IN WHICH OUR CORRESPONDENT ASTONISHES US BY ENGAGING IN SINGLE COMBAT WITH M. MICHELET, AND DEMOLISHING "L'AMOUR" AND "LA FEMME."
IN WHICH OUR CORRESPONDENT ASTONISHES US BY ENGAGING IN SINGLE COMBAT WITH M. MICHELET, AND DEMOLISHING "L'AMOUR" AND "LA FEMME."
Washington, D. C., Sept. 4th, 1862.
While I was lounging in a banker's drawing-room this morning, my boy, waiting for the filthy lucre chap to come down and say that he was glad to see me, I chanced to see the eternal "L'Amour" and "La Femme" lying upon a table in the apartment. The sight threw me into a bad humor, for I detest those books, my boy, and wish the United States of America had never seen them.
Monsieur Michelet, a French individual of questionable morals, first writes a book about "Love," and then clinches it with one about "Woman." It is hardly necessary to add, that he treats both subjects in a thoroughly French manner, and makes one a continuation of the other. Love is a charming little story in every man's life, "complete in one number"—Number one. Woman is a love-story, "to be continued" until, like all other continued stories, it ends with marriage!
Such is the logic implied by Monsieur Michelet's two books, and whether it is calculated to elevate or degrade the weaker sex, a majority of educatedAmerican women have eagerly read the books and accepted the sentiments as so many compliments. And the men? They leisurely rove through the leaves of monsieur's mental Valambrosa, and say: "How Frenchy!" And in that natural exclamation we find the most complete and just criticism of "L'Amour" and "La Femme" possible to American lips or pen.
This Michelet, my boy, is a man of talent and remarkably clear poetical perception. He is as much like Hallam as a Frenchman can be like an Englishman, and France honors him for his development of the poetry of her history; but is that any reason why he should be accepted as the modern High-priest of Love and the Censor of Woman? By no means. Madame de Stael was thinking of a Frenchman when she wrote: "Love is only an episode in man's life"—and may have referred to herself when she added: "but it is woman's whole existence." Had an American woman spoken this, we should suspect the sentiment to be nothing more than the reproach of a disappointed passion; but of the Frenchman it is indisputably true, as well as of woman wherever we find her.
The French do not know what Fidelity means, my boy; they have chameleon souls, and remain true to one object only until another comes within their reach. Like mad bulls, they are attracted by the quiescent warmth of fiery-red; and, having attained it, tear it to pieces in their passion.
What can such people know about Love? Nothing. They call Love "L'Amour," and when we speak of aman's "amours," we mean that he "loves" like a Frenchman. Monsieur Michelet is a Frenchman; and supposing him to be an ordinary one, we must accept his sentiments regarding Woman as we would those of an Apicius regarding a delicacy he apostrophizes before devouring. But Michelet's temperament is poetical, and while he looks upon Woman as a foretaste of the sensualist's paradise, and upon Love as the means of gaining it, he covers up the grossness of his ideas with robes borrowed from the angels. Adopting Kepler's canon, that "harmony is the perfection of relations," he makes Woman, the creature, a continuation of Love, the sentiment; and the tenor of his "L'Amour" and "La Femme" is, that both must be possessed by man, in order to perfect the union which makes them a perfect One.
Wherever I go I find these books: cheek to cheek they repose on the carved table of the lady's boudoir; shoulder to shoulder they stand on the library shelf;tete-a-tetethey give the rich centre-table an equivocal aspect. Young men and maidens, old men and matrons, children and chambermaids read them; yet they have no social effect. Woman understands love and herself; Man thinks he understands both; and the fictitious fervor of Monsieur Michelet has no more effect upon either than so much prismatic froth. It addresses itself piquantly to the eye, and murmurs like a shell in the ear; but once out of sight and hearing, and it is only an excuse for light talk and laxity of thought.
I am glad to record this; it shows that our national morality is in no danger of being wrecked on theFrench coast by any such tropical gales as Michelet, Feydeau, or Dumas can blow. Let our publishers bring over a few more cargoes from the Augæan stables of French literature in English bottoms, and I will guarantee them large profits. We will read them, and immediately forget all about it.
But to return to Michelet again. Our women read his "Woman," and imagine that it compliments their sex—flatters them. Fortunate is it, that flattery very seldom changes a woman's character, though it may sway her judgment. She accepts it as her right, but seldom believes it. Queen Elizabeth graciously extended her hand to be kissed when her noble lover compared her to "the sun, whose faintest ray extinguishes the brightest planet;" yet that same hand had signed the flatterer's death-warrant. At the moment she was pleased, and her good sense dazed; but her heart was not reached. Flattery, skillfully administered, may add fuel to a woman's love; but the fire must first be kindled with something more sympathetic. An American woman may read "La Femme," and complacently receive its subtleequivoquesas so much fuel added to her vanity; but that vanity was kindled into existence in the first place by the genuine homage of some honest man.
It was Michelet's "Woman," my boy, that suggested this letter; yet I did not intend, at the outset, to devote so much space to his unwholesome sophistry. If I have shown, however, that Michelet's "Woman" is only such a being as he would have created under that name, could he have changed places with the Deity, I have not wasted time and ink. Thankfortune, there is but one French deity, and his proper name commences with a D.
Now, let me give my own idea of Woman—not "La Femme."
As she stands before me in the light of Nature, she is no "enigma," as voluntarily-puzzled poets have called her; but a being easily defined, and not more nearly related to the angels than man. To the best of her sex we attribute one natural weakness and one virtue—Curiosity and Modesty. Everybody must allow this much. But why should we make such a distinction between these two qualities? Let us trace them back to their exemplar:
Eve's curiosity was the first effect of her serpentine temptation. Was it not? Well, that curiosity caused her to eat the forbidden fruit. Having eaten it, and caused Adam to eat, she suddenly became possessed of modesty, and made herself an apron of fig-leaves. It is but natural to infer that her first blush was worn at the same time, though Milton attributes blushes to the angels. As angels are immaterial beings, I think Milton was mistaken. Now, if modesty, as well as curiosity, was the result of Satanic temptation, why should one be called a weakness and the other a virtue? Are not both the fruits of original sin?
Woman's love is said to be stronger and more lasting than man's. Is it so? Let us trace it back to its beginning:
Eve's love for Adam did not prevent her fall. She met the Prince of Darkness and listened to his blandishments, as too many ladies of the present time prefer the society of bogus courtiers to that of theirAdams of husbands. She forever disgraced Adam, herself, and her future family, just to please the tempter. Was this a proof the depth and vitality of Woman's love? And Adam? Why, rather than refuse any request of the woman he loved, however extravagant, he voluntarily shared in her ruin, and courted the curse of her fall. Did this prove that Man's love is weaker and shorter-lived than Woman's?
