Books: The Maid of Maiden Lane
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Amelia E. Barr >> The Maid of Maiden Lane
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"Cornelia Moran spends this evening with her friend Arenta Van Ariens.
Well then, would thou like an excuse to call on Arenta?"
"Oh, grandmother! Do you indeed know Arenta? Can you send me there?"
"Since she was one month old I have known Arenta. This morning, she came
here to borrow for her Aunt Jacobus my ivory winders. Now then, I did
not wish to lend Angelica Jacobus my winders; and I said to Arenta that
'by and by I would look for them.' Not far are they to seek; and for thy
pleasure I will get them, and thou canst take them this evening to
Arenta."
"O you dear, dear grandmother!" and he stood up, and lifted her rosy
face between his hands and kissed her.
"I am so fond of thee," she continued. "I love thee so much; and thy
pleasure is my pleasure; and I see no harm--no harm at all--in thy love
for the beautiful Cornelia. I think, with thee, she is a girl worth any
man's heart; and if thou canst win her, I, for one, will be joyful with
thee. Perhaps, though, I am a selfish old woman--it is so easy to be
selfish."
"Let me tell you, grandmother, you know not how to be selfish."
"Let me tell thee, Joris, I was thinking of myself, as well as of thee.
For while thy grandfather talked of Aaron Burr, this thought came into
my mind--if to Annie Hyde my Joris is married, he will live in England,
and I shall see him no more in this world. But if to Cornelia Moran he
is married, when his father goes to England, then here he will stay; he
will live at Hyde Manor, and I shall go to see him, and he will call
here to see me;--and then, many good days came into my thoughts. Yes,
yes, in every kind thing, in every good thing, somewhere there is hid a
little bit of our own will and way. Always, if I look with straight
eyes, I can find it." "Get me the winders, grandmother; for now you have
given me a reason to hurry."
"But why so quickly must you go?"
"Look at me! It will take me two hours to dress. I have had no dinner--I
want to think--you understand, grandmother?"
Then she went into the best parlour, and opening one of the shutters let
in sufficient light to find in the drawer of a little Chinese cabinet
some ivory winders of very curious design and workmanship. She folded
them in soft tissue paper and handed them to her grandson with a
pleasant nod; and the young man slipped them into his waistcoat pocket,
and then went hurriedly away.
He had spoken of his dinner, but though somewhat hungry, he made but a
light meal. His dress seemed to him the most vitally important thing of
the hour; and no girl choosing her first ball gown could have felt more
anxious and critical on the subject. His call was to be considered an
accidental one; and he could not therefore dress as splendidly as if it
were a ceremonious or expected visit. After much hesitation, he selected
a coat and breeches of black velvet, a pearl-coloured vest, and cravat
and ruffles of fine English bone lace. Yet when his toilet was
completed, he was dissatisfied. He felt sure more splendid apparel set
off his dark beauty to greater advantage; and yet he was equally sure
that more splendid apparel would not--on this occasion--be as suitable.
Doubting and hoping, he reached the Van Ariens' house soon after seven
o'clock. It was not quite dark, and Jacob Van Ariens stood on the stoop,
smoking his pipe and talking to a man who had the appearance of a
workman; and who was, in fact, the foreman of his business quarters in
the Swamp.
"Good-evening, sir," said George with smiling politeness. "Is Miss Van
Ariens within?"
"Within? Yes. But company she has tonight," said the watchful father, as
he stood suspicious and immovable in the entrance.
It did not seem to George as if it would be an easy thing to pass such a
porter at the door, but he continued,
"I have come with a message to Miss Van Ariens."
"A very fine messenger!" answered Van Ariens, slightly smiling.
"A fine lady deserves a fine messenger. But, sir, if you will do my
errand for me, I am content. 'Tis from Madame Van Heemskirk--"
"SO then? That is good."
"I am George Hyde, her grandson, you know."
"Well then, I did not know. 'Tis near dark, and I see not as well as
once I did."
"I have brought from Madame Van Heemskirk some ivory winders for Madame
Jacobus."
"Come in, come in, and tell my Arenta the message thyself. I know
nothing of such things. Come in, I did not think of thee as my friend
Van Heemskirk's grandson. Welcome art thou!" and Van Ariens himself
opened the parlour door, saying, "Arenta, here is George Hyde. A message
he brings for thy Aunt Angelica."
