"Drink! drink! to whom shall we drink?
To a friend or a mistress?--Come, let me think!
To those who are absent or those who are here?
To the dead that we loved, or the living still dear?
Alas! when I look I find none of the last!
The present is barren--let's drink to the past."
PAULDING.
Though strictly a Manhattanese as a sailor, I shall not run into
rhapsody on the subject of the beauties of the inner or outer bay of
this prosperous place. No man but one besotted with provincial conceit
could ever think of comparing the harbour of New York with the Bay of
Naples; nor do I know two places, that have the same great elements of
land and water that are less alike. The harbour of New York is barely
pretty; not a particle more, if quite as much; while the Bay of Naples
is almost what its owners so fondly term it, "a little bit of heaven,
fallen upon earth." On the other hand, however, Naples, as a haven, is
not to be mentioned in the same breath with the great American mart,
which, _as a port_, has no competitor within the circle of my
knowledge, Constantinople alone excepted. I wish my semi-townsmen,
the Manhattanese, could be persuaded of these facts, as, when they
_do_ brag, as the wisest of mortals sometimes will, they might
brag of their strong, and not of their weak points, as is now too
often the case.
The Major, Emily and myself, stood on the poop, regarding the scene,
as the ship glided onward, before a good south-east breeze. I watched
the countenances of my companions with interest, for I had the
nervousness of a tyro and a provincial, on the subject of the opinions
of the people of other lands, concerning everything that affected my
own. I could see that the Major was not particularly struck; and I
was disappointed, _then_, whatever may be my opinion _now_.
Emily better answered my hopes. Whether the charming girl really felt
the vast contrast between a view of the unbroken expanse of the ocean,
and the scene before her, or was disposed to please her host, she did
not hesitate to express delight. I let her understand how much I was
gratified; and thus our long, long voyage, and that, so far as degrees
of longitude were concerned, nearly embraced the circuit of the earth,
may be said to have terminated with the kindest feelings.
The ship was off Bedlow's, and the pilot had begun to shorten sail,
when a schooner crossed our fore-foot, beating down. I had been too
much occupied with the general movement of the bay, to notice one
small craft; but, this vessel happening to tack quite near us, I could
not but turn my eyes in her direction. At that instant I heard a shout
from Neb, who was furling one of the royals. It was one of those
irrepressible "nigger gollies" that often escaped from the fellow
involuntarily.
"What do you mean by that uproar, on the mizen-royal yard," I called
out angrily--for the _style_ of my ship had now become an object
of concern with me. "Keep silence, sir, or I'll find a way to instruct
you in the art."
"Lord!--masser Mile--" cried the negro, pointing eagerly towards the
schooner--"there go Pretty Poll."
It was our old craft sure enough, and I hailed her, incontinently.
"Pretty Polly, ahoy!"
"Halloo!"
"Where are you bound, sir; and when did that schooner get in from the
Pacific?"
"We are bound to Martinique--The Poll got home from the South Seas
about six months since. This is her third voyage to the West Indies,
since."
Here then was the certainty that the cargo sent home, and the letter
with it, were all safe. I must be expected, and the owners would soon
hear of my arrival. We were not kept long in doubt; for, as the ship
entered the Hudson, a boat approached, and in her were two of the
principal members of our firm. I had seen them, and that is all; but
my own letters, and the report of the officer who brought home the
schooner, had told them all about me. Could Nelson, after his victory
of the Nile, have walked into the King of England's private cabinet
with the news of his own success, his reception would not have been
more flattering than that I now received. I was "Captain
Wallingforded" at every sentence; and commendations were so intermixed
with inquiries about the value of the cargo, that I did not know which
to answer first. I was invited to dine the very next day by both the
gentlemen in the same breath; and when I raised some objections
connected with the duty of the ship, the invitations were extended
from day to day, for a week. So very welcome is he who brings us
gold!
We went alongside of a North River wharf, and had everything secure,
just as the sun was setting. The people were then allowed to go ashore
for the night. Not a soul of them asked for a dollar; but the men
walked up the wharf attended by a circle of admiring landlords, that
put them all above want. The sailor who has three years' pay under his
lee, is a sort of Rothschild on Jack's Exchange. All the harpies about
our lads knew that the Crisis and her teas, &c. were hypothecated to
meet their own ten and twenty dollar advances.