Now, I should like to see some one impudent enough to assert that Eve was more curious, or less modest, or more fickle than are the best of her female descendants. Such impudence is not compatible with the present position of civilization. Then, as Eve was the great exemplar of her sex in Modesty and Fidelity as well as Curiosity, it follows that Woman's Modesty is the result of inherited sin, and her Fidelity in Love no greater than Man's.
Alas! for the "angels" of the poets, my boy. Prove that her Modesty and Love are anything but heavenly, and what remains to make Woman angelic?
I could honor, love, and might obey the Best of Her Sex; but I shall never worship her. She is not a Deity—only a Woman. I believe that God intends each woman for a wife; yet six marriages out of every dozen are unhappy ones. And what is the reason? Simply this:
Before marriage, man generally accepts one of the two poetical theories respecting Woman. He either supposes her to be an angel, purer and more elevated in her nature than he in his; or gloats over her as a delicate morsel prepared for his special delectation by the gods. In either case, he finds out his mistakewhen it is too late to rectify it, and his disappointment is but the refinement of disgust. He either discovers that woman is only a human being, and very much like himself by nature; or that constant familiarity with her brings her down to the level of a man in his estimation. There is but one possibility of escape from disappointment in either case; the death of husband or wife within a year of the wedding day!
Husbands and wives, have I spoken truly?
But there are exceptions to every rule. Some men marry women for the sake of having homes of their own; others, for money; still others, because it is the fashion. The man who marries for a comfortable home often gets what he desired, and is contented; the mercenary husband is likely to do and feel the same; the fashionable husband generally cuts his throat. These exceptions do not break the rule.
It may be asked: Why do widowers so often marry again, if they were so disappointed in their first wives? My boy, you are no philosopher. How many men have learned wisdom by experience? Only a few, and they are all dead. If a sailor is shipwrecked, and nearly killed on his first voyage, does he forsake the sea forever after? If a man buys an image supposed to be made of marble, and discovers that it is plaster, does he never buy another image? Because you and your neighbors chance to buy a barrel of bad eggs, are you satisfied that good ones are not to be had?
An enthusiastic young man marries a girl whom he supposes to be an "angel." A year passes, and he mourns over his mistake. A few more roll away, andshe dies. Does the widower profit by his experience? No! He says to himself: "My late wife was not an 'angel;' but that sweet girl I saw yesterday certainly is. She is entirely different from my late wife." Well, he marries angel No. 2. She proves to be No. 1 in a different dress.
A tropical young man is infatuated with the physical beauty of a girl, and marries her with the idea that he will never weary of looking at her. A year passes, and he is heartily tired of her. She dies. Does the widower profit by his experience? No! He says to himself: "I was wearied of my late wife because her hair, eyes and complexion were the same as mine. Physiologists say that opposites are necessary to matrimonial bliss. There is Miss ——, with her hair, eyes and complexion, in direct antithesis with mine. I amsureI should never weary of her!" He marries her. And tires of her.
Do you see, my boy?
And now to remedy this evil: Let us look upon woman as she is. If an "angel" with golden hair, snowy complexion, pearly teeth, heaven blue eyes, and no appetite, sounds better in poetry than a true woman, with auburn hair, fair complexion, clean teeth, and nice blue eyes, why, let the poets rant about "angels." But poetry has nothing to do with so practical an event as marriage, and its "angels" will not do for wives. A man cannot be guilty of a more absurd and unprovoked piece of injustice, than that of persisting in believing his bride more of an angel than human. He might as well go to a jeweller's, and insist upon buying a pearl for a diamond, whenthe certain result of such folly would be his denunciation of the pearl as a swindle, when time convinced him of its real character. No true woman desires to be looked upon as an "angel," nor to have her beauty valued as a joy imperishable.
It is very common for women to lament the indifference of husbands who were the most attentive and obedient of lovers. I have explained the cause of the defection.
To secure happiness—or contentment, at least—in the marriage state, we must regard woman as our equal by nature, whatever superiority or inferiority she may possess by virtue of her mental or social education. We must not lookupto her, nordownupon her, but straightather. We must not base our love for her upon supposed angelic qualities. If we desire to make her happy, and be happy ourselves, we must recognize her human origin in common with our own, and accept her physical inferiority as security for the continuance of our own love in all its normal strength.
Of course there are grades in human nature. Some natures are more refined than others, from the effects of their surroundings and education. But the lover should recognize no degree higher than his own when he selects his mistress. Then, if hers proves higher than his, after marriage, he is delighted; if the same as his, he is satisfied. But suppose it should prove lower than his? Such a supposition is untenable in a marriage of mutual affection. A superior nature will never gravitate to an inferior one by the attraction of real love. There must be a natural sympathy;and sympathy is the rock upon which all true love is founded.
Love never yet blended incompatible natures in marriage. Money often does—brute-insanity sometimes.
You have probably concluded, by this time, my boy, that my ideas of the true Woman and Monsieur Michelet's views of "La Femme" are decidedly at variance.
I have sufficient faith in the good sense of Woman to believe that she will give preference to my doctrine. If so, she will not translate "La Femme" as "Woman," but as "grisette," "lorette," or "camelia lady." To christen such a work "Woman," is to lay a snare for the Best of Her Sex, and catch the Weakest in it. The female who allows it to affect her may possibly make "a neatly-shod grisette," but never a good wife.
It may be asked why I have made "Woman" the subject of this letter, and why I have adopted such a Frenchy style?
Simply because there is no subject less understood, my boy, by the generality of young mankind; and because I deem it best to practice the doctrine ofsimilia similibus curantur(in style) while quarreling with Monsieur Michelet.
Yours, sentimentally,Orpheus C. Kerr.
GIVING ASSURANCE OF THE UNMITIGATED SAFETY OF THE CAPITAL, EXEMPLIFYING COLONEL WOBINSON's DRAFTING EXPERIENCE, AND NARRATING A GREAT METAPHYSICAL VICTORY.
GIVING ASSURANCE OF THE UNMITIGATED SAFETY OF THE CAPITAL, EXEMPLIFYING COLONEL WOBINSON's DRAFTING EXPERIENCE, AND NARRATING A GREAT METAPHYSICAL VICTORY.
Washington, D. C., September 5th, 1862.
Everything is confident and buoyant here, my boy, a sense that the President is an honest man, inspiring confidence on every side, and surrounding the Government with well-known confidence men. The repeated safety of the Capital, indeed, has even inspired the genius of New England, as illustrated by a thoughtful Boston chap, with one of those enlarged business ideas which will yet enable that section to betrade the whole world. The thoughtful Boston chap has read all the war-news, my boy, for the last six months, and as he happens to be a moral manufacturer of burglar-proof safes, a happy pecuniary thought struck him forcibly. After joining the church, to make sure of his morality here, he came hither in haste, opened an establishment, read the war-news once more, and then issued the following enterprising card:
BUY THE CELEBRATEDWASHINGTON SAFE!
Everybody thought it was the safe they'd read so much about in the papers, my boy, and several hundreds were sold.