And while these words were being uttered, George delighted his eyes with
the vision of Cornelia, who sat at a small table with some needlework in
her hand. Arenta's tatting was over her foot, and she had to remove it
in order to rise and meet Hyde. Rem sat idly fingering a pack of playing
cards and talking to Cornelia. This situation George took in at a
glance; though his sense of sight was quite satisfied when it rested on
the lovely girl who dropped her needle as he entered, for he saw the
bright flush which overspread her face and throat, and the light of
pleasure which so filled her eyes that they seemed to make her whole
face luminous.
In a few moments, Arenta's pretty enthusiasms and welcomes dissipated
all constraint, and Hyde placed his chair among the happy group and fell
easily into his most charming mood. Even Rem could not resist the
atmosphere of gaiety and real enjoyment that soon pervaded the room.
They sang, they played, they had a game at whist, and everything that
happened was in some subtle, secret way, a vehicle for Hyde's love to
express itself. Yet it was to Arenta he appeared to be most attentive;
and Rem was good-naturedly inclined to permit his sister to be
appropriated, if only he was first in the service of Cornelia.
But though Hyde's attentions were so little obvious, Cornelia was
satisfied. It would have been a poor lover who could not have said under
such circumstances "I love you" a hundred times over; and George Hyde
was not a poor lover. He had naturally the ardent confidence and daring
which delight women, and he had not passed several seasons in the
highest London society without learning all those sweet, occult ways of
making known admiration, which the presence of others renders both
necessary and possible.
About half-past nine, a negro woman came with Cornelia's cloak and hood.
George took them from Arenta's hand and folded the warm circular round
Cornelia's slight figure; and then watched her tie her pretty pink hood,
managing amid the pleasant stir of leave-taking to whisper some words
that sang all night like sweetest music in her heart. It was Rem,
however, that gave her his arm and escorted her to her own door; and
with this rightful privilege to his guest young Hyde was far too
gentlemanly and just to interfere. However, even in this moment of
seeming secondary consideration, he heard a few words which gave him a
delightful assurance of coming satisfaction. For as the two girls stood
in the hall, Arenta said--
"You will come over in the morning, Cornelia?"
"I cannot," answered Cornelia. "After breakfast, I have to go to
Richmond Hill with a message from my mother to Mrs. Adams; and though
father will drive me there I shall most likely have to walk home. But I
will come to you in the afternoon."
"Very well. Then in the morning I will go to Aunt Angelica's with the
winders. I shall then have some news to tell you in the afternoon--that
is, if the town makes us any."
And George, hearing these words, could hardly control his delight. For
he was one of Mrs. Adams' favourites, and so much at home in her house
that he could visit her at any hour of the day without a ceremonious
invitation. And it immediately struck him that his mother had often
desired to know how Mrs. Adams fed her swans, and also that she had
wished for some seeds from her laburnum trees. These things would make a
valid excuse for an early call, as Mrs. Adams might naturally suppose he
was on his way to Hyde Manor.
He took a merry leave of Arenta, and with his mind full of this plan,
went directly to his rooms. The Belvedere Club was this night,
impossible to him. After the angelic Cornelia, he could not take into
his consciousness the hideous Marat, and the savage orgies of the French
Revolution. Such a thought transference would be an impossible
profanation. Indeed, he could consider no other thing, but the
miraculous fact, that Cornelia was going to Mrs. Adams'; and that it was
quite within his power to meet her there.
"'Tis my destiny! 'Tis my happy destiny to love her!" he said softly to
himself. "Such an adorable girl! Such a ravishing beauty is not
elsewhere on this earth!" And he was not conscious of any exaggeration
in such language. Nor was there. He was young, he was rich, he had no
business to consider, no sorrow to sober him, no care of any kind to
mingle with the rapturous thoughts which his transported imagination and
his captivated heart blended with the image of Cornelia.
"I shall tell Mrs. Adams how far gone in love I am," he continued. "She
is herself set on that clever little husband of hers; and 'tis said,
theirs was a love match, beyond all speculation. I shall say to her,
'Help me, madame, to an opportunity'; and I think she will not refuse.
As for my father, I heard him this morning with as much patience as any
Christian could do; but I am resolved to marry Cornelia. I will not give
her up; not for an earldom! not for a dukedom! not for the crown of
England!"
And to these thoughts he flung off, with a kind of passion, his coat and
vest. The action was but the affirmation of his resolve, a
materialization of his will. To have used an oath in connection with
Cornelia would have offended him; but this passionate action asserted
with equal emphasis his unalterable resolve. A tender, gallant,
courageous spirit possessed him. He was carried away by the feelings it
inspired: and nobly so, for alas for that man who professes to be in
love and is not carried away by his feelings; in such case, he has no
feelings worth speaking of!