I dressed myself hurriedly, and ordered Neb to imitate my example. One
of the owners had kindly volunteered to see Major Merton and Emily to
a suitable residence, with an alacrity that surprised me. But the
influence of England, and Englishmen, in all America, was exceedingly
great forty years since. This was still more true in New York, than in
the country generally; and a half-pay English Major was a species of
nobleman among the better sort of Manhattanese of that day. How many
of these quasi lords have I seen, whose patents of nobility were
merely the commissions of captains and lieutenants, signed by the
Majesty of England! In that day--it is nonsense to deny it--the man
who had served _against_ the country, provided he was a "British
officer," was a better man than he who had served in our own
ranks. This was true, however, only as regarded _society;_ the
ballot-boxes, and the _people_, giving very different indications of
their sentiments on such subjects. Nor is this result, so far as New
York was concerned, as surprising as, at first sight, it may possibly
appear. Viewed as a class, the gentry of New York took sides with the
crown. It is true, that the portion of this gentry which might almost
be called _baronial_--it was strictly _manorial_--was pretty equally
divided, carrying with them their collaterals; but the larger portions
of this entire class of the elite of society took sides with the
crown; and the peace of '83 found no small part of them in possession
of their old social stations; the confiscations affecting few beyond
the most important, and the richest of the delinquents. I can give an
instance, within my own immediate knowledge, of the sort of justice of
these confiscations. The head of one of the most important of all the
colonial families, was a man of indolent habits, and was much
indisposed to any active pursuits. This gentleman was enormously rich,
and his estates were confiscated and sold. Now this attainted traitor
had a younger brother who was actually serving in the British army in
America, his regiment sharing in the battles of Bunker Hill,
Brandywine, Monmouth, &c. But the Major was a younger son; and, in
virtue of that republican merit, he escaped the consequences of his
adhesion to the service of the crown; and after the revolution, the
cadet returned to his native country, took quiet possession of a
property of no inconsiderable amount, while his senior passed his days
in exile, paying the bitter penalty of being rich in a revolution. It
was a consequence of the peculiarities first mentioned, that the
Manhattanese society set so high a value on English connection. They
still admired, as the provincial only can admire; and they worshipped,
as the provincial worships; or, at a safe distance. The strange medley
of truth, cant, selfishness, sophistry and good faith, that founded
the political hostility to the movements of the French revolution, had
as ardent believers in this country, as it had in England itself; and
this contributed to sustain the sort of feeling I have described. Of
the fact, there can be no doubt, as any one will testify who knew New
York society forty years ago.
No wonder then, that Major Merton and Emily fared well, on their
sudden arrival in the country. Some romance, moreover, was attached to
their adventures; and I had no great reason to give myself any anxiety
on their account. There was little doubt of their soon being much
more at home, than I could hope to be, though in my native land.
Neb soon reported himself ready for shore-duty, and I ordered him to
follow me. It was my intention to proceed to the counting-house of the
owners, to receive some letters that awaited me, and, after writing
short answers, to despatch the black at once to Clawbonny, with the
intelligence of my return. In 1802, the Battery was the court-end of
the town, and it was a good deal frequented by the better classes,
particularly at the hour at which I was now about to cross it. I have
never returned from a voyage, especially to Europe, without being
particularly struck with two things in the great Western
Emporium--since the common councils and the editors insist on the
word--viz., the provincial appearance of everything that meets the
eye, and the beauty of the younger females; meaning, however, by the
last, the true, native, portion of the population, and not the throng
from Ireland and Germany, who now crowd the streets; and who,
certainly, as a body, are not in the least remarkable for personal
charms. But an American can tell an American, man or woman, as soon as
he lays eyes on either; and there were few besides native girls on the
Battery at the time of which I am writing. As there were many children
taking their evening walk, and black servants were far more common
than now, Neb had his share of delights, too, and I heard him exclaim
"Golly!" twice, before we reached the centre of the Battery. This
exclamation escaped him on passing as many sable Venuses, each of whom
bridled up at the fellow's admiration, and doubtless was as much
offended as the sex is apt to be on such occasions.