There was another chap, named Burns, the inventor of a Family and Military Gridiron, who noticed how the thoughtful Boston chap was making money by the advertising necessities of our distracted country. Having been born in Connecticut at a very early age, my boy, he was not long in finding a way to make his own eternal fortune, after the same meritorious manner. So he at once repaired to a liquor shop, to make sure that a majority of our staff-officers would hear him, and then, says he, in stentorian tones:
"My sympathies are all with the Southern Confederacy, to whom I send the weekly journals of romance on the day of publication. As to the Union," says the Connecticut chap, hotly, "I have less confidence in it than I have in my Patent Economical Family and Military Gridiron."
He was immediately arrested for this seditious talk, my boy, and all the reporters telegraphed an exciting dispatch to the reliable morning journals:
"Exciting Affair—Arrest of an Influential Rebel!—The celebrated Mr. Burns has been arrested for publicly saying that he had more confidence in hiswell-known and ingenious patent Economical Family and Military Gridiron than he had in the Union. Upon hearing of his incarceration, the most sanguine rebel sympathizers here admitted that the cause of the South was lost forever."
The Connecticut chap remained in custody until he had received four hundred orders for gridirons, from private families and army-chaplains, and then he explained that the words he had used were uttered in the heat of passion, and he was, of course, honorably discharged from prison, to make way for a shameless, aged miscreant just committed for two years' hard labor, on suspicion of having discouraged enlistments by asserting that, although he was too old to go to the war himself, he intended to send a substitute.
Simultaneously, all the reporters telegraphed again to the reliable morning journals:
"The Burns Affair Settled!—Full Particulars of the Gridiron!—Mr. Burns, the celebrated inventor of the famous Patent Gridiron, has been honorably discharged by order of the Secretary of War. His inimitable Gridiron is destined to have an immense sale.
"It cooks a beafsteak in such a manner that the appetite is fully satisfied from merely looking at it, and the same steak will do for breakfast next morning. This is a great saving. Persons having nothing to eat find this Gridiron a great comfort, and hence the propriety of introducing it in the army."
The Gridirons are having a great sale, my boy, andit is believed that the business interests of the country are being rapidly improved by the war.
Knowing that the Mackerel Brigade was making preparations to entrap the Southern Confederacy at Molasses Junction, I ascended to the upper gallery of my architectural steed, Pegasus, on Tuesday, in order that I might not be unduly hurried on my journey. Taking Accomac on my way to the battle-field, my boy, I called upon Colonel Wobert Wobinson, who is superintending preparations for the draft there, and was witness to an incident suitable to be recorded in profane history.
The draft in Accomac, my boy, is positively to take place on the 11th of September; but it is not believed that the enrollment can be finished before the 15th; in which case, the draft must inevitably take place on the 20th. In fact, the Judge-Advocate of the Accomac states positively that the conscription will commence on the 1st of October; and volunteering is so brisk that no draft may be required. At least, such is the report of those best acquainted with the more decisive plans of the War Department, which thinks of joining the Temperance Society.
The exempts were filing their papers of exemption with Colonel Wobert Wobinson, my boy, and amongst them was one chap with a swelled eye, a deranged neck-tie, and a hat that looked as though it might have been used as an elephant's foot-bath. The chap came in with a heavy walk, and says he:
"Being a married man, war has no terror for me; but I am obliged to exempt myself from military affairs on account of the cataract in my eyes."
Colonel Wobert Wobinson looked at him sympathizingly, and says he: "You might possibly do for a major-general, my son, as it is blindness principally that characterises a majority of our present major-generals in the field; but fearing that your absence from home might cause a prostration in the liquor business, I will accept your cataract as valid."
The poor chap sighed until he reached the first hiccup, and then says he: "I wish I could cure this here cataract, which causes my eyes to weep in the absence of all woe."
"Do your orbs liquidate so freely?" says the Colonel, with the air of a family physician.
"Yes," says the poor chap, gloomily, "they are like two continual mill streams."
"Mill streams!" says Colonel Wobinson meditatively, "mill streams! Why, then, you'd better dam your eyes."
"I think, my boy, I say Ithink, that this kindly advice of Colonel Wobert Wobinson's must have been misunderstood in some way; for an instant departure of several piously-inclined recruits took place precipitately, and the poor chap chuckled like a fiend.
It is the great misfortune of our mother tongue, my boy, that words of widely-different meanings have precisely the same sound, and in using one you seem to be abusing another.
Arriving near the celebrated Molasses Junction, where a number of Mackerels were placing a number of new cars and locomotives on the track—the object being to delude the Southern Confederacy into taking a ride in them, when, it was believed, the aforesaidConfederacy would speedily be destroyed by one of those "frightful accidents" without which a day on any American railroad would be a perfect anomaly—arriving there, I say, I took an immediate survey of the appointed field of strife.
To the inexperienced civilian eye, my boy, everything appeared to be in a state of chaotic confusion, which nothing but the military genius of our generals could make much worse. On all sides, my boy, I beheld the Mackerel chaps marching and countermarching; falling back, retiring, retreating, and making retrograde movements. Some were looking for their regiments; some were insanely looking for their officers, as though they did not know that the latter have resided permanently in Washington ever since the war commenced; some were making calls on others, and here and there might be seen squads of Confederates picking up any little thing they might happen to find.
Finding the general of the Mackerel Brigade lunching upon a bottle and tumbler near me, I saluted him, and says I:
"Tell me, my veteran, how it is that you permit the Southern Confederacy to meander thus within your lines?"
The general looked toleratingly at me, and says he;
"I have a plan to entrap the Confederacy, and end this doomed rebellion at one stroke. Do you mark that long train of army wagons down there near my quarters?"
"Yes," says I, nervously.
"Well, then, my nice little boy," says the general,cautiously, "I'll tell you what the plan is. These wagons contain the rations of our troops. It is my purpose to induce the celebrated Confederacy to capture these wagons and attempt to eat those rations. If the Confederacy will only do that," says the general, fiercely, "it will be taken sick on the spot, and we shall capture it alive."
I could not but feel shocked at this inhuman artifice, my boy. The Southerners have indeed acted in away to forfeit all ordinary mercy, but still, we should abstain from any retaliatory act savoring of demoniac malignity. Our foes are at least human beings.
Suppressing my horror, however, I assumed a practical aspect, and says I:
"But how are the Mackerel warriors to subsist, my Napoleon, if you allow the rations to go?"
"Thunder!" says the general, handing me a paper from his pocket. "They are to subsist exclusively on the enemy. Just peruse this document, which I have just fulminated."
Taking the paper, I found it to be the following
PROCLAMATION.
Whereas, The matter of provisions is a great expense to the United States of America, besides offering inducements for unexpected raids on the part of the famishing foeman; the Mackerel Brigade is hereby directed to live entirely upon the Southern Confederacy, eating him alive wherever found, and partaking of no other food.
The Brigade will not be permitted to take any clothingwith it on the march, being required henceforth to dress exclusively in the habiliments of captured Confederacies.