Joris Hyde allowed the sweet emotions Cornelia had inspired to have, and
to hold, and to occupy his whole being. His heart burned within him;
memories of Cornelia closed his eyes, and then filled them with adorable
visions of her pure, fresh loveliness; his pulses bounded; his blood ran
warm and free as the ethereal ichor of the gods. Sleep was a thousand
leagues away; he was so vivid, that the room felt hot; and he flung open
the casement and sat in a beatitude of blissful hopes and imaginations.
And after midnight, when dreams fall, the moon came up over Nassau and
Cedar Streets and threw poetic glamours over the antique churches, and
grassy graveyards, and the pretty houses, covered with vines and budding
rosebushes; and this soft shadow of light calmed and charmed him. In it,
he could believe all his dreams possible. He leaned forward and watched
the silvery disc, struggling in soft, white clouds; parting them, as
with hands, when they formed in baffling, airy masses in her way. And
the heavenly traveller was not silent; she had a language he understood;
for as he watched the sweet, strong miracle, he said softly to himself--
"It is a sign to me! It is a sign! So will I put away every baffling
hindrance between Cornelia and myself. Barriers will only be as those
vaporous clouds. I shall part them with my strong resolves--I shall--I
shall--I--" and he fell asleep with this sense of victory thrilling his
whole being. Then the moon rose higher, and soon came in broad white
bars through the window and lay on his young, handsome, smiling face,
with the same sweet radiance that in the days of the gods glorified the
beautiful shepherd, sleeping on the Ephesian plains.
CHAPTER V
TURNING OVER A NEW LEAF
When Hyde awakened, he was in that borderland between dreams and day
which we call dawn. And as the ear is the last sense to go to sleep, and
the first sense to throw off its lethargy, the voices of men calling
"Milk Ho!" and the shrill childish cries of "Sweep Ho!" were the first
intruders into that pleasant condition between sleeping and waking, so
hard for any of us to leave without a sigh of regret. These sounds were
quickly supplemented by the roll of the heavy carts which purveyed the
only water suitable for drinking and culinary purposes; and by the
sounds of wood-sawing and wood-chopping before the doors of the adjacent
houses--sounds quickly blending themselves with the shuffling feet of
the slaves cleaning the doorsteps and sidewalks, and chattering,
singing, quarrelling the while with their neighbours, or with other
early ministers to the city's domestic wants.
These noises had never before made any impression on him. "I am more
alive than ever I was in my life," he said; and he laughed gayly, and
went to the window. "It is a lovely day; and that is so much in my
favour," he added, "for if it were raining, Cornelia would not leave the
house." Then a big man, with a voice like a bull of Bashan, went down
the opposite side of the street, shouting as he went--"Milk Ho!" and
Hyde considered him. He had a heavy wooden yoke across his shoulders;
and large tin pails, full of milk, hanging from it.
"How English we are!" he exclaimed, with a touch of irony. "We have not
thrown off the yoke, by any means--at Mr. Adams', for instance, I could
believe myself in England. How exclusive is the pompous little Minister!
What respect for office! What adoration for landed gentry! What
supercilious tolerance for tradesmen! Oh, indeed, it confounds me! But
why should I trouble myself? I, who have the most adorable mistress in
the world to think about! What are the kings, presidents, ministers,
knaves of the world to me? Let Destiny shuffle them back and forth. I am
indifferent to whichever is trumps."
Then he fell into a reverie about his proposed visit to Mrs. Adams. Last
night it had appeared to him an easy and natural thing to do. He was not
so sure of his position this morning. Mr. Adams might be present; he was
punctilious in the extreme, and a call without an invitation at that
early hour might be considered an impertinence--especially if he had no
opportunity to enlighten Mrs. Adams about his love for Miss Moran, and
so ask her assistance. Then he began to doubt whether his mother was on
sufficient terms of intimacy to warrant his speaking about the swans and
laburnum seeds--in short, the visit that had seemed so natural and
proper when he first conceived it, assumed, on reflection, an aspect of
difficulty and almost of impropriety.
But there are times when laissez-aller carries all before it, and Hyde
was in just such a mood. "I'll run the chance," he said. "I'll risk it.