I must have passed twenty young women, that evening, either of whom
would induce a youth to turn round to look again; and, for the moment,
I forgot my errand. Neither Neb nor I was in any hurry. We were
strolling along, in this manner, gazing right and left, when a party
approached, under the trees, that drew all my attention to itself. In
front walked a young man and young woman, who were dressed simply, but
with a taste that denoted persons of the better class. The former was
remarkable for nothing, unless it might be a rattling vivacity, of
which large doses were administered to his fair companion, who,
seemingly, swallowed it less reluctantly than doses of another sort
are so often received. At least, I thought so, while the two were at a
distance, by the beautiful glistening teeth that were shining like my
own spotless pearls, between lips of coral. The air, beauty, figure,
and, indeed, all connected with this singularly lovely young creature,
struck my imagination at once. It was not so much her beauty, though
that was decided and attractive, as the admixture of feminine delicacy
with blooming health; the walk, so natural and yet so full of
lightness and grace; the laugh, so joyous and still so quiet and
suited to her sex; and the entire air and manner, which denoted
equally, buoyant health and happiness, the gracefulness of one who
thought not of herself, and the refinement which is quite as much the
gift of native sentiment, as the fruit of art and association. I could
not tell what her companion was saying; but, as they approached, I
fancied them acknowledged lovers, on whom fortune, friends, and
circumstances smiled alike. A glance aside told me that even Neb was
struck by the being before him, and that he had ceased looking at the
sable Venuses, to gaze at this.
I could not keep my gaze off the face of this lovely creature, who did
not let me get a good look of her dark-blue eyes, however, until I was
quite near, when they were naturally turned towards the form that
approached. For a few seconds, while in the very act of passing, we
looked intently at each other, and the charm said to be possessed by
certain animals, was not more powerful than was our mutual gaze. In
this manner we had actually passed each other, and I was still in a
sort of mystified prance, when I heard suddenly, in a voice and tone
that caused every nerve to thrill within me, the single word--
"Miles!"
Turning, and taking another look, it was impossible any longer to
mistake. Lucy Hardinge stood before me, trembling, uncertain, her face
now pale as death, now flushed to scarlet, her hands clasped, her look
doubting, eager, shrinking, equally denoting hope and fear, and all so
blended, as to render her the most perfect picture of female truth,
feeling, diffidence, and natural modesty, I had ever beheld.
"Lucy--is it--_can_ it be possible!--It is then _you_, I
thought so gloriously beautiful, and that without knowing you, too."
I take it for granted, had I studied a week, I should not have
composed a more grateful salutation than this, which burst forth in a
way that set all the usual restraints of manners at defiance. Of
course, I felt bound to go through with the matter as prosperously as
I had commenced, and in spite of the publicity of the place, in spite
of half a dozen persons, who heard what passed, and had turned,
smiling, to see what would come next, in spite of the grave-looking
gentleman who had so lately been all vivacity and gaiety, I advanced,
folded the dear girl to my heart, and gave her such a kiss, as I'll
take upon myself to say, she had never before received. Sailors,
usually, do not perform such things by halves, and I never was more in
earnest in my life. Such a salutation, from a young fellow who stood
rather more than six feet in his stockings, had a pair of whiskers
that had come all the way from the Pacific with very little trimming,
and who possessed a manliness about him of which mere walking up and
down Broadway would have robbed a young Hercules, had the effect to
cover poor Lucy with blushes and confusion.
"There--that will do, Miles," she said, struggling to get free--"a
truce, I pray you. See, yonder are Grace and my father, and Rupert."
