching himself up a romantic story for the suicide,
after the pitiful fashion of this fiction-ridden age,
when we must relate everything we see to sonlething
we have read. He was the less to blame for it, be-
cause he could not help it ; but certainly he is not to
be praised for his associations with the tragic fact
brought to his notice. Nothino; could have been
more trite or obvious, and he felt his intellectual
poverty so keenly that he might almost have believed
his discomfort a sympathy for the girl who had
drowned herself last Saturday. But of course, this
could not be, for he had but lately been thinking
what a very tiresome figure to the imagination the
Fallen Woman had become. As a fact of Chris-
tian civilization, she was a spectacle to wring one's
heart, he owned ; but he wished she were well out
of the romances, and it really seemed a fatality
that she should be the principal personage of this
little scene. The preparation for it, whatever it
was to be, was so deliberate, and the reality had so
slight relation to the French roofs and modern im-
provements of the comfortable Charlesbridge which
he knew, that he could not consider himself other
than as a spectator awaiting some entertainment,
with a faint inclination to be critical.
In the mean time there passed through the mot-
ley crowd, not so much a cry as a sensation of
" They've found her, they've found her ! " and then
the one teri'ible picturesque fact, " She was stand-
ing upright ! "
192 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
Upon this there was wilder and wilder elamoi
among the people, dropping by degrees and almost
dying away, before a flight of boys came down the
street with the tidings, " They are bringing her —
bringing her in a wagon."
The contributor knew that she whom they were
bringing in the wagon, had had the poetry of love
to her dismal and otherwise squalid death ; but the
history was of fancy, not of fact in his mind. Of
course, he reflected, her lot must have been obscure
and hard ; the aspect of those concerned about her
death implied that. But of her hopes and her fears,
who could tell him anything ? To be sure he could
imagine the lovers, and how they first met, and
where, and who he was that was doomed to work
her shame and death ; but here his fancy came upon
something coarse and common : a man of her own
race and grade, handsome after that manner of
beauty which is so much more hateful than ugliness
is ; or, worse still, another kind of man whose deceit
must have been subtler and wickeder ; but whatever
the person, a presence defiant of sympathy or even
interest, and simply horrible. Then there were the
details of- the affair, in great degree common to all
love affairs, and not varying so widely in any con-
dition of life ; for the passion which is so rich and
infinite to those within its charm, is apt to seem a
little tedious and monotonous in its character, and
poor in resources to the cold looker-on.
Then, finally, there was the crazy purpose and its
fulfillment : the headlong plunge from bank or
SCENE. 103
bridge ; the eddy, and the bubbles on the current
that calmed itself above the suicide ; the tide that
rose and stretched itself abroad in the sunshine,
carrying hither and thither the burden with which it
knew not what to do ; the arrest, as by some ghastly
caprice of fate, of the dead girl, in that upright pos-
ture, in which she should meet the quest for her, as
it were defiantly.
And now they were bringing her in a wagon.
Involuntarily all stood aside, and waited till the
funeral car, which they saAv, should come up toward
them through the long vista of the maple-shaded
street, a noiseless riot stirrincr the legs and arms of
the boys into frantic demonstration, while the women
remained quiet Avith arms folded or akimbo. Before
and behind the wagon, driven slowly, went a guard
of rao:o;ed urchins, while on the raised seat above sat
two Americans, unperturl)ed by anything, and con-
cerned merely with the business of the affair.
The vehicle was a grocer's cart which had per-
haps been pressed into the service ; and inevitably
the contributor thought of 2enobia, and of Miles
Coverdale's belief that if she could have foreboded
all the post-mortem ugliness and grotesqueness of
suicide, she never would have drowned herself.
This girl, too, had doubtless had her own ideas of
the effect that her death was to make, her convic-
tion that it was to wring one heart, at least, and to
strike awe and pity to every other ; and her woman's
soul must have been shocked from death could she
13
194 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
have known in wliat a ghastly comedy the body she
put off Avas to play a part.
In the bottom of the cart lay something long and
straight and terrible, covered with a red shawl that
drooped over the end of the wagon ; and on this
thing were piled the baskets in which the grocers had
delivered their orders for sugar and flour, and coffee
and tea. As the cart jolted through their lines, the
boys could no longer be restrained ; they broke out
with wild yells, and danced madly about it, while
the red shawl hangino; from the rigid feet nodded to
their frantic mirth ; and the sun dropped its light
through the maples and shone bright upon the flooded
flats.
JUBILEE DAYS.
I BELTEYE I liave no crood reason for iiicliulinc;;
amono; tliese suburban sketches my recollections of
the Peace Jubilee, celebrated by a monster musical
entertainment at Boston, in June, 1869 ; and I
do not know if it will serve as excuse for their
intrusion to say that the exhibition was not urban
in character, and that I attended it in a feeling of
curiosity and amusement which the Bostonians did
not seem to feel, and which I suspect was a strictly
suburban if not rural sentiment.
I thought, on that Tuesday morning, as our horse-
car drew near the Lono- Brido;e, and we saw the Col-
iseum spectral through the rain, that Boston was
going to show people representing other parts of the
country her Notion of weather. I looked forward
to a forenoon of clammy warmth, and an afternoon
of clammy cold and of east wind, with a misty night-
fall soaking men to the bones. But the day really
turned out well enough ; it was showery, but not
shrewish, and it smiled pleasantly at sunset, as if
content with the opening ceremonies of the Great
Peace Jubilee.
The city, as we entered it, gave due token of ex-
citement, and we felt the celebration even in the
196 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
air, which had a hoHday quality very different from
that of ordinary workday air. The crowds filled the
decorous streets, and the trim pathways of the Com-
mon and the Public Garden, and flowed in an orderly
course towards the vast edifice on the Back Bay, pre-
senting the interesting points which always distinguish
a crowd come to town from a city crowd. You get so
used to the Boston face and the Boston dress, that a
coat from New York or a visage from Chicago is at
once conspicuous to you ; and in these people there
was not only this sti'angenecs, but the diflfei'ent oddi-
ties that lurk in out-of-way corners of society every-
where had started suddenly into notice. Long-haired
men, popularly supposed to have perished with the
institution of slavery, appeared before me, and men
with various causes and manias looking from their
wild eyes confronted each other, let alone such
charlatans as had clothed themselves quaintly or
grotesquely to add a charm to the virtue of what-
ever nostrum they peddled. It was, however, for
the most part, a remarkably well-dressed crowd ;
and therein it probably differed more than in any
other respect from the crowd which a holiday would
have assembled in former times. There was little
rusticity to be noted anywhere, and the uncouthness
which has already disappeared from the national face
seemed to be passing from the national wardrobe.
Nearly all the visitors seemed to be Americans, but
neither the Yankee type nor the Hoosier was to be
found. They were apparently very happy, too ; the
ancestral solemnity of the race that amuses itself
JUBILEE DAYS. 197
sadly was not to be seen in them, and, if they were
not making it a duty to be gay, they were really
taking their pleasure in a cheerful spirit.
There was, in fact, something in the sight of the
Coliseum, as we approached it, which was a sufficient
cause of elation to whoever is buoyed up by the
flutter of brio-ht flao;s, and the movement in and
about holiday booths, as I think we all are apt to be.
One may not have the stomach of happier days for
the swing or the whirligig ; he may not drink soda-
water intemperately ; pop-corn may not tempt him,
nor tropical fruits allure ; but he beholds them with-
out gloom, — nay, a grin inevitably lights up his
countenance at the sio;ht of a great show of these
amusements and refreshments. And any Bostonian
might have felt proud that morning that his city did
not hide the light of her mercantile merit under a
bushel, but blazoned it about on the booths and walls
in every variety of printed and painted advertise-
ment. To the mere aesthetic observer, these vast
placards gave the delight of brilliant color, and
blended prettily enough in effect with the flags ; and
at flrst glance I received quite as much pleasure
from the frescoes that advised me where to buy my
summer clothing, as from any bunting I saw.
I had the good fortune on the morning of this first
Jubilee day to vicAv the interior of the Coliseum
when there was scarcely anybody there, — a trifle
of ten thousand singers at one end, and a few thou-
sand other people scattered about over the wide
expanses of parquet and galleries. The decorations
198 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
within, as without, were a pleasure to the eyes that
love gayety of color ; and the interior was certainly
magnificent, with those long lines of white and blue
drapery roofing the balconies, the slim, lofty columns
festooned with flags and drooping banners, the arms
of the States decking the fronts of the galleries, and
the arabesques of painted muslin everywhere. I do
not know that my taste concerned itself with the
decorations, or that I have any taste in such things ;
but I testify that these tints and draperies gave no
small part of the comfort of being where all things
conspired for one's pleasure. The airy amplitude
of the building, the perfect order and the perfect
freedom of movement, the ease of access and exit,
the completeness of the arrangements that in the
afternoon gave all of us thirty thousand spectators a
chance to behold the great spectacle as well as to
hear the music, were felt, I am sure, as personal
favors by every one. These minor particulars, in
fact, served greatly to assist you in identifying your-
self, when the vast hive swarmed with humanity,
and you became a mere sentient atom of the mass.
It was rumored in the mornino; that the cere-
monies were to begin with prayer by a hundred
ministers, but I missed this striking feature of the
exhibition, for I did not arrive in the afternoon till
the last speech Avas being made by a gentleman
whom I saw gesticulating effectively, and whom I
suppose to have been intelligible to a matter of
twenty thousand people in his vicinity, but who was
to me, of the remote, outlying thirty thousand, a
The spectacle as we beheltl it." See page 199.
JUBILEE DAYS. 199
voice merely. One word only I caught, and I
report it here that posterity may know as much as
we thirty thousand contemporaries did of
THE president's SPEECH.
(jsen»ationS) ....,,,
. (^cheers.^ . . . refinement ....
(^great applause.^
I do not know if I shall he ahle to give an idea of
the immensity of this scene ; but if such a reader as
has the dimensions of the Coliseum accurately fixed
in his mind will, in imagination, densely hide all that
interminable array of benching in the parquet and
the galleries and the slopes at either end of the edi-
fice with human heads, showing here crowns, there
occiputs, and yonder faces, he will perhaps have
some notion of the spectacle as we beheld it from
the northern hill-side. Some thousands of heads
nearest were recognizable as attached by the usual
neck to the customary human body, but for the rest,
we seemed to have entered a world of cherubim.