I'll let things take their course." Then he began to dress, and as doubt
of any kind is best ended by action, he gathered confidence as he did
so. Fortunately, there was no hesitation this morning in his mind about
his dress. He was going to ride to Richmond Hill, and he was quite
satisfied with his riding suit. He knew that it was the next thing to a
becoming uniform. He knew that he looked well in it; and he remembered
with complaisance that it was old enough to be individual; and new
enough to be handsome and striking.
And, after all, when a man is in love, to be reasonable is often to be
cowardly. But Hyde was no coward; so then, it was not long ere he put
all fears and doubts behind him and set his musings to the assertion: "I
said to my heart, last night, that I would meet Cornelia at Richmond
Hill this morning. I will not go back on my word. Such fluctuability is
only fit for failure."
When he was dressed he went to his hotel and breakfasted there; for the
"cup of coffee" he had intended to ask of Mrs. Adams appeared, now, a
little presumptuous. In the enthusiasm of the previous night, with
Cornelia's smiles warming his imagination and her words thrilling his
heart, everything had seemed possible and natural; but last night and
this morning were different epochs. Last night, he had been better,
stronger than himself; this morning, he felt all the limitations of
social conveniences and tyrannies. Early as it was, there were many
members and senators present--eating, drinking coffee, and talking of
Franklin, or of the question of the Senate sitting with closed doors, or
of some other of the great little subjects then agitating society. Hyde
took no notice of any of these disputes until a man--evidently an
Englishman--called Franklin "a beggar-on-horseback-Yankee." Then he put
down his knife and fork, and looked steadily at the speaker, saying with
the utmost coolness and firmness--
"You are mistaken, sir. The beggar-on-horseback is generally supposed to
ride to the devil. Franklin rode to the highest posts of political
honour and to the esteem and affection of worthy men in all the
civilized world."
"I understand, I understand, sir," was the reply. "The infatuation of a
nation for some particular genius or leader is very like that of a man
for an ugly woman. When they do get their eyes opened, they wonder what
bewitched them."
"Sir, what is unreasonable is irrefutable." With these words he rose,
pushed aside his chair with a little temper, and, turning, met Jefferson
face to face. The great man smiled, and put his hand affectionately on
Hyde's shoulder. He had evidently heard the conversation, for when he
had made the usual greetings, he added--
"You spoke well, my young friend. Now, I will give you a piece of
advice--when any one abuses a great man in your presence, ask them what
kind of people, THEY admire. You will certainly be consoled." With these
words he took Hyde's chair; and Hyde, casting his eyes a moment on this
tall, loose-limbed man, whose cold blue eyes and red hair emphasized the
stern anger of his whole appearance, was well disposed to leave the
scurrilous Englishman to his power of reproof. Besides, the badge of
mourning which Jefferson wore had reminded him of his own neglect.
Probably, it was the want of this badge that had made the stranger
believe he was speaking to one who would sympathize with his views.
So he went at once to his tailor's and procured the necessary band of
crape for his arm. But these events took time, and though he rode hard
afterwards, it was quite half-past nine when he drew rein at the door of
Richmond Hill. A slave in a fine livery was lounging there; and he gave
him his card. In a few moments the man returned with an invitation to
dismount and come into the breakfast-room. Thus far, he had suffered
himself to be carried forward by the impulse of his heart; and he still
put firmly down any wonder as to what he should say or do.
He was shown into a bright little parlour with open windows. A table,
elegantly and plentifully spread, occupied the centre of the room; and
sitting at it were the Vice-President and Mrs. Adams; and also their
only daughter, the beautiful, but not very intellectual, Mrs. Smith. It
was easy to see that the meal was really over, and that the trio had
been simply lingering over the table because of some interesting
discussion; and it was quite as easy to understand that his entrance had
put an end to the conversation. Mrs. Adams met him with genuine, though
formal, kindness; Mrs. Smith with courtesy; and the Vice-President rose,
bowed handsomely, hoped he was well, and then after a minute's
reflection said--
"We were talking about the official title proper for General Washington.
What do you think, Lieutenant? Or have you heard General Hyde express
any opinion on the subject?"
"Sir, I do not presume to understand the ceremonials of government. My
father is of the opinion, that 'The President of the United States' has
a Roman and republican simplicity, and that any addition to it would be
derogatory and childish."
"My dear young man, the eyes of the world are upon us. To give a title
to our leaders and rulers belongs to history. In the Roman republic
great conquerors assumed even distinctive titles, as well as national
ones."
"Then our Washington is superior to them. Let us be grateful that he has
not yet called himself--Americanus. I like Doctor Kunz's idea of
Washington best, but I see not how it could be put into a civil title."