There they all were, sure enough, the whole family having come out, to
take an evening walk, in company with a certain Mr. Andrew Drewett, a
young gentleman who was a fellow-student of Rupert's, and who, as I
afterwards ascertained, was a pretty open admirer of Rupert's
sister. There was a marked difference in the manner in which I was
received by Grace and Lucy. The first exclaimed "Miles!" precisely as
the last had exclaimed; her colour heightened, and tears forced
themselves into her eyes, but she could not be said to blush. Instead
of first manifesting an eagerness to meet my salute, and then
shrinking sensitively from it, she flung her delicate arms round my
neck, without the slightest reserve, both arms too, kissed me six or
eight times without stopping, and then began to sob, as if her heart
would break. The spectators, who saw in all this the plain, honest,
natural, undisguised affection of a sister, had the good taste to walk
on, though I could see that their countenances sympathised with so
happy a family meeting. I had but a moment to press Grace to my heart,
before Mr. Hardinge's voice drew my attention to him. The good old man
forgot that I was two inches taller than he was himself; that I could,
with ease, have lifted him from the earth, and carried him in my arms,
as if he were an infant; that I was bronzed by a long voyage, and had
Pacific Ocean whiskers; for he caressed me as if I had been a child,
kissed me quite as often as Grace had done, blessed me aloud, and then
gave way to his tears, as freely as both the girls. But for this burst
of feeling on the part of a grey-headed old clergyman, I am afraid our
scene would not altogether have escaped ridicule. As it was, however,
this saved us. Clergymen were far more respected in America, forty
years ago, than they are to-day, though I think they have still as
much consideration here as in most other countries; and the general
respect felt for the class would have insured us from any
manifestations of the sort, without the nature and emotion which came
in its aid. As for myself, I was glad to take refuge in Rupert's
hearty but less sentimental shake of the hand. After this, we all
sought a seat, in a less public spot, and were soon sufficiently
composed to converse. As for the gentleman named Drewett, he waited
long enough to inquire of Lucy who I was, and then he had sufficient
tact to wish us all good evening. I overheard the little dialogue
which produced this explanation.
"A close friend, if not a near relation, Miss Hardinge?" he observed,
inquiringly.
"Oh, yes," answered the smiling, weeping girl, with the undisguised
truth of her honest nature--"both friend and relative."
"May I presume to ask the name?"
"The name, Mr. Drewett!--Why it is Miles--dear Miles--you surely have
heard us speak of Miles--but I forget; you never were at Clawbonny--is
it not a most joyful surprise, dearest, dearest Grace!"
Mr. Andrew Drewett waited, I thought, with most commendable patience
for Grace to squeeze Lucy's hand, and to murmur her own felicitations,
when he ventured to add--
"You were about to say something, Miss Hardinge?"
"Was I--I declare I have forgotten what it was. Such a surprise--such
a joyful, blessed surprise--I beg pardon, Mr. Drewett--ah. I remember
now; I was about to say that this is Mr. Miles Wallingford, of
Clawbonny, the gentleman who is my father's ward--Grace's brother, you
know."
"And how related to yourself, Miss Hardinge?" the gentleman continued,
a little perseveringly.
"To me! Oh! very, very near--that is--I forget so much this
evening--why, not at all."
It was at this moment Mr. Drewett saw fit to make his parting
salutations with studied decorum, and to take his leave in a manner so
polite, that, though tempted, I could not, just at the moment, stop
the current of my feelings, to admire. No one seemed to miss him,
however, and we five, who remained, were soon seated in the spot I
have mentioned, and as much abstracted from the scene around us, as if
we had been on the rustic bench, under the old elm, on the lawn--if I
dare use so fine a word, for so unpretending a place--at Clawbonny. I
had my station between Mr. Hardinge and Grace, while Lucy sat next her
father, and Rupert next to my sister. My friend could see me, without
difficulty, owing to his stature, while I saw the glistening eyes of
Lucy, riveted on my face, as leaning on her father's knee, she bent
her graceful form forward, in absorbed attention.
"We expected you; we have not been taken _altogether_ by
surprise!" exclaimed good Mr. Hardinge, clapping his hand on my
shoulder, as if to say he could now begin to treat me like a man. "I
consented to come down, just at this moment, because the last Canton
ship that arrived brought the intelligence that the Crisis was to sail
in ten days."
"And you may judge of our surprise," said Rupert, "when we read the
report in the papers, 'The Crisis, _Captain Wallingford_.'"
"I supposed my letters from the island had prepared you for this," I
observed.
"In them, you spoke of Mr. Marble, and I naturally concluded, when it
came to the pinch, the man would resume the command, and bring the
ship home. Duty to the owners would be apt to induce him."
"He did not," I answered, a little proudly perhaps, forgetting poor
Marble's probable situation, for an instant, in my own vanity.
"Mr. Marble understood well, that if I knew nothing else, I knew how
to take care of a ship."