We have done with retrograde movements. No more lines of retreat will be kept open, and henceforth the Mackerel Brigade is to make nothing but great captures.
By order ofThe General of the Mackerel Brigade.[Green Seal.]
This able document, my boy, pleased me greatly as an evidence that the war had indeed commenced in earnest; and though at that moment, I beheld some half a dozen Confederacies ransacking the tent where the general kept his mortgages, his bank account, and other Government property, I felt that our foes were about to be summarily dealt with at last.
An orderly having finally given notice to the Confederacies rummaging within our lines to get to their proper places, in order that the battle might begin, the Anatomical Cavalry, under Captain Samyule Sa-mith, made a headlong charge upon a body of foes who were destroying a bridge near the middle of the field, and succeeded in obliging them to remain there. This brilliant movement was the signal for a general engagement, and a regiment of Confederacies at once advanced within our lines and inquired the way to Washington.
Having given them the desired information, and allowed a number of other similar regiments to take a position between the Mackerels and the capital, thegeneral gave orders for the Conic Section and the Orange County Howitzers to fall cautiously back, in order that the remaining Confederacies might get between us and Richmond.
You will perceive that by this movement, my boy, we cut the enemy's force completely in two, thus compelling him to attack us either in the front or in the rear, and giving him no choice of any other operation save flank movements. Our plans being thus perfected, Captain Villiam Brown, with Company 3, Regiment 5, was ordered to charge into a wood near at hand, with a view to induce some recently-arrived reserve Confederacies to take position in our centre, while still others would be likely to flank us on the right and left.
You may remember, my boy, that it has heretofore been our misfortune to fight on the circumference of a circle, while the Confederacy had the inside, and this great strategic scheme was intended to produce a resultvice versa.
It was a great success, my boy—a great success; and our troops presently found themselves inside the most complete circle on record. Villiam Brown not only charged into the wood, but staid there; and when one of the Orange County Howitzers was discharged with great precision at a reporter who was caught sneaking into our lines, the report was heard by the Venerable Gammon at Washington, causing that revered man to telegraph to all the papers, that no one need feel alarmed, as he was perfectly safe, and that our victory was very complete.
What particular danger the Venerable Gammon hadincurred, I can't say, my boy; nor what he knew about the battle; but his dispatch caused renewed confidence all over the country, and was a great comfort to his friends.
Having got the Confederacies just where he wanted them, the General of the Mackerel Brigade now dispatched ten veterans under Sergeant O'Pake to attack a few hundred foes who had intrenched themselves in an unseemly manner right among our wagons. The Mackerels were well received as prisoners of war, and paroled on the spot; a proceeding which so greatly pleased the idolized general, that he at once issued this second
PROCLAMATION.
It must be understood, that in his recent proclamation directing the Mackerel Brigade to dine exclusively upon Southern Confederacies, the general commanding did not intend that such dining should take place without the free consent of aforesaid Confederacies.
It must not be understood that the order concerning the confiscation of Confederate garments is intended to authorize a forcible confiscation of such costume, in opposition to the free will of the wearers.
By "no lines of retreat being kept open," is meant: no lines of which the general commanding was at that time cognizant.
The General of the Mackerel Brigade.
This admirable order, my boy, produced great enthusiasm in the ranks, as no Confederacies had yet been caught, and there was some danger of starvation in thecorps.
And now, my boy, occurred that magnificent piece of generalship which is destined to live forever on the annals of fame, and convince the world that our military leaders possess a genius eminently fitting every one of them for the next Presidency, or any other peaceful office. By skillful manœuvring, the gifted General of the Mackerel Brigade had succeeded in cutting the enemy's force to pieces, the pieces being mixed up with our own army. Then came the words: "Forward, double-quick!"
Facing toward Washington, our vanguard forced the Confederacies before them to move right ahead. Swiftly following the vanguard, and evidently fancying that it was flying before them, came a regiment of Confederacies. Pursuing the latter, as though in triumph, appeared the Conic Section, Mackerel Brigade; closely succeeded in its turn by a regiment of Confederacies in charge of our baggage-wagons; racing after whom was a regiment of Mackerels; and so on to the end of the line.
You may ask me, my boy, with which side rested the victory in this remarkable movement?
That question, my boy, cannot be decided yet, as the whole procession has scarcely reached Washington; but the answer may be said to depend very much upon whether the last regiment coming in is Mackerel or Confederate.
The contest, my boy, has assumed a profound metaphysicalaspect, and the development of a little more military genius on our own side will tend to utterly confound our enemies and—everybody else.
Yours, ponderingly,Orpheus C. Kerr.
INTRODUCING ONCE MORE THE COSMOPOLITAN CLUB, WITH A CURIOUS "LAMENT," AND A STORY FROM THE SPANISH MEMBER.
INTRODUCING ONCE MORE THE COSMOPOLITAN CLUB, WITH A CURIOUS "LAMENT," AND A STORY FROM THE SPANISH MEMBER.
Washington, D. C., September 9th, 1862.
You may remember, my boy, that some months ago there was a trespass of depraved burglarious chaps at Wheatland, the seat of Ex-President Buchanan. The matter might have slipped my own mind, had not the British member of the Cosmopolitan, last night, read aloud the following memorandum of the thing, found in a deserted Confederate camp on the Rappahannock. The Briton waved his hand for silence, and says he:
LAMENT.
BY A CHEVALIER D'INDUSTRIE
It really seems as if the trickOf this here game, secession,Was bound to bring disgrace uponEach wirtuous profession.
It really seems as if the trickOf this here game, secession,Was bound to bring disgrace uponEach wirtuous profession.
The days of chivalry are gone,When gentlemen wos plucky,And sooner'd starve than lower themselvesTo make their swag and lucky.Why, when I wos a little prig,And took the junior branches,We all looked down upon the chapThat traveled vulgar ranches.It wos beneath a gentlemanTo stoop to vulgar stealin's;And when I see how things is changed,It really hurts my feelin's.We had some dignity, you see,And upper circles knew it;For if a thing wos wicious mean,We wos too proud to do it!The crib that wos respectableAmong the higher classes,We cracked in style, like gentlemen.And took the spoons and glasses.But when a crib wos something low—An author's, or a preacher's—We had too much of self-respectTo recognize the creatures.If taking watches wos the lay,Or handkerchers, or purses,We never noticed wulgar nobs,Nor wictims of rewerses.But things is changed since Johnny died,And our profession's fallenSo werry low, it really ain'tA gentlemanly callin'.There's some as once wos gentlemenWhen cracksmen's art was balmy,Now shame us all by fig'ring asContractors for the army!What wonder, when our former pal,A vulgar, sneakin' knave is,They hang our pictures in a rowWith Floyd, and Cobb, and Davis?But just as if this wa'n't enoughTo make us hide our faces,A man we once look'd up to, all,Must add to our disgraces;A base, degenerate, shameless coveHas sullied our profession,By stoopin' to a lay that isDepraved beyond expression.He's activally come and went—The werry thought's unmannin'—He's activally gone and robbedEx-President Buchanan!