Especially did the multitudinous singers seated far
opposite encourage this illusion ; and their fluttering
fans and handkerchiefs wonderfully mocked the
movement of those cravat-like pinions which the
fancy attributed to them. They rose or sank at the
wave of the director's baton ; and still looked like
an innumerable flock of cherubs drifting over some
slope of Paradise, or settling upon it, — if cherubs
can settle.
200 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
The immensity was quite as striking to the mind
as to the eye, and an absolute democracy was appre-
ciable in it. Not only did all artificial distinctions
cease, but those of nature were practically obliter-
ated, and you felt for once the full meaning of unan-
imity. No one was at a disadvantage ; one was as
wise, as good, as handsome as another. In most
public assemblages, the foolish eye roves in search
of the vanity of female beauty, and rests upon some
lovely visage, or pretty figure ; but here it seemed to
matter nothing whether ladies were well or ill-look-
ing ; and one might have been perfectly ascetic
without self-denial. A blue eye or a black, — what
of it ? A mass of blonde or chestnut hair, this sort
of walking-dress or that, — you might note the
difference casually in a few hundred around you;
but a sense of those myriads of other eyes and
chignons and walking-dresses absorbed the impres-
sion in an instant, and left a dim, strange sense of
loss, as if all women had suddenly become Woman.
For the time, one would have been preposterously
conceited to have felt his littleness in that crowd ;
you never thought of yourself in an individual
capacity at all. It was as if you were a private in an
ai'my, or a very ordinary billow of the sea, feeling
the battle or the storm, in a collective sort of way,
but unable to distinguish your sensations from those
of the mass. If a rafter had fallen and crushed you
ind your unimportant row of people, you could
scarcely have regarded it as a personal calamity, but
might have found it disagreeable as a shock to that
JUBILEE DAYS. 201
great body of humanity. Recall, then, how aston-
ished you were to be recognized by some one, and
to have your hand shaken in your individual charac-
ter of Smith. " Smith ? My dear What's-your-
name, I am for the present the fifty-thousandth part
of an enormous emotion! "
It was as difficult to distribute the various facts of
the whole effect, as to identify one's self. I had only
a public and general consciousness of the delight
given by the harmony of hues in the parquet below ;
and concernino; the orchestra I had at first no dis-
tinct impression save of the three hundred and thirty
violin-bows held erect like standing wheat at one
motion of the director's wand, and then fallino; as if
with the next he swept them down. Afterwards
files of men with horns, and other files of men with
drums and cymbals, discovered themselves ; while far
above all, certain laborious figures pumped or ground
with incessant obeisance at the apparatus supplying
the oro;an with wind.
What helped, more than anything else, to restore
you your dispersed and wandering individuality was
the singing of Parepa-Rosa, as she triumphed over
the harmonious rivalry of the orchestra. There was
something in the generous amplitude and robust
cheerfulness of this great artist that accorded well with
the ideal of the occasion ; she was in herself a great
musical festival ; and one felt, as she floated down
the stage with her far- spreading white draperies, and
swept the audience a colossal courtesy, that here was
the embodied genius of the Jubilee. I do not trust
202 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
myself to speak particularly of her singing, for I
have the natural modesty of people who know noth-
ing about music, and I have not at command the
phraseology of those who pretend to understand it ;
but I say that lier voice filled the whole edifice with
delicious melody, that it soothed and composed and
utterly enchanted, that, though two hundred violins
accompanied her, the greater sweetness of her note
prevailed over all, like a miglity will commanding
many. What a sublime ovation for her Avhen a
hundred thousand hands thundered their acclaim !
A victorious general, an accepted lover, a successful
young author, — these know a measure of bliss, I
dare say ; but in one throb, the singer's heart, as it
leaps in exultation at the loud delight of her applau-
sive thousands, must out-enjoy them all. Let me
lay these poor little artificial flowers of rhetoric at
the feet of the divine singer, as a faint token of grat-
itude and eloquent intention.
When Parepa (or Prepper, as I have heard her
name popularly pronounced) had sung, the revived
consciousness of an individual life rose in rebellion
against the oppression of that dominant vastness. In
fact, human nature can stand only so much of any
one thing. To a certain degree you accept and
conceive of facts truthfully, but beyond this a mere
fantasticality rules ; and having got enough of grand-
eur, the senses played themselves false. That array
of fluttering and tuning people on the southern slope
began to look minute, like the myriad heads assem-
bled in the infinitesimal photograph which you view
JUBILEE DAYS. 203
through one of those Httle half-inch 'lorgnettes ; and
you had the satisfaction of knowing that to any lovely
infinitesimality yonder you showed no bigger than a
carpet-tack. The whole performance now seemed
to be worked by those tireless figures pumping at
the organ, in obedience to signals from a very alert
figure on the platform below. The choral and
orchestral thousands sang and piped and played ;
and at a given point in the scena from Verdi, a hun-
dred fairies in red shirts marched down throuirh the
sombre mass of puppets and beat upon as many
invisible anvils.
This was the stroke of anti-climax ; and the drolli
sound of those anvils, so far above all the voices and
instruments in its pitch, thoroughly disillusioned you
and restored you finally to your proper entity and
proportions. It was the great error of the great
Jubilee, and where almost everything else was noble
and impressive, — where the direction was faultless,
and the singing and instrumentation as perfectly con-
trolled as if they were the result of one volition, —
this anvil-beating was alone ignoble and discordant,
— trivial and huge merely. Not even the artillery
accompaniment, in which the cannon were made to
pronounce words of two syllables, was so bad.
The dimensions of this sketch bear so little pro-
portion to those of the Jubilee, that I must perforce
leave most of its features unnoticed ; but I wish to
express the sense of enjoyment which prevailed
(whenever the anvils were not beaten) over every
other feeling, even over wonder. To the ear as to.
204 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
the eye it was a delight, and it was an assured suc-
cess in the popular affections from the performance
of the first piece. For my own part, if one pleasur-
able sensation, besides that received from Parepa's
sino-inof, distino-uished itself from the rest, it was that
given by the performance of the exquisite Coronation
March from Meyerbeer's " Prophet ; " but I say this
under protest of the pleasure taken in the choral
rendering of the " Star-Spangled Banner." Closely
allying themselves to these great raptures were the
minor joys of wandering freely about from point to
point, of receiving fresh sensations from the varying
lights and aspects in which the novel scene presented
itself with its strange fascinations, and of noting,
half consciously, the incessant movement of the
crowd as it revealed itself in changing effects of
color. Then the gay tumult of the fifteen minutes
of intermission between the parts, when all rose with
a susurrus of innumerable silks, and the thousands
of pretty singers fluttered about, and gossiped trem-
ulously and delightedly over the glory of the per-
formance, revealing themselves as charming feminine
personalities, each with her share in the difficulty
and the achievement, each with her pique or pride,
and each her something to tell her friend of the con-
duct, agreeable or displeasing, of some particular
him ! Even the quick dispersion of the mass at the
close Avas a marvel of orderliness and grace, as the
melting and separating parts, falling asunder, radi-
ated from the centi-e, and flowed and rippled rapidly
away, and left the great hall empty and bare at
last.
JUBILEE DAYS. 205
And as you emerged from the building, what
bizarre and perverse feeh'ng was that you knew ?
Something as if all-out-doors were cramped and
small, and it were better to return to the freedom
and amplitude of the interior ?
On the second day, much that was wonderful in a
first experience of the festival was gone ; but though
the novelty had passed away, the cause for wonder
was even greater. If on the first day the crowd
was immense, it was now something which the im-
perfect state of the language will not permit me to
describe ; perhaps awful will serve the purpose as
well as any other word now in use. As you looked
round, from the centre of the building, on that rest-
less, fanning, fluttering multitude, to right and left
and north and south, all comparisons and similitudes
abandoned you. If you were to write of the scene,
you felt that your effort, at the best, must be a meagre
.sketch, suggesting something to those who had seen
the fact, but conveying no intelligible impression of
it to any one else. The galleries swarmed, the vast
slopes were packed, in the pampa-like parquet even
the aisles were half filled with chairs, while a cloud
of placeless wandei-ers moved ceaselessly on the bor-
ders of the mass under the balconies.
When that common-looking, uncommon little man
whom we have called to rule over us entered the
house, and walked quietly down to his seat in the
centre of it, a wild, inarticulate clamor, like no other
noise in the world, swelled from every side, till'
General Grant rose and showed himself, when it
206 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
grew louder than ever, and then gradully subsided
into silence. Then a voice, which might be uttering
some mortal alarm, broke repeatedly across the still-
ness from one of the balconies, and a thousand glasses
were leveled in that direction, while everywhere else
the mass hushed itself with a mute sense of peril.
The capacity of such an assemblage for self-destruc-
tion was, in fact, but too evident. From fire, in an
edifice of which the sides could be knocked out in a
moment, there could have been little danger ; the
fabric's strength had been perfectly tested the day
before, and its fall was not to be apprehended ; but
we had ourselves greatly to dread. A panic could
have been caused by any mad or wanton person, in
which thousands might have been instantly trampled
to death ; and it seemed long till that foolish voice
was stilled, and the house lapsed back into tranquillity,
and the enjoyment of the music. In the performance
I recall nothing disagreeable, nothing that to my igno-
rance seemed imperfect, though I leave it to the wise
in music to say how far the great concert was a suc-
cess. I saw a flourish of the director's wand, and I
heard the voices or the instruments, or both, respond,
and I knew by my programme that I was enjoying an
unprecedented quantity of Haydn or Handel or Mey-
erbeer or Rossini or Mozart, afforded with an unques-
tionable precision and promptness ; but I own that I
liked better to stroll about the three-acre house, and
that for me the music was, at best, only one of the
joys of the festival.
There was good heai'ing outside for those that
JUBILEE DAYS. 207
riesired to listen to the music, Avith seats to let in
the surrounding tents and booths ; and there was
unlimited seeing for the mere looker-on. At least
fifty thousand people seemed to have come to the
Jubilee with no other purpose than to gaze upon the
outside of the building. The crowd was incompara-
bly greater than that of the day before ; all the main
thoroughfares of the city roared with a tide of feet
that swept through the side streets, and swelled aim-
lessly up the places, and eddied there, and poured
out again over the pavements. The carriage-ways
were packed with every sort of vehicle, with foot-
passengers crowded from the sidewalks, and with the
fragments of the military parade in honor of the
President, with infantry, with straggling cavalry-
men, with, artillery. All the paths of the Common
and the Garden were filled, and near the Coliseum
the throngs densified on every side into an almost
impenetrable mass, that made the doors of the build-
ing difficult to approach and at times inaccessible.