"So it seems, my dear boy, indeed, so it doth seem!" said
Mr. Hardinge, kindly. "I hear from all quarters, you conduct
commended; and the recovery of the vessel from the French, was really
worthy of Truxtun himself."
At that day, Truxtun was the great gun of American naval idolatry, and
had as much local reputation, as Nelson himself enjoyed in
England. The allusion was a sore assault on my modesty; but I got
along with it, as well as I could.
"I endeavoured to do my duty, sir," I answered, trying not to look at
Lucy, and seem meek; "and it would have been a terrible disgrace to
have come home, and been obliged to say the French got the ship from
us, when we were all asleep."
"But you took a ship from the French, in that manner, and kept her
too!" said a soft voice, every intonation of which was music to me.
I looked round and saw the speaking eyes of Lucy, just clear of the
grey coat of her father, behind which she instinctively shrank, the
instant she caught my glance.
"Yes," I answered, "we did something of that sort, and were a little
more fortunate than our enemies. But, you will recollect we were much
favoured by the complaisance of poor Monsieur Le Compte, in leaving us
a schooner to work our mischief in."
"I have always thought that part of your story, Miles, a little
extraordinary," observed Mr. Hardinge; "though I suppose this
Frenchman's liberality was, in some measure, a matter of necessity,
out there, in the middle of the Pacific."
"I hardly think you do Captain Le Compte justice, sir. He was a
chivalrous fellow, and every way a gallant seaman. It is possible, he
was rather more in a hurry than he might have been, but for his
passengers--that is all--at least, I have always suspected that the
wish to have Miss Merton all to himself, induced him to get rid of us
as soon as possible. He evidently admired her, and could have been
jealous of a dead-eye."
"Miss Merton!" exclaimed Grace. "Jealous!"
"Miss Merton!" put in Rupert, leaning forward, curiously.
"Miss Merton! And jealous of dead-eyes, and wishing to get rid of us!"
said Mr. Hardinge, smiling. "Pray who is Miss Merton? and who are the
_us_? and what are the dead-eyes?"
Lucy was silent.
"Why, sir, I thought I wrote you all about the Mertons. How we met
them in London, and then found them prisoners to Monsieur Le Compte;
and that I intended to carry them to Canton, in the Crisis!"
"You told us some of this, certainly; but, though you may have written
'all about' a _Major_ Merton, you _forgot_ to tell us 'about
_all_ the Mertons. This is the first syllable I have ever had
about a _Miss_ Merton. How is it, girls--did Miles speak of any
one but the Major, in his letter?"
"Not a syllable to me, sir, of any young lady, I can assure you,"
replied Grace, laughing. "How was it to you, Lucy?"
"Of course he would not tell me that which he thought fit to conceal
from his own sister," said Lucy, in a low voice.
"It is odd I should have forgotten to mention her," I cried,
endeavouring to laugh it off. "Young men do not often forget to write
about young ladies."
"This Miss Merton is young, then, brother?"
"About your own age, Grace."
"And handsome--and agreeable--and accomplished?"
"Something like yourself, my dear."
"But handsome, I take it for granted, Miles," observed Mr. Hardinge,
"by the manner in which you have omitted to speak of her charms, in
your letters!"
"Why sir, I think most persons--that is the world in general--I mean
such as are not over-fastidious, would consider Miss Merton
particularly handsome--agreeable in person and features, I would be
understood to say."
"Oh! you are sufficiently explicit; everybody can understand you,"
added my laughing guardian, who had no more thought of getting me
married to his own daughter, than to a German princess of a hundred
and forty-five quarterings, if there are any such things; "some other
time we will have the particulars of her eyes, hair, teeth, &c., &c."
"Oh! sir, you may save me the trouble, by looking at her yourself,
to-morrow, since she and her father are both here."
"_Here!_" exclaimed all four in a breath; Lucy's extreme surprise
extorting the monosyllable from her reserve, even a little louder than
from the rest.
"Certainly, here; father, daughter, and servants; I dare say I omitted
to speak of the servants in my letters, too; but a poor fellow who has
a great deal to do, cannot think of everything in a minute. Major
Merton has a touch of the liver complaint; and it would not do to
leave him in a warm climate. So, no other chance offering, he is
proceeding to England, by the way of America."
"And how long had you these people on board your ship, Miles?" Grace
asked, a little gravely.