"Doctor Kunz! Doctor Kunz! Oh yes, of the Dutch congregation. Pray what
is it?"
"'And there came up a lion out of Judah.' My grandfather is an elder in
that church, and he said the verse and the sermon on it lifted the
people to their feet."
"That might do very well for one side of a state seal; but it is a
proper prefix we need. I don't think we can say 'Your Majesty the
President.'"
"I should think not," replied Mrs. Adams with an air of decision.
"Chief Justice McKean thinks 'His Serene Highness the President of the
United States' is very suitable. Roger Sherman is of the opinion that
neither 'His Highness' nor 'His Excellency' are novel and dignified
enough; and General Muhlenberg says Washington himself is in favour of
'High Mightiness,' the title used by the Stadtholder of Holland."
"That would please the Dutch-Americans," said Mrs. Adams--" if a title
at all is necessary, which I confess I cannot understand. Is it to be
'High Mightiness' then?" she asked with a little laugh.
"I think not. Muhlenberg, however, has seriously offended the President
by making a joke of the proposition; and I must say, it was ill-timed of
Muhlenberg, and not what I should have expected of him."
"But what was the joke?"
"Something to the effect that if the office was certain to be held by
men as large as Washington, the title of 'High Mightiness' would not be
amiss; but that if a little man--say like Aaron Burr--should be elected,
the title would be a ridiculous one. The fact is, Muhlenberg is against
any title whatever but that of 'President of the United States.'"
"And how will you vote, John?"
"In favour of a title. Certainly, I shall. Your Majesty is a very good
prefix. It would draw the attention of England, and show her that we
were not afraid to assume 'the majesty' of our conquest."
"And if you wish to please France," continued Mrs. Adams--"which seems
the thing in fashion--you might have the prefix 'Citizen.' 'Citizen
Washington' is not bad."
"It is execrable, Mrs. Adams; and I am ashamed that you should make it,
even as a pleasantry."
"Indeed, my friend, there is no foretelling what may be. The French
fever is rising every day. I even may be compelled to drop the offensive
'Mistress' and call myself Citoyenne Adams. And, after all, I do believe
that the President regards his citizenship far above his office. What
say you, Lieutenant?"
"I think, madame, that fifty, one hundred, one thousand years after this
day, it will be of little importance what prefix is put before the name
of the President. He will be simply GEORGE WASHINGTON in every heart and
on every page."
"That is true," said Mrs. Adams. "Fame uses no prefixes. It is Pompey,
Julius Caesar, Pericles, Alfred, Hampden, Oliver Cromwell. Or it is a
suffix like Alexander the Great; or Richard Coeur-de-Lion. I have no
objection to Washington the Great, or Washington Coeur-de-Lion."
"Washington will do for love and for fame," continued Hyde. "The next
generation may say MR. Madison, or MR. Monroe, or MR. Jay; but they will
want neither prefix nor suffix to Washington, Jefferson, Franklin,--and,
if you permit me, sir--Adams."
The Vice-president was much pleased. He said "Pooh! Pooh!" and stood up
and stepped loftily across the hearth-rug, but the subtle compliment
went warm to his heart, and the real worth of the man's nature came
straight to the front, as he looked, under its influence, the honest,
positive, honourable gentleman that every great occasion found him to
be.
"Well, well," he answered; "heartily, and from our souls, we must do our
best, and then trust to Truth and Time, our name and our memory. But I
must now go to town--our affairs give us no holidays." And then
instantly the room was in a fuss and a flurry. No Englishman could have
made a more bustling exit; and, indeed, even in his physical aspect,
John Adams was a perfect picture of the traditional John Bull. His
natural temperament carried out this likeness: high-mettled as a game-
cock during the Revolutionary war, he was, in politics, passionate,
dogmatic and unconciliating, and in social life ceremonious and showy as
any Englishman could be.
After he had gone, Mrs. Adams proposed a walk in the lovely garden; and
Hyde hoped then to obtain a few words with her. But Mrs. Smith
accompanied them, and introduced immediately a grievance she had
evidently been previously discussing. With a provoking petulance she
told and re-told some slight which Sir John Temple had offered Mr.
Smith: adding always "Lady Temple is very civil to me; but I cannot, and
I will not, exchange visits with any lady who does not pay my William an
equal civility." Enlarging and enlarging on this text, Hyde found no
opportunity to get a word in on his own affairs; and then, suddenly, as
they turned into the main avenue, Doctor Moran and Cornelia appeared.
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