The crowd differed from that of the first day
chiefly in size. There were more country faces and
country garbs to be seen, though it was still, on the
whole, a regular-featured and well-dressed crowd,
with still very few but American visages. It seemed
to be also a very frugal-minded crowd, and to spend
little upon the refreshments and amusements pro-
vided for it. In these, oddly enough, there was
notliing of the march of mind to be observed ; they
were the refreshments and amusements of a former
generation. I think it would not be extravagant to
208 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
say that there were tons of pie for sale in a multitude
of booths, with lemonade, soda-water, and ice-cream
in proportion ; but I doubt if there was a ton of pie
sold, and towards the last the venerable pastry was
quite covered with dust. Neither did people seem
to care much for oranges or bananas or peanuts, or
even pop-corn, — five cents a package and a prize in
each package. Many booths stood unlet, and in
others the pulverous ladies and gentlemen, their
proprietors, were in the enjoyment of a leisure which
would have been eleo-ant if it had not been forced.
There was one shanty, not other\Yise distinguished
from the rest, in which French soups were declared
to be for sale ; but these alien pottages seemed to be
no more favored than the most poisonous of our
national viands. But perhaps they were not French
soups, or perhaps the vicinage of the shanty was not
such as to impress a belief in their genuineness upon
people who like French soups. Let us not be too
easily disheartened by the popular neglect of them.
If the daring reformer who inscribed French soups
upon his sign will reappear ten years hence, we shall
all flock to his standard. Slavery is abolished ; pie
must follow. Doubtless in the year 1900, the man-
agers of a Jubilee would even let the refreshment-
rooms within their Coliseum to a cook who would
offer the public something not so much worse than
the worst that could be found in the vilest shanty
restaurant on the ground. At the Jubilee, of which
I am writing, the unhappy person who went into the
Coliseum rooms to refresh himself was offered for
JUBILEE DAYS. 209
coffee a salty and unctuous wash, in one of those
thick cups which are supposed to be proof against
the hard usage of " guests " and sculhons in humble
eating-houses, and which are always so indescribably
nicked and cracked, and had pushed towards him a
bowl of veteran sugar, and a tin spoon that had
never been cleaned in the world, while a young per-
son stood by, and watched him, asking, " Have you.
paid for that coffee ? "
The side-shows and the other amusements seemed
to have addressed themselves to the crowd with the
same mistaken notion of its character and require-
ments ; though I confess that I witnessed their neg-
lect with regret, whether from a feeling that they
were at least harmless, or an unconscious sympathy
with any quite idle and unprofitable thmg. Those
rotary, legless horses, on which children love to ride
in a perpetual sickening circle, — the type of all our
effort, — were nearly always mounted ; but those
other whirligigs, or whatever the dreadful circles^
with their swinging seats are called, were often so
empty that they must have been distressing, from
their want of balance, to the muscles as well as the
spirits of their proprietors. The society of monsters
was also generally shunned, and a cow with five legs
gave milk from the top of her back to an audience
of not more than six persons. The public apathy
had visibly wrought upon the temper of the gen-
tleman who lectured upon this gifted animal, and
he took inquiries in an ironical manner that con-
trasted disadvantageously with the philosophical'
U
210 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
serenity of the person who had a weighing-machine
outside, and whom I saw sitting in the chair and
weighing himself by the hour, with an expression of
profound enjoyment. Perhaps a man of less bulk
could not have entered so keenly into that simple
pleasure.
There was a large tent on the grounds for dramat-
ical entertainments, with six performances a day,
into which I was lured by a profusion of high-colored
posters, and some such announcement, as that the
beautiful serio-comic danseuse and world-renowned
cloggist, Mile. Brown, would appear. About a
dozen people were assembled within, and we waited
a half-hour beyond the time announced for the cur-
tain to rise, during which the spectacle of a young man
in black broadcloth, eating a cocoa-nut with his pen-
knife, had a strange and painful fascination. At the
end of this half-hour, our number was increased to
eighteen, when the orchestra appeared, — a snare-
drummer and two buglers. These took their place
at the back of the tent ; the buglers, who were
Germans, blew seriously and industriously at their
horns ; but the native-born citizen, who played the
drum, beat it very much at random, and in the mean
time smoked a cigar, while his humorous friend kept
time upon his shoulders by striking him there with a
cane. How long this might have lasted, I cannot
tell ; but, after another delay, I suddenly bethought
me whether it were not better not to see Mile.
Brown, after all ? I rose, and stole softly out be-
hind the rhythmic back of the drummer ; and the
JUBILEE DAYS. 211
world-renowned cloggist is to me at this moment
only a beautiful dream, — an airy shape fashioned
upon a hint supplied by the engraver of the posters.
What, then, did the public desire, if it would not
smile upon the swings, or monsters, or dramatic
amusements that had pleased so long? Was the
music, as it floated out from the Coliseum, a suffi-
cient delight ? Or did the crowd, averse to the
shows provided for it, crave something higher and
more intellectual, — like, for example, a course of
the Lowell Lectures ? Its general expression had
changed : it had no longer that entire gayety of the
first day, but had taken on something of the sarcastic
pathos with which we Americans bear most oppressive
and fatiguing things as a good joke. The dust was
blown about in clouds ; and here and there, sitting
upon the vacant steps that led up and down among
the booths, were dejected and motionless men and
women, passively gathering dust, and apparently
awaiting burial under the accumulating sand, — the
mute, melancholy sphinxes of the Jubilee, with their
unsolved riddle, " Why did we come ? " At inter-
vals, the heavens shook out fierce, sudden showers
of rain, that scattered the surging masses, and sent
them flying impotently hither and thither for shelter
where no shelter was, only to gather again, and
move aimlessly and comfortlessly to and fro, like a
lost child.
So the multitude roared within and without the
Coliseum as I turned homeward ; and yet I found it
wandering with weary feet through the Garden, and
212 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
the Common, and all the streets, and it dragged its
innumerable aching legs with me to the railroad
station, and, entering the train, stood up on tliem, —
having paid for the tickets with which the companies
professed to sell seats.
How still and cool and fresh it Avas at our subur-
ban station, when the train, speeding away with a
sardonic yell over the misery of the passengers yet
standing up in it, left us to walk across the quiet
fields and pleasant lanes to Benicia Street, through
groups of little idyllic Irish boys playing base-ball,
with milch-goats here and there pastorally cropping
the herbage !
In this pleasant seclusion I let all Bunker Hill
Day thunder by, with its cannons, and processions,
and speeches, and patriotic musical uproar, hearing
only through my open window the note of the birds
sino-ing in a leafy coliseum across the street, and
making very fair music without an anvil among
them. " Ah, signor ! " said one of my doorstep
acquaintance, who came next morning and played
me Captain Jenks, — the new air he has had added
to his instrument, — " never in my life, neither at
Torino, nor at Milano, nor even at Genoa, never did
■ I see such a crowd or hear such a noise, as at that
Colosseo yesterday. The carriages, the horses, the
feet ! And the dust, O Dio mio ! All those millions
of people were as white as so many millers ! "
On the afternoon of the fourth day the city looked
quite like the mill in which these millers had been
grinding ; and even those unpromisingly elegant
JUBILEE DAYS. 213
streets of the Back Bay showed mansions powdered
with dust enough for sentiment to strike root in, and
so soften them with its tender green against the time
when they shall be ruinous and sentiment shall swal-
low them up. The crowd had perceptibly dimin-
ished, but it was still great, and on the Common it
was allured by a greater variety of recreations and
bargains than I had yet seen there. There were,
of course, all sorts of useful and instructive amuse-
ments, — at least a half-dozen telescopes, and as
many galvanic batteries, with numerous patented
inventions ; and I fancied that most of the peddlers
and charlatans addressed themselves to a utilitarian
spirit supposed to exist in us. A man that sold
whistles capable of reproducing exactly the notes of
the mocking-bird and the guinea-pig set forth the
durability of the invention. " Now, you see this
whistle, gentlemen. It is rubber, all rubber ; and
rubber, you know, enters into the composition of a
great many valuable articles. This whistle, then, is
entirely of rubber, — no worthless or flimsy material
that drops to pieces the moment you put it to your
lips," — as if it were not utterly desirable that it
should. " Now, I'll give you the mocking-bird,
gentlemen, and then I'll give you the guinea-pig,
upon this pure Indla-ruhher whistle." And he did
so with a great animation, — this young man with a
perfectly intelligent and very handsome face. " Tiy
your strength, and renovate your system ! " cried
the proprietor of a piston padded at one end and
working into a cylinder when you struck it a blow
214 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
with your fist; and the owners of lung-testing
machines called upon you from every side to try
their consumption cure ; while the galvanic-battery
men sat still and mutely appealed with inscriptions
attached to their cap-visors declaring that electricity
taken from their batteries would rid you of every ache
and pain known to suffering humanity. Yet they
were themselves as a class in a state of sad physical
disrepair, and one of them was the visible prey of
rheumatism which he might have sent flying from his
joints with a single shock. The only person whom
I saAv improving his health with the battery was a
rosy-faced school-boy, who was taking ten cents'
worth of electricity ; and I hope it did not disagree
with his pop-corn and soda-water.
Farther on was a pictux'esque group of street-
musicians, — violinists and harpers ; a brother and
four sisters, by their looks, — who afforded almost
the only unpractical amusement to be enjoyed on
the Common, though not far from them was a blind
old negro, playing upon an accordion, and singing to
it in the faintest and thinnest of black voices, who
could hardly have profited any listener. No one
appeared to mind him, till a jolly Jack-tar with both
arms cut off, but dressed ir. full sailor's togs, lurched
heavily towards him. This mariner had got quite a
good effect of sea-legs by some means, and looked
rather drunker than a man with both arms ought to
be ; but he was very affectionate, and, putting his
face close to the other's, at once entered into talk
with the blind man, forming with him a picture curi-
JUBILEE DAYS. 215
ously pathetic and grotesque. He was the only
tipsy person I saw during the Jubilee days, — if he
was tipsy, for after all they may have been real sea^
legs he had on.
If the throng upon the streets was thinner, it was
greater in the Coliseum than on the second day ; and
matters had settled there into regular working order.