"Actually on board, with myself, about nine months, I should think;
but including the time in London, at Canton, and on the island, I
should call our acquaintance one of rather more than a year's
standing."
"Long enough, certainly, to make a young lady sufficiently obvious to
a young gentleman's memory, not to be forgotten in his letters."
After this pointed speech, there was a silence, which Mr. Hardinge
broke by some questions about the passage home from Canton. As it was
getting cool on the Battery, however, we all moved away, proceeding to
Mrs. Bradfort's. This lady, as I afterwards discovered, was much
attached to Lucy, and had insisted on giving her these opportunities
of seeing the world. She was quite at her ease in her circumstances,
and belonged to a circle a good deal superior to that into which Grace
and myself could have claimed admission, in right of our own social
position. Lucy had been well received as her relative, and as a
clergyman's daughter; and Grace on her own account, as I afterwards
learned. It would be attaching too much credit to Clawbonny, to say
that either of the girls had not improved by this association; though
it was scarcely possible to make Grace more feminine and lady-like
than she had been made by nature. The effect on Lucy was simply to put
a little reserve on her native frankness, and sturdy honesty; though
candour compels me to say, that mingling with the world, and,
especially the world to which they had been introduced by Mrs.
Bradfort, had certainly increased the native charm of manner that each
possessed. I began to think Emily Merton so far from possessing any
advantage over the two girls, might now improve a little herself, by
associating with them.
At the house, I had to tell my whole story, and to answer a multitude
of questions. Not a syllable more was said about Miss Merton; and even
Lucy had smiles to bestow and remarks to make, as before. When we got
to the lights, where the girls could remove their shawls and hats, I
made each of them stand before me, in order to ascertain how much time
had altered them. Grace was now nineteen; and Lucy was only six months
her junior. The greatest change was in the latter. Her form had
ripened into something as near as possible to girlish perfection. In
this respect she had the advantage of Grace, who was a little too
slight and delicate; whereas, Lucy, without any of the heaviness that
so often accompanies a truly rounded person, and which was perhaps a
slight defect in Emily Merton's figure, was without an angle of any
sort, in her entire outline. Grace, always so handsome, and so
intellectual in the expression of her countenance, had improved less
in this respect, than Lucy, whose eyes had obtained a tenderness and
feeling that rendered them, to me, even more attractive than those of
my own dear sister. In a word, any man might have been proud, at
finding two such admirable creatures interested in him, as interested,
every look, smile, syllable, and gesture of these dear girls, denoted
they were in me.
All this time, Neb had been overlooked. He had followed us to the
house, however, and was already engaged in a dark-coloured flirtation
with a certain Miss Chloe Clawbonny, his own second-cousin, in the
kitchen; a lady who had attracted a portion of his admiration, before
we sailed, and who had accompanied her young mistress to town. As soon
as it was ascertained the fellow was below, Lucy, who was quite at
home in her kinswoman's house, insisted on his being introduced. I saw
by the indulgent smile of Mrs. Bradfort, that Lucy was not exceeding
her conceded privileges, and Neb was ordered up, forthwith. Never was
there a happier fellow than this 'nigger' appeared to be, on that
occasion. He kept rolling his tarpaulin between his fingers, shifting
his weight from leg to leg, and otherwise betraying the confusion of
one questioned by his betters; for, in that day, a _negro_ was
ready enough to allow he had his betters, and did not feel he was
injured in so doing. At the present time, I am well aware that the
word is proscribed even in the State's Prisons; everybody being just
as good as everybody else; though some have the misfortune to be
sentenced to hard labour, while others are permitted to go at
large. As a matter of course, the selections made through the
ballot-boxes, only go to prove that "one man is as good as another."
Our party did not separate until quite late. Suppers were eaten in
1802; and I was invited to sit down with the rest of the family, and a
gay set we were. It was then the fashion to drink toasts; gentlemen
giving ladies, and ladies gentlemen. The usage was singular, but very
general; more especially in the better sort of houses. We men drank
our wine, as a matter of course; while the ladies sipped theirs, in
that pretty manner in which females moisten their lips, on such
occasions. After a time, Mrs. Bradfort, who was very particular in the
observance of forms, gaily called on Mr. Hardinge for his toast.