The days of chivalry are gone,When gentlemen wos plucky,And sooner'd starve than lower themselvesTo make their swag and lucky.
Why, when I wos a little prig,And took the junior branches,We all looked down upon the chapThat traveled vulgar ranches.
It wos beneath a gentlemanTo stoop to vulgar stealin's;And when I see how things is changed,It really hurts my feelin's.
We had some dignity, you see,And upper circles knew it;For if a thing wos wicious mean,We wos too proud to do it!
The crib that wos respectableAmong the higher classes,We cracked in style, like gentlemen.And took the spoons and glasses.
But when a crib wos something low—An author's, or a preacher's—We had too much of self-respectTo recognize the creatures.
If taking watches wos the lay,Or handkerchers, or purses,We never noticed wulgar nobs,Nor wictims of rewerses.
But things is changed since Johnny died,And our profession's fallenSo werry low, it really ain'tA gentlemanly callin'.
There's some as once wos gentlemenWhen cracksmen's art was balmy,Now shame us all by fig'ring asContractors for the army!
What wonder, when our former pal,A vulgar, sneakin' knave is,They hang our pictures in a rowWith Floyd, and Cobb, and Davis?
But just as if this wa'n't enoughTo make us hide our faces,A man we once look'd up to, all,Must add to our disgraces;
A base, degenerate, shameless coveHas sullied our profession,By stoopin' to a lay that isDepraved beyond expression.
He's activally come and went—The werry thought's unmannin'—He's activally gone and robbedEx-President Buchanan!
Alas! my boy, there is naught so fallen in humanity, but it may become still more depraved. I have known members of State Legislatures to be finally elected Congressmen. After the abovechansonhad been read, the Spanish member gave us his story of
DON BOBADIL BANCO;
OR, WHO OWNS THE BABY?
"I always respect a man who drinks good Port, especially if he frequently invites me to take dinner with him, and hence I have selected as my hero, a gallant Spaniard, whose fondness for the delicious juice was never doubted.
"Don Bobadil Banco was a gentleman of good family, who graduated with honor at Salamanca, and retired from thence to Madrid, in company with a fellow student named Don Philip Funesca. The erudite pair hired lodgings in an aristocratic part of the city, and after much delay, installed one Dame Margy as their housekeeper, cook, and chambermaid, being resolved to husband their scanty resources until, by coming of age, they could inherit the estates and fortunes of their fathers.
"It is to be presumed that the friends entered society and made consummate fools of themselves, as very young men generally do when they first mingle with ladies; but as that period of their career can possess very little novelty for most people, I shall only favor it with this passing notice, and at once introducethe gallant pair as they appeared on the —— night, in the month of ——, in the year of our Lord ——, at — o'clock.
"In a very small room, before a very small window, was standing a very small table, at the side of which were two very shabby chairs, on which were seated two very young men; and as it was growing very dark, two very small candles, in two very small candlesticks, were placed on the very small table, in company with two very small decanters, filled with very cheap Port, and two very old goblets, of very dirty pewter.
"The two very young men remained very still for a very long time, save when they made very long applications to the very old goblets of very cheap Port; and as you must be very anxious to know whether these very young men were very ugly or very good looking, I shall be very happy to profit by this very opportune state of things, and give a very concise description of their personal charms.
"Don Bobadil was very tall, very thin, with very long black hair, very small black eyes; very yellow complexion, very good teeth, and was dressed very foppishly.
"Don Philip was very short, very fat, with very long brown hair, very large brown eyes, very fair complexion, very large mouth, and was plainly attired.
"They both looked very happy, and drank very often.
"'Well, Philip,' said Bobadil, at length, 'a bachelor's life, in Madrid, is not quite so charming as in Salamanca; upon my word I have almost become alimb of society, and it will prove a sad dismemberment when I go to my father's villa. These gay senoritas have so completely infatuated me, that I am never happy out of their company, and when I think of leaving them altogether, it makes me really miserable,' and the Don consoled himself with a huge swallow of wine.
"'I perfectly agree with you,' answered Don Philip, 'and dread the idea of leaving the dear charmers without making one of them a prisoner.'
"'We must have more gold soon,' said Bobadil, gloomily, taking a goblet of Port.
"'You speak truly, my friend. Our purses are growing very light, and nothing but wealthy wives will make them heavy. How unjust is the decree that makes us wait until we are older before we can help ourselves to the treasures of our families. Here are nearly thirty hairs upon my chin, and yet the grim old hidalgoes call me a boy yet. Sancta Maria! I should like to cross swords with some of those shaking grandees, just to convince them that I have the strength of a man, if I have not his years.'
"'The wish is perfectly natural, Don Philip, yet it can do us no good at present, when our last flagons of wine stand before us, and Dame Margy grows clamorous for her dues,' said Bobadil, imbibing large draughts of grape juice.
"'O, beatissimo, neustra Senora!Don't dwell on unpleasant facts, Don Bobadil,' responded the other; 'we must replenish our treasures, and the means to do it should be our present consideration. We must marry stores of maravedis.'
"'That is coming to the point, my dear friend, and your words are worthy of a sage; but, my dear Philip, to tell the truth, I dread marriage for one reason, namely: that, by engaging in it, one becomes liable to incur responsibilities known as babies. I do hate those noisy little nuisances as I hate the devil, and, to have one constantly squalling in my ears, would soon make a madman of me,' and our hero drank heartily of liquor.
"'I will allow the truth of what you say,' replied Philip; 'the cry of an infant is not quite as musical as the harp of Orpheus. Still, it is better to endure such annoyance than to go about with empty purses, and when one who is poor desires to have money, he must endure matrimony, or become a rogue. Now there is Lisette, ready to fall into my arms at any moment, and bring me a long purse; but I will never leave you a bachelor, though I starve.'
"Tears arose involuntarily to the eyes of Bobadil, as his friend spoke thus disinterestedly, and, after holding a cup of wine to his lips for some moments, he answered:
"'My dear fellow, you are a sage and I am a fool. You shall not starve for me though I have to become the father of five hundred little imps to save you. Yes, dear Philip, I will sacrifice myself upon the altar of friendship, and become a victim of Hymen.' Here the emotions of the Spaniard became so violent that a large quantity of Port wine was necessary to prevent syncope.
"Don Philip started from his seat, and eyed his friend with every mark of unbounded surprise.
"'Can you do it soon?' he asked hurriedly.
"'Before another pair of days have shown their tails above the tide of time,' answered Bobadil with poetic fervor, having recourse to the decanter containing Port.
"'My dear friend, you must be drunk.'
"'No, Don Philip, I am sober as a monument.'
"'Has some fair sonora smiled upon you?'
"'Not only has she smiled upon me, but she has actually laughed at me. Port would never intoxicate me.'