The limits of individual liberty had been better
ascertained ; there was no longer any movement in
the aisles, but a constant passing to and fro, between
the pieces, in the promenades. The house presented,
as before, that appearance in which reality forsook
it, and it became merely an amazing picture. The
audience supported the notion of its unreality by
having exactly the character of the former audiences,
and impressed you, despite its restlessness and inces-
sant agitation, with the feeling that it had remained
there from the first day, and would always continue
there ; and it was only in wandering upon its bor-
ders through the promenades, that you regained
possession of facts concerning it. In no other way
was its vastness more observable than in the perfect
indifference of persons one to another. Eacli found
himself, as it were, in a solitude ; and, sequestered
in that wilderness of strangers, each was freed of his
bashfulness and trepidation. Young people lounged
at ease upon the floors, about the windows, on the
upper promenades ; and in this seclusion I saw such
betrayals of tenderness as melt the heart of the
traveller on our desolate railway trains, — Fellows
moving to and fro or standing, careless of other eyes,
216 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
with their arms around the waists of their Girls.
These were, of course, people who had only attained
a certain grade of civilization, and were not charac-
teristic of the crowd, or, indeed, worthy of notice
except as expressions of its unconsciousness. I
fancied that I saw a number of their class outside
listening to the address of the agent of a patent lini-
ment, proclaimed to be an unfailing specific for neu-
ralgia and headache, — if used in the right spirit.
" For," said the orator, " we like to cure people who
treat us and our medicine with respect. Folks say,
' What is there about that man ? — some magnetism
or electricity.' And the other day at New Britain,
Connecticut, a young man he come up to the car-
riage, sneering like, and he tried the cure, and it
didn't have the least effect upon him," There
seemed reason in this, and it produced a visible sen-
sation in the Fellows and Girls, who grinned sheep-
ishly at each other.
Why will the young man with long hair force
himself at this point into a history, which is striving
to devote itself to graver interests ? There he stood
with the other people, gazing up at the gay line of
streamers on the summit of the Coliseum, and taking
in the Anvil Chorus Avith the rest, — a young man
well-enough dressed, and of a pretty sensible face,
with his long black locks falling from under his cyl-
inder hat, and covering his shoulders. What awful
spell was on him, obliging him to make that figure
before his fellow-creatures ? He had nothing to
sell ; he was not, apparently, an advertisement of
JUBILEE DAYS. 217
any kind. Was he in the performance of a vow ?
Was he in his right mind ? For shame ! a person
may wear his hair long if he will. But why not,
then, in a top-knot ? This young man's long hair
was not in keeping with his frock-coat and his cylin-
der hat, and he had not at all the excuse of the old
gentleman who sold salve in the costume of Wash-
ington's time ; one could not take pleasure in him as'
in the negro advertiser, who paraded the grounds in
a costume compounded of a consular chapeau bras
and a fox-hunter's top-boots — the American diplo-
matic uniform of the future — and offered every one
a printed billet ; he hj^d not even the attraction of
the cabalistic herald of Hunkidori. Who was he ?
what was he ? why was he ? The mind played for-
ever around these questions in a maze of hopeless
conjecture.
Had all those quacks and peddlers been bawling
ever since Tuesday to the same listeners ? Had all
those swings and whirligigs incessantly performed
their rounds? The cow that gave milk from the
top of her back, had she never changed her small
circle of admirers, or ceased her flow? And the
gentleman who sat in the chair of his own balance,
how much did he weigh by this time ? One could
scarcely rid one's self of the illusion of perpetuity
concerning these things, and I could not believe
that, if I went back to the Coliseum grounds at any
future time, I should not behold all that vast machin-
ery in motion.
It was curious to see, amid this holiday turmoil,
218 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
men pursuing the ordinary business of their lives,
and one was strangely rescued and consoled by the
spectacle of the Irish hod-carriers, and the brick-
layers at work on a first-class swell-front residence
in the very heart of the city of tents and booths.
Even the locomotive, being associated with quieter
days and scenes, appealed, as it whistled to and fro
upon the Providence Railroad, to some soft bucolic
sentiment in the listener, and sending its note,
ordinarily so discordant, across that human uproar,
seemed to "babble of green fields." And at last
it wooed us away, and the Jubilee was again swal-
lowed up by night.
There was yet another Jubilee Day, on the morn-
ing of Avhich the thousands of public-school children
clustered in gauzy pink and wliite in the place of the
mighty chorus, while the Coliseum swarmed once
more with people who listened to those shrill, sweet
pipes blending in unison ; but I leave the reader to
imagine what he will about it. A week later, after
all was over, I was minded to walk down towards the
Coliseum, and behold it in its desertion. The city
streets were restored to their wonted summer-after-
noon tranquillity ; the Public Garden presented its
customary phases of two people sitting under a tree
and talking intimatelv together on some theme of
common interest, —
" Bees, bees, was it your hydromel? " —
of the swans sailing in full view upon the little lake :
of half a dozen idlers hanging upon the bridge to
look at them ; of children gayly dotting the paths
JUBILEE DAYS. 219
here and there ; and, to heighten the peacefuhiess
of the effect, a pretty, pale invaUd lady sat, half in
shade and half in sun, reading in an easy-chair. Far
down the broad avenue a single horse-car tinkled
slowly ; on the steps of one of the mansions charm-
ing little girls stood in a picturesque group full of
the bright color which abounds in the lovely dresses
of this time. As I drew near the Coliseum, I could
perceive the desolation wliich had fallen upon the
festival scene ; the white tents were gone ; the place
where the Avorld-renowned cloggist gave her serio-
comic dances was as lonely and silent as the site of
Carthage ; in the middle distance tAvo men were dis-
mantlino; a motionless whirligio- : the hut for the sale
of French soups was closed ; farther away, a solitary
policeman moved gloomily across the deserted spaces,
showing his dark-blue figure against the sky. The
vast fabric of the Coliseum reared itself, hushed and
deserted within and without ; and a boy in his shirt-
sleeves pressed his nose against one of the painted
window-panes in the vain effort to behold the noth-
ing inside. But sadder than this loneliness sur-
rounding the Coliseum, sadder than the festooned
and knotted banners that di-ooped funereally upon
its facade, was the fact that some of those luckless
refreshment-saloons were still open, displaying viands
as little edible now as carnival confetti. It was as
if the proprietors, in an unavailing remorse, had con-
demned themselves to spend the rest of their days
there, and, slowly consuming their own cake ahd
pop-corn, washed down with their own soda-watej
and lemonade, to perish of dyspepsia and despair.
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF
MORALS.
Any study of suburban life would be very imper-
fect without some glance at that larger part of it
which is spent in the painful pursuit of pleasures
such as are offered at the ordinary places of public
amusement ; and for this reason I excuse myself for
rehearsing certain impressions here which are not
more directly suburban, to say the least, than those
recounted in the foregoing chapter.
It became, shortly after life in Charlesbridge
began, a question whether any entertainment that
Boston could offer were worth the trouble of going
to it, or, still worse, coming from it ; for if it was
misery to hurry from tea to catch the inward horse-
car at the head of the street, what sullen lexicon
will afford a name for the experience of getting
home again by the last car out from the city ? You
have watched the clock much more closely than the
stage during the last act, and have left your play
incomplete by its final marriage or death, and have
rushed up to Bowdoin Square, where you achieve a
standing place in the car, and, utterly spent as you
are with the enjoyment of the evening, you endure
for the next hour all that is horrible in riding or
walking. At the end of this time you declare that
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 221
you will never go to the theatre again ; and after
years of suffering you come at last to keep your
word.
While yet, however, in the state of formation as
regards this resolution, I went frequently to the
theatre — or school of morals, as its friends have
humorously called it. I will not say whether any
desired amelioration took place or not in my own
morals through the agency of the stage ; but if not
enlightened and refined by everything I saw there,
I sometimes was certainly very much surprised.
Now that I go no more, or very, very rarely, I avail
myself of the resulting leisure to set down, for the
instruction of posterity, some account of perform-
ances I witnessed in the years 1868-69, which I am
persuaded will grow all the more curious, if not in-
credible, with the lapse of time.
There is this satisfaction in Kving, namely, that
whatever we do will one day wear an air of pic-
turesqueness and romance, and will win the fancy
of people coming after us. This stupid and com-
monplace present shall yet appear the fascinating
past ; and is it not a pleasure to think how our
rogues of descendants — who are to enjoy us aesthet-
ically — will be taken in with us, when they read,
in the files of old newspapers, of the quantity of
entertainment offered us at the theatres during the
years mentioned, and judge us by it ? I imagine
them two hundred years hence looking back at us,
and sighing, " Ah ! there was a touch of the old
Greek hfe in those Athenians ! How they loved the
222 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
drama in the jolly Boston of that day ! That was
the golden age of the theatre : in the winter of
1868-69, they had dramatic performances in seven
places, of every degree of excellence, and the man-
agers coined money." As we always figure our an-
cestors going to and from church, they will probably
figure us thronging the doors of theatres, and no
doubt there will be some historical gossiper among
them to sketch a Boston audience in 1869, with all
oxu" famous poets and politicians grouped together in
the orchestra seats, and several now dead introduced
with the pleasant inaccuracy and uncertainty of his-
torical gossipers. " On this night, when the beau-
tiful Tost(ie reappeared, the whole house rose to
greet her. If Mr. Alcott was on one of his winter
visits to Boston, no doubt he stepped in from the
Marlborough House, — it was a famous temperance
hotel, then in the height of its repute, — not only to
welcome back the great actress, but to enjoy a chat
between the acts with his many friends. Here,.
doubtless, was seen the broad forehead of Webster ;
there the courtly Everett, conversing in studied
tones with the gifted So-and-so. Did not the
lovely Such-a-one grace the evening Avith her pres-
ence ? The brilliant and versatile Edmund Kirke
was dead ; but the humorous Artemas Ward and
his friend Nasby may have attracted many eyes,
having come hither at the close of their lectures, to
testify their love of the beautiful in nature and
art ; while, perhaps, Mr. Sumner, in the intervals
of state cares, relaxed into the enjoyment," etc.
" Vous voyez bien le tableau ! "
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 223
That far-off posterity, learning that all our thea-
tres are filled every night, will never understand
but we were a theatre-going people in the sense
that it is the highest fashion to be seen at the play ;
and yet we are sensible that it is not so, and that
the Boston which makes itself known in civiliza-
tion — in letters, politics, reform — goes as little to
the theatre as fashionable Boston.