"My dear Mrs. Bradfort," said the divine, good-humouredly, "if it were
not in your own house, and contrary to all rule to give a person who
is present, I certainly should drink to yourself. Bless me, bless me,
whom shall I give? I suppose I shall not be permitted to give our new
Bishop, Dr. Moore?"
The cry of "No Bishop!" was even more unanimous than it is at this
moment, among those who, having all their lives dissented from
episcopal authority, fancy it an evidence of an increasing influence
to join in a clamour made by their own voices; and this, moreover, on
a subject that not one in a hundred among them has given himself the
trouble even to skim. Our opposition--in which Mrs. Bradfort joined,
by the way--was of a very different nature, however; proceeding from a
desire to learn what lady Mr. Hardinge could possibly select, at such
a moment. I never saw the old gentleman so confused before. He
laughed, tried to dodge the appeal, fidgeted, and at last fairly
blushed. All this proceeded, not from any preference for any
particular individual of the sex, but from natural diffidence, the
perfect simplicity and nature of his character, which caused him to be
abashed at even appearing to select a female for a toast. It was a
beautiful picture of masculine truth and purity! Still, we would not
be put off; and the old gentleman, composing his countenance five or
six times in vain efforts to reflect, then looking as grave as if
about to proceed to prayer, raised his glass, and said--
"Peggy Perott!"
A general laugh succeeded this announcement, Peggy Perott being an old
maid who went about tending the sick for hire, in the vicinity of
Clawbonny, and known to us all as the ugliest woman in the county.
"Why do you first insist on my giving a toast, and then laugh at it
when given?" cried Mr. Hardinge, half-amused, half-serious in his
expostulations. "Peggy is an excellent woman, and one of the most
useful I know."
"I wonder, my dear sir, you did not think of adding a sentiment!"
cried I, a little pertly.
"And if I had, it would have been such a one as no woman need be
ashamed to hear attached to her name. But enough of this; I have given
Peggy Perott, and you are bound to drink her"--that we had done
already; "and now, cousin, as I have passed through the fiery
furnace--"
"Unscathed?" demanded Lucy, laughing ready to kill herself.
"Yes, unscathed, miss: and now, cousin, I ask of you to honour us with
a toast."
Mrs. Bradfort had been a widow many years, and was fortified with the
panoply of her state. Accustomed to such appeals, which, when she was
young and handsome, had been of much more frequent occurrence than of
late, she held her glass for the wine with perfect self-possession,
and gave her toast with the conscious dignity of one who had often
been solicited in vain "to change her condition."
"I will give you," she said, raising her person and her voice, as if
to invite scrutiny, "my dear old friend, good Dr. Wilson."
It was incumbent on a single person to give another who was also
single; and the widow had been true to the usage; but "good
Dr. Wilson" was a half-superannuated clergyman, whom no one could
suspect of inspiring anything beyond friendship.
"Dear me--dear me!" cried Mr. Hardinge, earnestly; "how much more
thoughtful, Mrs. Bradfort, you are than myself! Had I thought a
moment, _I_ might have given the Doctor; for I studied with him,
and honour him vastly."
This touch of simplicity produced another laugh--how easily we all
laughed that night!--and it caused a little more confusion in the
excellent divine. Mrs. Bradfort then called on me, as was her right;
but I begged that Rupert might precede me, he knowing more persons,
and being now a sort of man of the world.
"I will give the charming Miss Winthrop," said Rupert, without a
moment's hesitation, tossing off his glass with an air that said, "how
do you like _that?_"
As Winthrop was a highly respectable name, it denoted the set in which
Rupert moved; and as for the young lady I dare say she merited his
eulogium, though I never happened to see her. It was something,
however, in 1802, for a youngster to dare to toast a Winthrop, or a
Morris, or a Livingston, or a de Lancey, or a Stuyvesant, or a
Beekman, or a Van Renssellaer, or a Schuyler, or a Rutherford, or a
Bayard, or a Watts, or a Van Cortlandt, or a Verplanck, or a Jones, or
a Walton, or any of that set. They, and twenty similar families,
composed the remnant of the colonial aristocracy, and still made head,
within the limits of Manhattan, against the inroads of the
Van--something elses. Alas! alas! how changed is all this, though I
am obliged to believe it is all for the best.