"'Per Dio!I never heard of this before, Bobadil.'
"'Nevertheless, Don Philip, it is true as apater. My pride would not allow me to mention my case to you, until I became successful in my suit; and when that was decided, I waited until you should be similarly circumstanced, and we might marry together. Your frequent absence from our lodgings, at night, aroused my suspicions, and I resolved to find out your secret before imparting mine. Now that you have named your mistress, I will acknowledge that I, also, have one, whose name is Leonora, and I intend to make her my wife, when you lead Lisette to the altar.'
"'I am rejoiced to hear you speak thus,' answered Don Philip, 'and Lisette will partake of my joy; but, tell me, Bobadil, will you gain wealth by this union?'
"'Gold enough to build a second Escurial, my dear Philip. Leonora is the daughter of a rich Jew, and can show more maravedis than the Infanta of Spain.'
"'Better and better. But how is it that her father will allow her to wed a Catholic?' inquired Philip.
"'He is not to be consulted in the matter at all. I may as well relate the circumstances of our acquaintance, and you will at once perceive that the Israelite's consent is not required. Two weeks ago, I was passing a small house not far from the Plaza del Rio, and, chancing to look up, beheld the face of a beautiful Senora looking from a window. Our glances met, whereupon she drew back with a blush, and I gallantly kissed the tip of my glove. Although she immediately drew shut the lattice, I fancied, from her look, that she was not displeased with my conduct, and set about finding out who she was. I soon ascertained that her father was a rich Jew, named Miguel, that his wife was dead, and that he lived with his daughter and a wrinkled duenna, whom he had enlisted to watch Leonora. Much as I despise Jews, the beauty of Leonora had sunk into my heart, and I resolved to have an interview with her, though our most Holy Church, should excommunicate me for it. Accordingly, I passed the house every day for a week, and each time the lady withdrew from the window with a blush, as I saluted her. This encouraged me to scrape acquaintance with the pythoness who guarded her, and by means of several small bribes, I was at length admitted to a private interview with Leonora. My idol was coy at first, but after one or two stolen visits, she returned my passion in an honorable way, and will become my bride whenever it may please me to carry her off from her old thief of a father.'
"'But the Jew has all the gold,' said Don Philip, despondingly.
"'Not so,' replied Bobadil. 'My angel has a fortune of her own locked up in a trunk, and I shall take good care to secure it in the first place.'
"His friend's countenance was lighted by a smile, but it passed away as he again spoke—
"'Our priests will never consent to your marriage with a Jewess.'
"'What an owl you are,' retorted Don Bobadil; 'Leonora shall pass for as good a Catholic as the Pope himself.'
"'My dear friend, you delight me!' exclaimed Don Philip, springing from his seat and embracing Bobadil; 'let us then make ourselves and our mistresses happy at once—this very night! You can go after Leonora while I seek Lisette.'
"Our hero found it necessary to take a drink of something after this proposition, and then responded:
"'Spoken like a Spaniard and a gentleman; I will go to the house of Miguel and bring the trunk of treasure from thence—that, you know, should be secured first. After bringing it hither I will go back after Leonora, and when next we meet I shall be a married man.'
"'Do so, Don Bobadil,' returned Philip, 'and I will, in like manner, gain the fortune and hand of Lisette. Let us hasten, my friend, and we shall be independently wealthy before morning.'
"Together they drank the remainder of the wine, and having given certain orders to Dame Margy, left the house, each taking a different route.
"It rained in torrents, when my hero wrapped his long cloak about him and set out. The tormenting drops ran the length of his nose and poured into his bosom, they crawled damply down his boots, they trickled grievously into his ears, they clung to his long black hair, and soaked through his sombrero; yet did the brave Spaniard press onward, as a hero advances to the breastworks amid a storm of shot and shells. Love had cast its thickest blanket about his heart, and a flame burned glaringly there that nothing but matrimony and maravedis could quench. Arriving in front of his mistress's abode, my hero picked up a handful of sand, and threw it lightly against a window pane, such being the signal by which he was to make known his presence when Miguel was at home. Almost immediately a lattice was opened, and a woman's head, ornamented with a scarlet capde nuitwas thrust out.
"'Who's that?' demanded the duenna, snappishly.
"'It's only me,' responded Don Bobadil, in low tones.
"'And who'sme?' asked the amiable woman.
"'Don Bobadil Banco.'
"'Don Bobadil Banco had better go home, if he don't want to have his head broken with a flowerpot,' snarled the duenna.
"'Now, my dear Laura.'
"'Don't 'dear' me! Are you drunk?'
"'I must see Donna Leonora,' said Bobadil.
"'Youaredrunk!' screamed the lady.
"'No, I am not; but, pray, make less noise, my good Laura, or you will have the alguazils about myears. Tell your lady that I am here, and you shall have a purse of ducats.'
"'Oh! ah! I will,' replied the mercenary woman, retiring quickly from the window and again closing the lattice.
"The adventurous Spaniard stood in soak for half an hour, at the end of which Dame Laura, cautiously admitted him at the door, and he soon knelt before his mistress. Donna Leonora was a charming little brunette, with raven curls and sparkling black eyes full of mirth.
"'Sancta Maria! what is the matter, Don Bobadil?' she exclaimed, eyeing the kneeling personage with surprise.
"'Dearest Leonora, idol of my heart!' replied Bobadil, clasping her waist, 'here on my knees let me implore you to become mine forever, and make me happier than the angels. Recent events, which I cannot explain at present, have rendered it necessary for me to thus intrude upon you at an unseasonable hour, and implore that your promise to become my bride may be at once fulfilled.'
"'But this is so sudden,' murmured the lady.
"'Pardon my haste, dear Leonora,' answered Don Bobadil. 'I know how exquisitely sensitive your nature is; but heaven destined us for each other, and when I leave you, I leave a part of myself.'
"'The gentleman speaks wisely,' interrupted the duenna. 'Your father has smoked his opium and will sleep until after meridian to-morrow. Go with Don Bobadil, Senora, and Miguel shall learn all from me when he awakes.'
"Leonora resisted for awhile; but her objections were speedily overcome, and she at length yielded to the combined entreaties of her lover, and subtle reasoning of her mercenary duenna. Such is love.
"'Here is a load for you, Senor,' said the latter personage, pointing to a chest studded with brass nails that stood near. 'Carry it off as quickly as possible, and return for your mistress when you have placed her fortune in a safe place.'
"Our hero at once acceded to plans so consonant with his own, and after embracing the Senorita, he seized the chest and hastened with it to his lodgings. It was a heavy load for one man, and the rain still poured furiously down; but the lover danced on like a feather before the vagrant zephyrs of spring, and soon deposited his precious freight in the room where he had lately held converse with Don Philip. This done, he hastened back to the house of Don Miguel, impatient to secure his fair bride; but Dame Laura met him at the door, with her fingers pressed upon her lips, and her form barring his further progress.