The stage is not an Institution with us, I should
say ; yet it affords recreation to a very large and in-
creasing number of persons, and while it would be
easy to over-estimate its influence for good or evil
even with these, there is no doubt that the stage, if
not the drama, is popular. Fortunately an inquiry
like this into a now waning taste in theatricals con-
cerns the fact rather than the effect of the taste ;
otherwise the task might become indefinitely hard
alike for writer and for reader. No one can lay his
hand on his heart, and declare that he is the worse
for having seen " La Belle Helene," for example, or
say more than that it is a thing which ought not to
be seen by any one else ; yet I suppose there is no
one ready to deny that " La Belle Helene " was the
motive of those performances that have most pleased
the most people during recent years. There was
something fascinating in the circumstances and au-
spices vmder which the united Irma and Tostde
troupes appeared in Boston — o-pera houffe led gayly
forward by finance houffe, and suggesting Erie
shares by its watered music and morals ; but there
is no doubt that Tost^e's grand reception was owing
224 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
mainly to the personal favor which she enjoyed here,
and which we do not vouchsafe to every one. Ris-
tori did not win it ; we did our duty by her, folloAv-
ing her carefully with the libretto, and in her most
intense effects turning the leaves of a thousand
pamphlets with a rustle that must have shattered
every delicate nerve in her ; but we were always
cold to her greatness. It was not for Tost^e's sing-
ing, which was but a little thing in itself ; it was
not for her beauty, for that was no more than a
reminiscence, if it was not always an illusion ; was
it because she rendered the spirit of M. Offenbach's
operas so perfectly, that we liked her so much ?
" Ah, that movement ! " cried an enthusiast, " that
swing, that — that — wriggle ! " She was undoubt-
edly a great actress, full of subtle surprises, and
with an audacious appearance of unconsciousness
in those exigencies where consciousness would sum-
mon the police — or should ; she was so near, yet so
far from, the worst that could be intended ; in tones,
in gestures, in attitudes, she was to the libretto just
as the music was, now making it appear insolently
and unjustly coarse, now feebly inadequate in its
explicit immodesty.
To see this famous lady in " La Grande Duchesse "
or " La Belle Helene " was an experience never to
be forgotten, and certainly not to be described. The
former opera has undoubtedly its proper and blame-
less charm. There is something pretty and arch in
the notion of the Duchess's falling in love with the
impregnably faitlif ul and innocent Fritz ; and the
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 225
extravagance of the whole, with the satire upon the
typical little German court, is deliglitful. But
"La Belle Hdlene " is^a wittier play than "La
Grande Duchesse," and it is the vividest expression
of the spirit of opera bouffe. It is full of such
lively mockeries as that of Helen when she gazes
upon the picture of Leda and the Swan : " J'aime
a me recueiller devant ce tableau de famille ! Mon
pere, ma mere, les. voici tons les deux ! O mon
pere, tourne vers ton enfant un bee favorable ! " —
or of Paris when he represses the zeal of Calchas,
who desires to present him at once to Helen :
" Soit ! mais sans lui dire qui je suis ; — je ddsire
garder le plus strict incognito, jusq'aii moment oil
la situation sera favorable a un coup de theatre."
But it must be owned that our audiences seemed
not to take much pleasure in these and other witti-
cisms, though they obliged Mademoiselle Tostee to
sing " Un Mari sage " three times, with all those
actions and postures which seem incredible the mo-
ment they have ceased. They possibly understood
this song no better than the strokes of wit, and en-
cored it merely for the music's sake. The effect
was, nevertheless, unfortunate, and calculated to
give those French ladies but a bad opinion of our
morals. How could they comprehend that the
taste was, like themselves, imported, and that its
indulgence here did not characterize us? It was
only in appearance that, while we did not enjoy
the wit we delighted in the coarseness. And how
coarse this travesty of the old fable mainly is !
15
22G SUBUEBAN SKETCHES.
That priest Calchas, Avith his unspeakable snicker,
his avarice, his infidelity, his hypocrisy, is alone
infamy enougli to provoke «the destruction of a city.
Then that scene interrupted by Menelaus ! It is
indisputably witty, and since all those people are so
purely creatures of fable, and dwell so entirely in
an unmoral atmosphere, it appears as absurd to
blame it as the murders in a pantomime. To be
sure there is something about murder, some inherent
grace or refinement perhaps, that makes its actual
representation upon the stage more tolerable than
the most diffident suggestion of adultery. Not that
" La Belle Helene " is open to the reproach of over-
delicacy in this scene, or any other, for the matter of
that, though there is a strain of real poetry in the
conception of this whole episode of Helen's intention
to pass all Paris's love-making off upon herself for a
dream, — poetry such as might have been inspired
by a muse that had taken too much nectar. There
is excellent character, also, as well as caricature in
the drama ; not only Calchas is admirably done, but
Agamemnon, and Achilles, and Helen, and Mene-
laus, " pas un mari ordinaire . . . . un mari epique,"
— and the burlesque is good of its kind. It is ar-
tistic, as it seems French dramatic effort must almost
necessarily be. It could scarcely be called the fault
of the opera houffe that the English burlesque should
have come of its success ; nor could the public blame
it for the great favor the burlesque won in those
far-off winters, if indeed the public wishes to bestow
blame for this. No one, however, could see one of
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 227
these curious travesties without being reminded, in
an awkward way, of the morale of the opera bouffe,
and of the personnel — as I may say — of "The
Black Crook," " The White Fawn," and the " Dev-
il's Auction." There was the same intention of
merriment at the cost of what may be called the
marital prejudices, though it cannot be claimed that
the wit was the same as in " La Belle Helene ; "
there was the same physical unreserve as in the
ballets of a former season ; while in its dramatic
form the burlesque discovered very marked parental
traits.
This English burlesque, this child of M. Offen-
bach's genius, and the now somewhat faded spectac-
ular muse, flourished at the time of which I -write
in three of our seven theatres for months, — five,
from the highest to the lowest being in turn open
to it, — and had begun, in a tentative way, to in-
vade the deserted stage even so long ago as the
previous sviranier ; and I have sometimes flattered
myself that it was my fortune to witness the first
exhibition of its most characteristic feature in a the-
atre into which I wandered one sultry night because
it was the nearest theatre. They were giving a
play called " The Three Fast Men," which had a
moral of such powerful virtue that it ought to have
reformed everybody in the neighborhood. Three
ladies being in love with the three fast men, and re-
solved to win them back to regular hour's and the
paths of sobriety by every device of the female
heart, dress themselves in men's clothes, — such is
228 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
the subtlety of the female heart in the bosoms of
modern young ladies of fashion, — and follow their
lovers about from one haunt of dissipation to an-
other and become themselves exemplarily vicious, —
drunkards, gamblers, and the like. The first lady,
who was a star in her lowly orbit, was very great
in all her different roles, appearing now as a sailor
with the hornpipe of his calling, now as an organ-
grinder, and now as a dissolute young gentleman, —
whatever was tlie exigency of good morals. The
dramatist seemed to have had an eye to her pecul-
iar capabilities, and to have expressly invented
edifying characters and situations that her talents
might enforce them. The second young lady had
also a personal didactic gift, rivaling, and even sur-
passing in some respects, that of the star ; and was
very rowdy indeed. In due time the devoted con-
duct of the young ladies has its just effect : the
three fast men begin to reflect upon the folly of
their wild courses ; and at this point the dramatist
delivers his great stroke. The first lady gives a
soirSe dansante et chantante, and the three fast
men have invitations. The guests seat themselves,
as at a fashionable party, in a semicircle, and the
gayety of the evening begins with conundrums and
playing upon the banjo ; the gentlemen are in their
morning-coats, and the ladies in a display of ho-
siery which is now no longer surprising, and which
need not have been mentioned at all except for the
fact that, in the case of the first lady, it seemed not
to have been freshly put on for that party. In this
SOME LESSONS FROJI THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 229
instance an element comical beyond intention was
present, in three young gentlemen, an amateur mu-
sical trio, who had kindly consented to sing their
favorite song of " The Rolling Zuyder Zee," as
they now kindly did, with flushed faces, unmanage-
able hands, and much repetition of
The ro-o-o-o —
• The ro-o-o-o —
The ro-o-o-o-U —
Ing Zuyder Zee,
Zuyder Zee,
Zuyder Zee-e-e !
Then the turn of the three guardian angels of the
fast men being come again they get up and dance
each one a breakdown which seems to establish
their lovers (now at last in the secret of the gen-
erous ruse played upon them) firmly in their reso-
lution to lead a better life. They are in nowise
shaken from it by the displeasure which soon shows
itself in the manner of the first and second ladies.
The former is greatest in the so-called Protean
parts of the play, and is obscured somewhat by the
dancing of the latter ; but she has a daughter who'
now comes on and sings a song. The pensive occa-
sion, the favorable mood of the audience, the sym-
pathetic attitude of the players, invite her to sing
" The Maiden's Prayer," and so we have " The
Maiden's Prayer." We may be a low set, and the
song may be affected and insipid enough, but the
purity of its intention touches, and the little girl is
vehemently applauded. She is such a pretty child,
with her innocent face, and her artless white dress,
230 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
and blue ribbons to her waist and haii\ that we will
have her back again ; whereupon she runs out upon
the stage, strikes up a rowd}^, rowdy air, dances a
shocking little dance, and vanishes from the dis-
mayed vision, leaving us a considerably lower set
than we were at first, and glad of our lowness.
This is the second lady's own ground, however, and
now she comes out — in a way that banishes far
from our fickle minds all thoughts of the first lady
and her mistaken child — ^vith a medley of singing
and dancing, a bit of breakdown, of cancan, of jig, a
bit of " Le Sabre de mon Pere," and of all merro-
rable slang songs, given with the most grotesque and
clownish spirit that ever inspired a woman. Each
member of the company follows in his or her pas
seul, and then they all dance together to the plain
confusion of the amateur trio, whose eyes roll like
so many Zuyder Zees, as they sit lonely and mo-
tionless in the midst. All stiffness and formahty
are overcome. The evening jjarty in fact disap-
pears entirely, and we are suffered to see the artists
in their moments of social relaxation sitting as it
were around the theatrical fireside. They appear
to forget us altogether ; they exchange mnks, and
nods, and jests of quite personal application ; they
call each other by name, by their Christian names,
their nicknames. It is not an evening party, it is a
famil}" party, and the suggestion of home enjoyment
completes the reformation of the three fast men.
We see them marry the three fast women before we
leave the house.