"Do _you_ know Miss Winthrop?" I asked of Grace, in a whisper.
"Not at all; I am not much in that set," she answered,
quietly. "Rupert and Lucy have been noticed by many persons whom I do
not know."
This was the first intimation I got, that my sister did not possess
all the advantages in society that were enjoyed by her friend. As is
always the case where it is believed to be our _loss_, I felt
indignant at first; had it been the reverse, I dare say I should have
fancied it all very right. Consequences grew out of these distinctions
which I could not then foresee, but which will be related in their
place. Rupert now called on Grace for her toast, a lady commonly
succeeding a gentleman. My sister did not seem in the least
disconcerted: but, after a moment's hesitation, she said--
"Mr. Edward Marston."
This was a strange name to me, but I afterwards ascertained it
belonged to a respectable young man who visited Mrs. Bradfort's, and
who stood very well with all his acquaintances. I looked at Rupert, to
note the effect; but Rupert was as calm as Grace herself had been,
when he gave Miss Winthrop.
"I believe I have no one to call upon but you, Miles," said Grace,
smiling.
"Me! Why, you all know I am not acquainted with a soul. Our Ulster
county girls have almost all gone out of my recollection; besides, no
one would know them here, should I mention twenty."
"You strangely forget, brother, that most of us are Ulster county
folk. Try if you can recall no young lady--"
"Oh! easily enough, for that matter; a young fellow can hardly have
lived nine months in the same cabin with Emily, and not think of her,
when hard pushed; I will give you, Miss Emily Merton."
The toast was drunk, and I thought Mr. Hardinge looked thoughtful,
like one who had a guardian's cares, and that Grace was even grave. I
did not dare look at Lucy, though I could have toasted her all night,
had it been in rule to drink a person who was present. We began to
chat again, and I had answered some eight or ten questions, when Mrs.
Bradfort, much too precise to make any omissions, reminded us that we
had not yet been honoured with Miss Lucy Hardinge's toast. Lucy had
enjoyed plenty of time to reflect; and she bowed, paused a moment as
if to summon resolution, and then mentioned--
"Mr. Andrew Drewett."
So, then, Lucy Hardinge toasted this Mr. Drewett--the very youth with
whom she had been in such animated discourse, when I first met the
party! Had I been more familiar with the world, I should have thought
nothing of a thing that was so common; or, did I understand human
nature better, I might have known that no sensitive and delicate woman
would betray a secret that was dear to her, under so idle a form. But
I was young, and ready myself to toast the girl I preferred before the
universe; and I could not make suitable allowances for difference of
sex and temperament. Lucy's toast made me very uncomfortable for the
rest of the evening; and I was not sorry when Rupert reminded me that
it was eleven, and that he would go with me to a tavern, in order to
look for a room.
The next morning was passed in transacting the business of the ship. I
found myself much noticed among the merchants and ship-masters; and
one of my owners took me on 'Change, that I might see and be seen. As
the papers had spoken of the recapture of the Crisis, on the arrival
of the Pretty Poll, and had now each an article on the arrival of the
ship, I had every reason to be satisfied with my reception. There are
men so strong in principle, as well as intellect, I do suppose, that
they can be content with the approbation of their own consciences, and
who can smile at the praises or censure of the world, alike; but I
confess to a strong sympathy with the commendation of my
fellow-creatures, and as strong a distaste for their disapprobation. I
know this is not the way to make a very great man; for he who cannot
judge, feel and act for himself, will always he in danger of making
undue sacrifices to the wishes of others; but you can have no more of
a cat than the skin; and I was sufficiently proud at finding myself a
miniature hero, about the lower end of Wall-street, and in the columns
of the newspapers. As for these last, no one can complain of their
zeal in extolling everything national. To believe them, the country
never was wrong, or defeated, or in a condition to be defeated, except
when a political opponent could be made to suffer by an opposite
theory; and then nothing was ever right. As to fame, I have since
discovered they consider that of each individual to be public
property, in which each American has a part and parcel--the editors,
themselves, more than the man who has thrown the article into the
common lot. But I was young in 1802, and even a paragraph in my praise
in a newspaper had a certain charm for me, that I will not deny. Then
I _had_ done well, as even my enemies, if I had any must have
admitted.