"'Hist! not a word!' she whispered cautiously. 'The Jew was aroused by the noise you made descending the stairs, and would not be satisfied until he had searched the house with a candle in one hand and a drawn sword in the other. He is quiet now, and if not again disturbed, will soon sleep again. Return to your lodgings, and when Miguel slumbers, I will hasten thither with my lady. Not a word! Go!'
"Conquering his impatience, Don Bobadil thrust a purse of slim proportions into the bony hand of hisconfidante, and turned into the street without breathing a syllable.
"As he ascended the stairs to his own room, the sound of voices fell upon his ear, and fearing for the safety of his treasure, he rushed headlong into the apartment with his sword drawn and a determination to slaughter the intruders. His anger was soon turned to pleasure, when he beheld Don Philip seated beside a very pretty female, whose hands he held in his own, and whose ringletted head rested upon his shoulder, with an air of familiarity that would have been the death of any old maid, whose sight could have been blighted by such a scene. He also noticed a chest somewhat smaller than the one he had obtained by right of seizure, standing near the window, and felt doubly happy in the conviction that his friend had brought home something more substantial than a wife.
"'Lisette, this is my friend, Don Bobadil Banco,' said Don Philip, leading the lady forward and presenting her. 'This, Don Bobadil, is my wife, and though she has no proud title, I shall be proud to present her to my family as one worthy of a gentleman's affection.'
"'My dear Philip, allow me to congratulate you on the possession of a lady, who, if her virtue equals her beauty, must indeed be an angel,' and our hero bowed with his accustomed courtesy to the blushing Senorita.
"'But where is the mistress, of whom you boasted a short time since?' asked Philip, glancing towards the door, as though expecting to behold a fourth person.'I supposed that I should find her here with a priest.'
"'The Jew took me for a thief, and woke up, or Donna Leonora would be here now. But her duenna has promised to bring her hither soon and we must have patience.'
"'Then take a seat, Don Bobadil, and I will relate the manner in which I became possessed of Lisette, for I know you are dying to hear it, though your pride hides your curiosity. While we were at Salamanca, I became acquainted with a poor orphan girl, who won my heart by her beauty and virtuous conduct. Other students saw and admired her; but their admiration was not such as honor sanctioned, and the girl left the place, preferring a strange place with quiet, to a home in which she was constantly subject to insult and annoyance. At the time I knew not the reasons for her sudden departure, and it filled me with sorrow. I hid my feelings from you, however, fearing that your disposition for mirth might lead you to make a butt of me. I came hither with you, and beheld many fair ladies, but to none did my heart incline, and the fair orphan of Salamanca remained mistress of my thoughts. About a week after our arrival in Madrid, you went to a ball one evening, leaving me to comfort Dame Margy until you came back. Not much liking such company, I strolled forth to the grand plazza and entered a theatre with the crowd. Numerous familiar faces appeared in various parts of the building, and while I went about to greet my friends, the play was commenced. I believe I should not have looked upon the stage at all, so busily was I engaged, had not thetones of a voice made me start back in amazement, and look wildly toward the performers. Near the centre of the stage, clad in the costume of herrole, and bowing in a flowery train, was a form and face that sent the blood hurtling through my veins like molten lead. After standing like one petrified for some moments, I suddenly quitted the boxes, and gained admittance behind the scenes. I had not been mistaken; the orphan of Salamanca and the actress of Madrid were one. I need not tell an ardent lover like yourself the effect of such a meeting; it is sufficient to say, that Lisette bade farewell to the stage, whither necessity had forced her, and took from thence a liberal compensation. Such is the history of my amour, Don Bobadil; and, as we each have caskets at hand, I propose that we become acquainted with their contents.'
"'Donna Leonora owns the one I brought hither, and it may displease her should I open it,' answered our hero.
"'Not at all, my friend; she is to be your wife before morning, and what belongs to your wife belongs equally to you.'
"'Oh! very well,' responded Bobadil.
"'I will display the riches of Lisette first to encourage you, and you may follow with the dowry of Senora Leonora,' said Don Philip, taking off the lid of the second chest.
"Our hero looked on in surprise, as his friend displayed its contents, and his pride made him tremble, lest his own portion should prove less costly. There were gorgeous robes, satin slippers, magnificent ornamentsof gold, sparkling brilliants, bracelets, necklaces, and brooches, set with rubies, emeralds, and diamonds, a tiara sparkling like a constellation of midnight stars, and an immense leather bag filled with valuable coins.
"'Why, Don Philip, you have all the riches of Indus here!' exclaimed Don Bobadil, opening wide his eyes in astonishment.
"'So much for your discrimination, Bobadil,' returned Philip. 'These robes belong to an actress' wardrobe, and are more gaudy than valuable. These rubies, emeralds, and diamonds are pieces of colored and crystal glass, intended to dazzle unsophisticated eyes, but nearly worthless to the jeweler; the gold setting is worth its weight in brass, and these coins alone are genuine. But let us now look upon your dowry, my friend, when, I doubt not, that we shall be made to wink by the glitter of pure gems and true metal.'
"As Don Bobadil listened to the explanations of his friend, his eyes glistened, and at the conclusion he walked proudly towards his chest, with a feeling of conscious superiority.
"'I will not boast,' he said, haughtily; 'but Jews are not overfond of tinsel, and my mistress's robes have not a value peculiar to the dimly-lighted stage,' so saying, he threw back the cover of his treasure casket.
"A shade of disappointment rested upon his features at the first view, but he disdained to give it utterance, and carelessly threw aside a robe of cheap material, trimmed with imitation ermine. But, alas, the nextwas a garment of scarlet, with bells attached to the skirt; then one of green, with faded tinsel ornaments; another of white flannel, with tarnished silver lace stars about the waist.
"During this exhibition, Lisette was apparently endeavoring to swallow her handkerchief, while Don Philip looked anxiously toward the ceiling, as though its intricate pattern had suddenly become an object of absorbing interest.
"Sternly did Don Bobadil delve into his mine of female apparel, expecting soon to strike a vein of monstrous diamonds with a mosaic of gold. He reaches it at last! Yes, there it is! Mark his glance of pride and exultation as he says:
"'Don Philip, will you assist me? The Jew's ducats are very heavy, and the bag containing them rather larger than a Senora's night-cap.'
"Don Philip did as he was desired, when suddenly our hero dropped his end of the bag, with a cry more piercing than that of an enraged hyena. Oh shades ofMater Money!Por vida del diablo!The bagmoved, there came a cry, and there appeared in the opening of its leather coveringthe head of a baby!
"'Oh, Holy Virgin! Thunder and lightning! Fire! Murder! I'm lost, tormented, tortured, cheated! Cruel Leonora! Infamous woman! d—d old duenna!' roared the unhappy Bobadil, stamping and steaming like an infuriated tea-pot.
"'Be calm, my dear friend, I pray you be calm,' cried Don Philip, vainly endeavoring to conquer his mirth, while Lisette rolled on the floor in a paroxysm of laughter.