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 231
On another occasion, two suburban friends of the
drama beheld a more explicit precursor of the com-
ing burlesque at one of the minor theatres last sum-
mer. The great actress whom they had come to
see on another scene was ill, and in their disappoint-
ment they embraced the hope of entertainment of-
fered them at the smaller playhouse. The drama
itself was neither here nor there as to intent, but
the public appetite or the manager's conception of
it — for I am by no means sure that this whole
business was not a misunderstanding — had exacted
that the actresses should appear in so much stock-
ing, and so little else, that it was a horror to look
upon them. There was no such exigency of dia-
logue, situation, or character as asked the indeco-
rum, and the effect upon the unprepared spectator
was all the more stupefying from the fact that most
of the ladies were not dancers, and had not counte-
nances that consorted with improjsriety. Their
faces had merely the conventional Yankee sharp-
ness and wanness of feature, and such difference of
air and character as should say for one and another,
shop-girl, shoe-binder, seamstress ; and it seemed
an absurdity and an injustice to refer to them in
any way the disclosures of the ruthlessly scant dra-
pery. A grotesque fancy would sport with their
identity : " Did not this or that one Avrite poetry
for her local newspaper ? " so much she looked the
average culture and crudeness ; and when such a
one, coldly yielding to the manager's ideas of the
public taste, stretched herself on a green baize bank
232 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
with her feet towards us, or did a similar grossness,
it was hard to keep from crying aloud in protest,
that she need not do it ; that nobody really ex-
pected or wanted it of her. Nobody ? Alas ! there
were people there — poor souls who had the appear-
,ance of coming every night — who plainly did ex-
pect it, and who were loud in their applauses of the
chief actress. This was a young person of a power-
ful physical expression, quite unlike the rest, — who
were dyspeptic and consumptive in the range of
their charms, — and she triumphed and wantoned
through the scenes with a fierce excess of animal
vigor. She was all stocking, as one may say, being
habited to represent a prince ; she had a raucous
voice, an insolent twist of the mouth, and a terrible
trick of defying her enemies by standing erect, chin
up, hand on hip, and right foot advanced, patting
the floor. It was impossible, even in the orchestra
seats, to look at her in this attitude and not shrink
before her ; and on the stage she visibly tyrannized
over the invalid sisterhood with her full-blown fas-
cinations. These unhappy girls personated, "with a
pathetic effect not to be described, such arch anti
fantastic creations of the poet's mind as Be^vitching-
creature and Exquisitelittlepet, and the play was a
kind of fairy burlesque in rhyme, of the most mel-
ancholy stupidity that ever was. Yet there was
something very comical in the conditions of its per-
formance, and in the possibility that public and
manager were playing at cross-purposes. There
we were in the pit, an assemblage of hard-working
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 233
Yanlvees of decently moral lives and simple tradi-
tions, country-bred many of us and of plebeian stock
and training, vulgar enough perhaps, but probably
not depraved, and, excepting the first lady's friends,
certainly not educated to the critical enjoyment of
such spectacles ; and there on the stage were those
mistaken women, in such sad variety of boniness
and flabbiness as I have tried to hint, addressing
their pitiable exposure to a supposed vileness in us,
and wrenching from all original intent the innocent
dullness of the drama, whicli for the most part could
have been as well played m walking-dresses, to say
the least.
The scene was not less amusing, as regarded the
audiences, the ensuing winter, when the English
burlesque troupes which London sent us, arrived ;
but it was not quite so pathetic as regarded the per-
formers. Of their beaut}^ and their abandon^ the
historical gossipor, whom I descry far down the
future, Avaiting to refer to me as " A scandalous
wi-iter of the period," shall learn very Httle to his
purpose of warming his sketch with a color from
mine. But I hope I may describe these ladies as
very pretty, very blonde, and very unscrupulously
clever, and still disappoint the historical gossiper.
They seemed in all cases to be English ; no Yankee
faces, voices, or accents were to be detected among
them. Where they were associated with people of
another race, as happened with one troupe, the ad-
vantage of beauty was upon the Anglo-Saxon side,
while that of some small shreds of propriety was
234 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
with the Latins. • These appeared at times almost
modest, perhaps because they were the conventional
ballerhie, and wore the old-fashioned ballet-skirt
with itsvolumed gauze, — a coyness which theEng-r
lishry had greatly modified, through an exigency
of the burlesque, — perhaps because indecorum
seems, like blasphemy and untruth, somehow more
graceful and becoming in southern than in northern
races.
As for the burlesques themselves, they were noth-
ing, the performers personally everything. M. Of-
fenbach had opened Lerapriere's Dictionary to the
authors with " La Belle Helene," and there was
commonly a flimsy raveling of parodied myth, that
held together the different dances and songs, though
sometimes it was a novel or an opera burlesqued ;
but there was always a song and always a dance for
each lady, song and dance being equally slangy, and
depending for their effect mainly upon the natural
or simulated personal charms of the performer.
It was also an indispensable condition of the bur-
lesque's success, that the characters should be re-
versed in their representation, — that the men's
roles should be played by women, and that at least
one female part should be done by a man. It must
be owned that the fun all came from this character,
the ladies being too much occupied with the more
serious business of bewitching us with their pretty
figures to be very amusing ; whereas this wholesome
man and brother, with his blonde wig, his panier,
his dainty feminine simperings and languishings, his
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 235
falsetto tones, and his general air of extreme fashion,
was always exceedingly droll. He was the saving
grace of these stupid plays ; and I cannot help
thinking that the cancan^ as danced, in " Ivanhoe,"
by Isaac of York and the masculine Rebecca, was
a moral spectacle ; it was the cancan made forever
absurd and harmless. But otherwise, the bur-
lesques were as little cheerful as profitable. The
playwrights who had adapted them to the Ameri-
can stage — for they were all of English authorship
— had been good enough to throw in some political
allusions which were supposed to be effective with
us, but which it was sad to see received with apathy.
It was conceivable from a certain air with which
the actors delivered these, that they Avere in the
habit of stirring London audiences greatly with like
strokes of satire ; but except where Rebecca offered
a bottle of Medford rum to Cedric the Saxon, who
appeared in the figure of ex-President Johnson,
they had no effect upon us. We were cold, very
cold, to suggestions of Mr. Reverdy Johnson's now
historical speech-making and dining ; General But-
ler's spoons moved us just a little ; at the name of
Grant we roared and stamped, of course, though in.
a perfectly mechanical fashion, and without thought
of any meaning offered vis ; those lovely women
might have coupled the hero's name Avith whatever
insult they chose, and still his name would have
made us cheer them. We seemed not to care for
points that were intended to flatter us nationally.
I am not aware that anybody signified consciousness
236 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
when the burlesque supported our side of the Ala-
bama controversy, or acknowledged the self-devo-
tion with which a threat that England should be
made to pay was delivered by these English per-
formers. With an equal impassiveness we greeted
allusions to Erie shares and to the late Mr. Fiske.
The burlesque chiefly betrayed its descent from
the spectacular ballet in its undressing ; but that
ballet, while it demanded personal exposure, had
something very observable in its scenic splendors,
and all that marching and processioning in it was
rather pretty ; while in the burlesque there seemed
nothing of innocent intent. No matter what the
plot, it led always to a final great scene of break-
down, — which was doubtless most impressive in
that particular burlesque where this scene repre-
sented the infernal world, and the ladies gave the
dances of the country with a happy conception of
the deportment of lost souls. There, after some
vague and inconsequent dialogue, the wit springing
from a perennial source of humor (not to specify the
violation of the seventh commandment), the dan-
cing commenced, each performer beginning with the
Walk-round of the negro minstrels, rendering its
grotesqueness with a wonderful frankness of move-
ment, and then plunging into the mysteries of her
dance with a kind of infuriate grace and a fierce de-
light very curious to look upon. I am aware of the
historical gossiper still on the alert for me, and I
dare not say how sketchily these ladies were dressed,
or indeed, more than that they were dressed to re-
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 237
semble circus-riders of the other sex, but as to their
own deceived nobody, — possibly did not intend de-
ceit. One of them was so good a player that it
seemed needless for her to go so far as she did in the
dance ; but she spared herself nothing, and it re-
mamed for her merely stalwart friends to surpass
her, if possible. This inspired each who succeeded
her to wantoner excesses, to wilder insolences of
hose, to fiercer bravadoes of corsage ; while those
not dancing responded to the sentiment of the music
by singing shrill glees in tune mth it, clapping their
hands, and pattmg Juba, as the act is called, — a
peculiarly graceful and modest thing in woman.'
The frenzy grew with every moment, and, as in
another Vision of Sin, —
" Then they started from their places,
Moved with violence, changed in hue,
Caught each other with wild grimaces,
Half-invisible to the view.
Wheeling with precipitate paces
To the melody, till they flew.
Hair, and eyes, and limbs, and faces
Twisted hard in fierce embraces,
Like to Furies, like to Graces," —
with an occasional exchange of cuffs and kicks per-
fectly human. The spectator found now himself
and now the scene incredible, and indeed they were
hardly conceivable in relation to each other. A
melancholy sense of the absurdity, of the incon-
gruity, of the whole absorbed at last even a sense
of the indecency. The audience was much the same
in appearance as other audiences, witnessing like
238 SUBURBAN SKETCHES,
displays at tlie other theatres, and did not differ
greatly from the usual theatrical house. Not so
much fashion smiled upon the efforts of these young
ladies, as upon the cancan of the Signorina Mor-
lacchi a winter earlier ; but there was a most fair
appearance of honest-looking, handsomely dressed
men and women ; and you could pick out, all over
the parquet, faces of one descent from the deacon-
ship, which you wondered were not afraid to behold
one another there. The truth is, we spectators, like
the performers themselves, lacked that tradition of
error, of transgression, which casts its romance about
the people of a lighter race. We had not yet set off
one corner of the Cou^mon for a Jardin Mabille ; we
had not even the concert-cellars of the gay and ele-
gant New Yorker ; and nothing, really, had hap-
pened in Boston to educate us to this new taste in
theatricals, since the fair Quakers felt moved to tes-
tify in the streets and churches against our spiritual
nakedness. Yet it was to be noted \\\t\\ regret that
our innocence, our respectability, had no restraining
influence upon the performance ; and the fatuity of
the hope cherished by some courageous people, that
the presence of virtuous persons would reform the
stage, was but too painfully evident. The doubt
whether they were not nearer right who have de-
nounced the theatre as essentially and incorrigibly
bad would force itself upon the mind, though there
was a little comfort in the thought that, if virtue
had been actually allowed to fro-\vn upon these bur-
lesques, the burlesques might have been abashed
SOME LESSONS FROM THE SCHOOL OF MORALS. 239
into propriety. The caressing arm of the law was
cast very tenderly about the performers, and in the
only case where a spectator presmiied to hiss, — it
was at a pas seul of the indescribable, — a police-
man descended upon him, and mth the succor of
two friends of the free ballet, rent him from his
place, and triumphed forth with him. Here was an
end of ungenial criticism ; we all applauded zeal-
ously after that.
The peculiar character of the drama to which they
devoted themselves had produced, in these ladies,
some effects doubtless more interesting than profit-
able to observe. One of them, whose unhappiness
it was to take the part of soubrette in the Laughable
Commedietta preceding the burlesque, was so ill
at ease in di'apery, so full of awkward jerks and
twitches, that she seemed quite another being when
she came on later as a radiant young gentleman in
pink silk hose, and nothing of feminine modesty in
her dress excepting the very low corsage. A strange
and compassionable satisfaction beamed from her
face ; it Avas evident that this sad business was the
poor thing's /or^g. In another company was a lady
who had conquered all the easy attitudes of young
men of the second or third fashion, and who must
have been at something of a loss to identify herself
when personating a woman off the stage. But Na-
ture asserted herself in a way that gave a curious
and scarcely explicable shock in the case of that
dancer whose impudent song required the action of
fondling a child, and who rendered the passage with
240 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
an instinctive tenderness and grace, all the more
pathetic for the profaning boldness of her super-
masculine dress or undress. Commonly, however,
the members of these burlesque troupes, though
they were not like men, were in most things as un-
like women, and seemed creatures of a kind of alien
sex, parodying both. It was certainly a shocking
thing to look at them with their horrible prettiness,
their archness in which was no charm, their grace
which put to shame. Yet whoever beheld these
burlesque sisters, must have fallen into perplexing
question in his own mind as to whose was the wrong
involved. It was not the fault of the public — all
of us felt that : was it the fault of the hard-working
sisterhood, bred to this as to any other business, and
not necessarily conscious of the indecorum which
pains my reader, — obliged to please somehow, and
aiming, doubtless, at nothing but applause ? " La
Belle Hel^ne " suggests the only reasonable ex-
planation : " C'est la fatalitsy
FLITTING.
I WOULD not willingly repose upon the friendship
of a man whose local attachments are weak. I
should not demand of my intimate that he have a
yearning for the homes of his ancestors, or even the
scenes of his own boyhood ; that is not in American
nature ; on the contrary, he is but a poor creature who
does not hate the village where he was born ; yet a
sentiment for the place where one has lived two or
three years, the hotel where one has spent a week,
the sleeping car in which one has ridden from Al-
bany to Buffalo, — so much I should think it well to
exact from my friend in proof of that sensibility and
constancy without which true friendship does not
exist. So much I am ready to yield on my own
part to a friend's demand, and I profess to have all
the possible regrets for Benicia Street, now I have
left it. Over its deficiencies I cast a veil of decent
oblivion, and shall always try to look upon its worthy
and consoling aspects, which were far the more nu-
merous. It was never otherwise, I imagine, than an
ideal region in very great measure ; and if the read-
er whom I have sometimes seemed to direct thither,
should seek it out, he would hardly find my Benicia
Street by the city sign-board. Yet this is not wholl^'
because it was an ideal locality, but because much of
16
242 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
its reality has now become merely historical, a portion
of the tragical poetry of the past. Many of the
vacant lots abutting upon Benicia and the intersect-
ing streets flourished up, during the four years we
knew it, into fresh-painted wooden houses, and the
time came to be when one might have looked in
vain for the abandoned hoop-skirts which used to
decorate the desirable building-sites. The lessening
pasturage also reduced the herds which formerly fed
in the vicinity, and at last we caught the tinkle
of the cow-bells only as the cattle were driven past
to remoter meadows. And one autumn afternoon
two laborers, hired by the city, came and threw up
an Earthwork on the opposite side of the street,
which they said was a sidewalk, and would add to
the value of property in the neighborhood. Not
being di-essed with coal-ashes, however, during the
winter, the sidewalk vanished next summer under
a growth of rag-weed, and hid the increased values
with it, and it is now an even question whether this
monument of municipal grandeur will finally be held
by Art or resumed by Nature, — who indeed has a
perpetual motherly longing for her own, and may be
seen in all outlying and suburban places, pathetically
striving to steal back any neglected bits of ground
and conceal them under her skirts of tattered and
shabby verdure. But whatever is the event of this
contest, and whatever the other changes wrought in
the locality, it has not yet been quite stripped of
the characteristic charms which first took our hearts,
and which have been duly celebrated in these pages.
FLITTING. 243
When the new house was chosen, we made prep-
arations to leave the old one, but preparations so grad-
ual, that, if we had cared much more than we did,
we might have suffered greatly by the prolongation
of the agony. We proposed to ourselves to escape
the miseries of moving by transferring the contents
of one room at a time, and if we did not laugh incred-
ulously at people who said we had better have it
over at once and be done with it, it was because we
respected their feelings, and not because we believed
them. We took up one carpet after another ; one
wall after another we stripped of its pictures ; we
sent away all the books to begin with ; and by this
subtle and ingenious process, we reduced ourselves
to the discomfort of livino- in no house at all, as it
were, and of being at home in neither one place nor
the other. Yet the loo;ic of our scheme remained
perfect ; and I do not regret its failure in practice, for
if we had been ever so loath to quit the old house, its
inhospitable barrenness would finally have hurried us
forth. In fact, does not life itself in some such fashion
dismantle its tenement until it is at last forced out
of the uninhabitable place ? Are not the poor little
comforts and pleasures and ornaments removed one
by one, till life, if it would be saved, must go too ?
We took a lesson from the teachings of mortality, "
which are so rarely heeded, and we lingered over our
moving. We made the process so gradual, indeed,
that I do not feel myself all gone yet from the famil-
iar work-room, and . for aught I can say, I still write
there ; and as to the guest-chamber, it is so densely
244 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
peopled by those it has lodged that it will never quite
be emptied of them. Friends also are yet in the
habit of calling in the parlor, and talking with us ;
and will the chiklren never come off the stairs ?
Does life, our high exemplar, leave so much behind
as we did ? Is this what fills the world with ghosts?
In the getting ready to go, nothing hurt half so
much as the sight of the little girl packing her doll's
things for removal. The trousseaux of all those
elegant creatures, the wooden, the waxen, the bis-
cuit, the india-rubber, were carefully assorted, and
arranged in various small drawers and boxes ; their
house was thoughtfully put in order and locked for
transportation ; their innumerable broken sets of
dishes were packed in paper and set out upon the
floor, a heart-breaking little basketful. Nothing real
in this world is so affectino; as some imacre of real-
ity, and this travesty of our own flitting. was almost
intolerable. I will not pretend to sentiment about
anything else, for everything else had in it the ele-
ment of self-support belonging to all actual afflic-
tions. When the day of moving finally came, and
the furniture wagon, which ought to have been only
a shade less dreadful to us than a hearse, drew up
at our door, our hearts were of a Neronian hardness.
" Were I Diogenes," says wrathful Charles Lamb
in one of his letters, " I would not move out of a
kiklerkin into a hogshead, though the first had noth-
ing but small beer in it, and the second reeked claret."
I fancy this loathing of the transjtionary state came
in great part from- the rude and elemental nature of
FLITTING. 245
the means of moving in Lamb's clay. In our own
time, in Charlesbriclge at least, everything is so per-
fectly contrived, that it is in some ways a pleasant
excitement to move ; though I do not commend the
diversion to any but people of entire leisure, for it
cannot be denied that it is, at any rate, an interrup-
tion to work. But little is broken, little is defaced,
nothing is heedlessly outraged or put to shame. Of
course there are in every house certain objects of
comfort and even ornament which in a state of repose
derive a sort of dignity from being cracked, or
scratched, or organically debilitated, and give an
idea of ancestral possession and of long descent to
the actual owner ; and you must not hope that this
venerable quality will survive their public exposure
upon the furni' are wagon. There it instantly per-
ishes, like the consequence of some country notable
huddled and hustled about in the graceless and igno-
rant tumult of a great city. To tell the truth, the
number of things that turn shabby under the ordeal
of moving strikes a pang of unaccustomed poverty
to the heart which, loving all manner of makeshifts,
is rich even in its dilapidations. For the time you
feel degraded by the spectacle of that forlornness,
and if you are a man of spirit, you try to sneak out
of association with it in the mind of the passer-by ;
you keep scrupulously in-doors, or if a fancied exi-
gency obliges you to go back and forth between the
old house and the new, you seek obscure by-ways
remote from the great street down which the wairon
flaunts your ruin and decay, and time your arrivals
246 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
and departures so as to have the air of merely drop-
ping in at either place. This consoles you ; but it
deceives no one ; for the man who is moving is un-
mistakably stamped with transition.
Yet the momentary eclipse of these things is not
the worst. It is momentary ; for if you will but
plant them in kindly corners and favorable exposures
of the new house, a mould of respectability will
gradually overspread them again, and they will once
more account for their presence by the air of having
been a long time in the family ; but there is danger
that in the first moments of mortification you will be
tempted to replace them with new and costly articles.
Even the best of the old things are nothino; to boast
of in the hard, unpitying light to which they are
exposed, and a difficult and indocile spirit of extrav-
agance is evoked in the least profuse. Because of
this fact alone I should not commend the diversion
of moving save to people of very ample means as
well as perfect leisure ; there are more reasons than
the misery of flitting why the dweller in the kilder-
kin should not covet the hoo-shead reeking of claret.
But the grosser misery of moying is, as I have
hinted, vastly mitigated by modern science, and what
remains of it one may use himself to with no tre-
mendous effort. I have found that in the dentist's
chair, — that ironically luxurious seat, cushioned in
satirical suggestion of impossible repose, — after a
certain initial period of clawing, filing, scraping, and
punching, one's nerves accommodate themselves to
the torment, and one takes almost an objective in-
FLITTING. 247
terest in the operation of tooth-filling ; and in like
manner after two or three wagon-loads of your house-
hold stuff have passed down the public street, and
all your morbid associations with them have been
desecrated, you begin almost to like it. Yet I can-
not regard this abandon as a perfectly healthy emo-
tion, and I do not counsel my reader to mount himself
upon the Avngon and ride to and fro even once, for
afterwards the remembrance of such an excess will
grieve him.