"'Don't tell me to be calm!' bellowed Bobadil. 'Look there! My horror, detestation, abhorrence—a baby!Hear it squeal! I'll strangle the cursed little fiend! Oh, oh, oh!—diablo!'
"'You will arouse the neighborhood.'
"'What do I care! I'm betrayed, swindled, ruined, seduced! Stab me, shoot me, make a bloody corpse of me. Kill that baby, or I'll make your wife an orphan!'
"'What's all this?' asked Dame Margy, darting into the apartment and holding up her hands in wild astonishment.
"'Don't you hear it yell?' howled Bobadil, tearing out his hair by handfulls. 'It's a baby!'
"Dame Margy came very near fainting, and Lisette was obliged to go to her assistance, while Don Philip approached his enraged friend and succeeded in soothing him.
"'Act like a man,' he said, 'and take measures to punish the perpetrator of the infamous outrage. The baby is a poor innocent little thing, and Lisette will attend to it. Lisette, look after the baby! Now, Don Bobadil, repress your emotions.'
"The retired actress obeyed her intended husband with alacrity, assisted by Dame Margy, who was fully revived, and our hero burst into tears.
"'Oh, Philip!' he blubbered, 'miserable wretch, that I am, what shall I do? That infamous woman will be here in a moment, and I know not how to act. Oh! curse that baby!'
"'Woman's wit shall aid you,' said the hitherto silent Lisette, after whispering to Dame Margy, who immediatelyleft the apartment. 'Don Bobadil, you must assume the attire of your housekeeper, and leave Philip and me to account for your supposed absence, when Donna Leonora arrives.'
"As she finished speaking, the old housekeeper returned with a promiscuous assortment of female garments, and before our hero had time to resist, he presented the appearance of a stout old lady.
'Don't speak a word,' said Don Philip, placing an immense bonnet and veil upon his head, 'you must pass for Dame Margy, and leave me to settle with your cruel mistress.'
"Though not quite satisfied with this arrangement, Don Bobadil accepted in silence, especially as the sound of approaching footsteps fell upon his ear, as they tumbled him to a distant seat.
"Dame Margy fled through an opposite door just as two figures, deeply veiled, entered the apartment.
"'Holy Virgin! who has rifled my chest? And where is Don Bobadil?' exclaimed Leonora, clasping her hands.
"'Lady,' said Don Philip, advancing to meet her with much dignity, 'as the friend of Don Bobadil Banco, it is my duty to inform you that he has discoveredALL, and left Madrid forever.'
"'All!' exclaimed the lady and duenna in a breath.
"'Yes, senora, my friend hates babies!'
"Like two agitated fawns, Leonora and her attendant dropped their veils and sprang to the side of the chest.
"'Why!—what—who has done this?' exclaimed the fair Jewess, quivering like an aspen leaf.
"'You, lady, can best answer that question.'
"'It is false! My whole fortune was in that chest! I am cheated, deceived, ruined!'
"'Peace! infamous woman!' thundered Don Bobadil, no longer able to restrain his rage, and darting toward her. But he stepped upon his skirts, and pitched headlong to the floor.
"'Do I dream?' murmured Leonora in affright.
"'You do not,' screamed our hero, tucking his petticoats under his arms, and tearing off the veil that concealed his face. 'Behold! false one! behold! Don Bobadil Banco!'
"'Dear Bobadil, you would not kill me?'
"'No, Leonora, you shall live to repent of this. Take that wretched baby to its father, or I will strangle it before your eyes.'
"'By the God we all worship, I swear I never saw the child before!' exclaimed Leonora, looking solemnly upward.
"Her air of truthfulness carried conviction with it, and Bobadil stood like one thunderstruck; but soon a new expression fell upon his countenance, and he turned gravely to the duenna.
"'Perhapsyouown the—the baby!'
"'You're a nasty dirty beast!' retorted the chaste creature, rushing from the room like a ricochetting shot.
"'I can answer for the innocence of Laura,' said Leonora, calmly.
"Rebuked by her dignified manner, our hero mentallyexonerated her from all blame; yet there was the baby, screaming lustily, and no other valuables were found in the chest.
"'Forgive me, if I have wronged you,' he said, penitently, 'I judged too quickly; but then I took those gaudy robes from yonder chest, and—who owns the baby?'
"'I see how it is,' said Donna Leonora composedly, turning toward the door, 'you have adopted this plan to rob me of the little fortune I possessed. I would willingly incur a much greater loss to escape from such a monster. Keep my gold, Don Bobadil, and say you become a better man.'
"Our hero stood motionless, involved in a maze of doubts and fears; and the lady was about departing, when Lisette suddenly sprang forward, and prevented her.
"'Stop, lady!' she exclaimed, 'the trick has gone far enough—I own the baby!'
"'Lisette speaks truly, andI am the baby's father!' said Don Philip, grasping the hand of our perplexed hero.
"'Villain!' exclaimed Bobadil, feeling for his sword.
"'Wretch!' screamed Leonora, feeling for her handkerchief.
"'I humbly crave your mercy, until you have heard my story,' replied Don Philip, coolly placing his arm about the waist of his Lisette. 'This lady,' he continued, 'is mywife, and has been such for two years. I have kept my secret thus rigidly, that it should not reach the ears of my family until I had arrivedat man's estate; but when you determined to take a wife I resolved to make you my confidant. While you were at the house of Miguel to-night, I brought my wife andbabyhither, wishing to surprise you at your return. I found your chest filled with the riches I afterwards showed you as the property of an actress, and prompted by a spirit of mirth, I exchanged its contents for those of our own. Knowing your hostility to babies, I placed the youngBobadilin your casket also, and had you taken notice of small things, you would have observed that I left the lid partly open. It's only a reminiscence of college trickery, my dear Bobadil, and if it has given offence, behold the culprit at your feet.'
"The friendly smile of his friend and the imploring glance of Lisette, completely overcame our hero's resentment, and he extended his hand in all gentleness; then turning quickly to the silent, though smiling Leonora, he fell at her feet, exclaiming:
"'Dear lady, we are both victims of our friend's frolic, and there should be no anger between us. I do dislike babies so much, that the sight of one makes me desperate; but now that all is explained, I hope you will forgive me.'
"The lady smiled so encouragingly upon him, that he soon stood face to face—I mean lips to lips—with her.
"'Let us seek a priest,' said Don Philip, with solemnity.
"How this proposition was received, may be assumed from the fact that Dame Margy soon locked up an empty house. How Miguel the Jew conductedwhen he awoke next morning; how the families of our friends received the news of their scions' marriages, and how the young gentlemen felt themselves, are matters not explained by history; but it is certain that Don Bobadil and Don Philip were never again in want of ducats, and it is also certain that if any one wished to see an angry man, he could be gratified by eyeing the youngest Banco in a suspicious manner, and asking in mysterious tones—'Who owns the Baby?'"