Of course, I meant to imply by this that moving
sometimes comes to an end, though it is not easy to
believe so while moving. The time really arrives
when you sit down in your new house, and amid
whatever disorder take your first meal there. This
meal is pretty sure to be that gloomy tea, that loathly
repast of butter and toast, and some kind of cake,
with which the soul of the early-dining American is
daily cast down between the hours of six and seven
in the evening; and instinctively you compare it with
the last meal you took in your old house, seeking in
vain to decide whether this is more dispiriting than
that. At any rate that was not at all the meal which
the last meal in any house which has been a home
ought to be in fact, and is in books. It was hurriedly
cooked ; it was served upon fugitive and irregular
crockery ; and it was eaten in deplorable disorder,
with the professional movers waiting for the table
outside the dining-room. It ought to have been an
act of serious devotion ; it was nothing but an ex-
piation. It should have been a solemn commemo-
248 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
ration of all past dinners in the place, an invocation
to their pleasant apparitions. But I, for my part,
could not recall these at all, though now I think of
them with the requisite pathos, and I know they
were perfectly worthy of remembrance. I salute
mournfully the companies that have sat down at
dinner there, for they are sadly scattered now ; some
beyond seas, some beyond the narrow gulf, so impass-
ably deeper to our longing and tenderness than the
seas. But more sadly still I hail the host himself,
and desire to know of him if literature was not
somehow a gayer science in those days, and if his
peculiar kind of drolling had not rather more heart
in it then. In an odd, not quite expressible fashion,
something of him seems dispersed abroad and per-
ished in the guests he loved. I trust, of course,
that all will be restored to him when he turns — as
•every man past thirty feels he may when he likes,
.and has the time — and resumes his youth. Or if
this feeling is only a part of the great tacit promise
of eternity, I am all the more certain of his getting
back his losses.
I say that now these apposite reflections occur to
me with a sufficient ease, but that upon the true
occasion for them they w^ere absent. So, too, at
the first meal in the new house, there was none of
that desirable sense of setting up a family altar, but
a calamitous impression of irretrievable vipheaval,
in honor of which sackcloth and ashes seemed the
only wear. Yet even the next day the Lares and
Penates had regained something of their wonted
FLITTING. 249
cheerfulness, and life had begun again with the first
breakfast. In fact, I found myself already so firmly
established that, meeting the furniture cart which
had moved me the day before, I had the face to ask
the driver whom they were turning out of house and
home, as if my own flitting were a memory of the
far-off past.
Not that I think the professional mover expects to
be addressed in a joking mood. I have a fancy that
he cultivates a serious spirit himself, in which he
finds it easy to sympathize with any melancholy on
the part of the moving family. There is a slight
flavor of undertakino- in his manner, which is
nevertheless full of a subdued firmness very consol-
ing and supporting ; though the life that he leads
must be a troubled and uncheerful one, tiying
alike to the muscles and the nerves. How often
must he have been charged by anxious and fluttered
ladies to be very careful of that basket of china, and
those vases ! How often must he have been vexed
by the ignorant terrors of gentlemen asking if he
thinks that the library-table, poised upon the top of
his load, will hold! His planning is not infallible, and
when he breaks something uncommonly precious,
what does a man of his sensibility do ? Is the
demolition of old homes really distressing to him, or
is he inwardly buoyed up by hopes of other and bet-
ter homes for the people he moves ? Can there be
any ideal of moving? Does he, perhaps, feel a pride
in an artfully constructed load, and has he something
like an artist's pang in unloading it? Is there a
250 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
choice in families to be moved, and are some worse
or better than others ? Next to the lawyer and the
doctor, it appears to me that the professional mover
holds the most confidential relations towards his fel-
low-men. He is let into all manner of little domestic
secrets and subterfuges ; I dare say he knows where
half the people in town keep their skeleton, and
what manner of skeleton it is. As for me, when 1
saw him making towards a certain closet door, I
planted myself firmly against it. He smiled intelli-
gence ; he knew the skeleton was there, and that it
would be carried to the new house after dark.
I began by saying that I should wish my friend to
have some sort of local attachment ; but I suppose
it must be owned that this sentiment, like pity, and
the modern love-passion, is a tiling so largely pro-
duced by cultui'e that nature seems to have little or
nothing to do with it. The first men were homeless
wanderers ; the patriarchs dwelt in tents, and shifted
their place to follow the pasturage, without a sigh ;
and for children — the pre-historic, the antique peo-
ple, of our day — moving is a rapture. The last
dinner in the old house, the first tea in the new, so
doleful to their elders, are partaken of by them with
joyous riot. Their shrill trebles echo gleefully from
the naked walls and floors ; they race up and down
the carpetless stairs; they menace the dislocated
mirrors and crockery ; through all the chambers of
desolation they frolic with a gayety indomitable
«ave by bodily exhaustion. If the reader is of a
moving family, — and so he is as he is an Ameri-
FLITTING. 251
can, — lie can recall the zest he found during child-
hood in the moving which had for his elders —
poor victims of a factitious and conventional senti-
ment ! — only the salt and bitterness of tears. His
•spirits never fell till the carpets were down ; no sor-
row touched him till order returned ; if Heaven so
blessed him that his bed was made upon the floor for
one night, the angels visited his dreams. Whj,
then, is the mature soul, however sincere and hum-
ble, not onlj grieved but mortified by flitting?
Why cannot one move without feeling the great
public eye fixed in pitying contempt upon him ? This
sense of abasement seems to be something quite
inseparable from the act, which is often laudable,
and in every way wise and desirable ; and he whom
it has afflicted is the first to turn, after his own estab-
lishment, and look with scornful compassion upon
the overflowing furniture wagon as it passes. But
I imagine that Abraham's neio-libors, when he stnick
his tent, and packed his parlor and kitchen furniture
upon his camels, and started off" with Mrs. Sarah
to seek a new camping-ground, did not smile at the
procession, or find it worthy of ridicule or lament.
Nor did Abraham, once settled, and reposing in the
cool of the evening at the door of his tent, gaze
sarcastically upon the moving of any of his brother
patriarchs.
To some such philosophical serenity we shall also
return, I suppose, when we have wisely theorized
life in our climate, and shall all have become nomads
once more, following June and October up and down
252 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
and across the continent, and not suffering the full
malice of the winter and summer anywhere. But
as yet, the derision that attaches to moving attends
even the goer-out of town, and the man of many
trunks and a retinue of linen-suited womankind is a
pitiable and despicable object to all the other passen-
gers at the railroad station and on the steamboat
wharf.
This is but one of many ways in which mere
tradition oppresses us. I protest that as moving
is now managed in Charlesbridge, there is hardly
any reason Avhy the master or mistress of the house-
hold should put hand to anything ; but it is a tradi-
tion that they shall dress themselves in their worst,
as for heavy work, and shall go about very shabby
for at least a day before and a day after the transi-
tion. It is a kind of sacrifice, I suppose, to a ven-
erable ideal ; and I would never be the first to omit
it. In others I observe that this vacant and cere-
monious zeal is in proportion to an incapacity to do
anything that happens really to be required ; and I
believe that the truly sage person would devote
moving-day to paying visits of ceremony in his finest
clothes.
As to the house which one has left, I think it
would be preferable to have it occupied as soon as
possible after one's flitting. Pilgrimages to the
dismantled shrine are certainly to be avoided by the
friend of cheerfulness. A day's absence and empti-
ness wholly change its character, though the famil-
iarity continues, with a ghastly difference, as in the
" Vacant ami tcreiiiuiiious zeal." See pai^e 252.
FLITTING. 253
beloved face that the life has left. It is not at all
the vacant house it was when you came first to look
at it : for then hopes peopled it, and now memories.
In that golden prime you had long been boarding,
and any place in which you could keep house seemed
utterly desirable. How distinctly you recall that Avet
day, or that fair day, on which you went through it
and decided that this should be the guest chamber
and that the family room, and what could be done
with the little back attic in a pinch ! The children
could play in the dining-room ; and to be sure the
parlor was rather small if you wanted to have com-
pany ; but then, who would ever want to give a
party ? and besides, the pump in the kitchen was a
compensation for anything. How lightly the dumb
waiter ran up and down, —
" Qual piuma al vento! "
you sang, in very glad-heartedness. Then esti-
mates of the nvimber of yards of carpeting ; and
how you could easily save the cost from the differ-
ence between boarding and house-keeping. Adieu,
Mrs. Brown ! henceforth let your " desirable apart-
ments, en suite or single, furnished or unfurnished,
to gentlemen only! " — this married pair is about to
escape forever from your extortions.
Well, if the years passed without making us sad"
der, should we be much the wiser for their goin^ ?
Now you know, little couple, that there are extor-
tions in this wicked world beside Mrs. Brown's ; and
some other things. But if you go into the empty
254 SUBURBAN SKETCHES.
house that was lat<^ly your home, you will not, I be-
lieve, be haunted by these sordid disappointments,
for the place should evoke other regrets and medita-
tions. Truly, though the great fear has not come
upon you here, in this room you may have known
moments when it seemed very near, and when the
quick, fevered breathings of the little one timed
your own heart-beats. To that door, with many
other missives of joy and pain, came haply the dis-
patch which hurried you off to face your greatest sor-
row — came by night, like a voice of God, speaking
and warning, and making all your work idle and
your aims foolish. These walls have answered, how
many times, to your laughter ; they have had friendly
ears for the trouble that seemed to grow by utter-
ance. You have sat upon the threshold so many
summer days ; so many winter mornings you have
seen the snows drifted high about it ; so often your
step has been light and heavy upon it. There is
the study, where your magnificent performances
were planned, and your exceeding small performances
were achieved ; hither you hurried with the first crit-
icism of your first book, and read it with the rapture
that nothing but a love-letter and a favorable review
can awaken. Out there is the well-known humble
prospect, that was commonly but a vista into dream-
land ; on the other hand is the pretty grove, — its
/eaves now a little painted with the autumn, and fal-
tering to their fall.
Yes, the place must always be sacred, but pain-
fully sacred ; and I say again one should not go near
FLITTING. 265
it unless as a penance. If the reader will suffer me
the confidence, I will own that there is always a pang
in the past which is more than any pleasure it can
give, and I believe that he, if he were perfectly hon-
est, — as Heaven forbid I or any one should be, —
would also confess as much. There is no house to
which one would return, having left it, though it
were the hogshead out of which one had moved into
a kilderkin ; for those associations whose perishing
leaves us free, and preserves to us what little youth
we have, were otherwise perpetuated to our burden
and bondage. Let some one else, who has also es-
caped from his past, have your old house ; he will
find it new and untroubled by memories, while you,
under another roof, enjoy a present that borders only
upon the future.
J
.vv...
H