Trifles for the Christmas Holidays Part 4

There were two visitors here an hour ago,--a lady and a gentleman.

Whatever their lack of ostentation, there was an air of distinction about both that would strike the most casual observer.

The cabriolet was plain, but the horses showed the purest blood, and the harness and equipments a neatness one would not see in a day's ride. The gentleman was tall and stately, with a well-shaped aquiline nose, and a mustache and imperial pointed _a la militaire_; and the lady was pet.i.te and graceful, with a face of rare loveliness. The features of both told plainly of a great trial bravely endured. The lady entered alone. Her carriage and demeanor possessed all that quiet elegance which is only met with in the society of the great; but it was with no courtly speech she addressed the mistress of this quiet home. To twine her arms lovingly around that dear form, to draw it close to her bosom, to pour out, in a voice broken with tears, a burst of grat.i.tude, was the mission. In moments when hearts are wrung, we do not practice our grand politeness. A n.o.ble life had been saved, a terrible calamity averted.

The polished manner of the _salon_ was dropped. A _wife_ spoke, a _woman_ listened. The visit was already a long one when Jean Palliot took charge of the equipage, and, on leaving, it was into _his_ hand the gentleman thrust a roulette of Napoleons.

"Sir," cried the indignant coachman, "a soldier of the Grand Army is not a beggar."

"It is not the gold, but the portraits of his commander I give the soldier of the Grand Army."

"_Mon Dieu!_" exclaimed the now affrighted veteran, "it is Napoleon!--_Vive l'Empereur!_"

Of the history of that attempt on the life of Napoleon, the world is fully informed. That, thanks to a fortunate warning, the Imperial coach was lined with boiler-iron, is well known. That warning, by direction of her husband, was written by Madame Althie Pontalba, and delivered by me.

That the destructive missiles were manufactured in Birmingham, England, our Minister Plenipotentiary has good cause to remember; but that they were smuggled into Paris in the guise of egg-plants, and deposited in the gra.s.s-plot in rear of house No. 30 of that now memorable street, I believe is still a mystery.

That Count Felice Orsini (the man executed) was concealed for weeks, is on record at the Prefecture; but that he a.s.sumed the position of a servant, and the name of Marcel, is not.

As for me, I think a great deal, and say nothing; but if the young Pontalba, who now studies type-setting with the Prince Imperial, was not the baby whose clothes I once saw examined at a _cafe_ there is no truth in these "Leaves of an Idler."

MR. b.u.t.tERBY RECORDS HIS CASE.[A]

J. Moses b.u.t.terby, aged 40 years; a licensed broker; nativity, American; temperament, sanguine; habit, slightly obese; const.i.tution, robust.

History of the case as related by himself.

I don't see how I ever came to _be_ married. It was certainly the last thing my friends expected of me, and it was the last thing I ever expected of myself; but that I am married, Mrs. J. Moses b.u.t.terby, and Master Alphonso Moses b.u.t.terby, are both here to testify.

What so aristocratic a family found in me to admire is as much a secret now as then. I don't think it was intellect; for I am afraid that when Nature designed me the "shining" element was left out. Somehow, at school, the composition sent to the village journal was never mine; the declamation repeated at every fresh arrival of directors was always another's; and if, by any chance, a visitor asked to hear a recitation, under no circ.u.mstances was I ever invited to show off. My modest part in society was not crowned with greater success. Ma (dear heart!) objected to dancing, and I never learned; I didn't go to picnics, for I don't know how to drive; I tried smoking, and it made me sick; if I drank wine, I was sure to go to sleep: in fact, none of the amus.e.m.e.nts of other young men ever amused me; and the result was, the money they spent, I saved.

Envious people have hinted at this as the attraction which first caught the respected mother of my Malinda Jane and the respected mother-in-law of myself; but ideas so unbecoming I repel with proper scorn.

I do not think myself more stupid than the average of mankind; but, somehow, while they walked through the middle of the streets, I sought the narrow alleys; and while others aspired to noise and distinction, I found retirement and Malinda Jane. (It _was_ in an alley I first met Mrs. J. Moses b.u.t.terby--though this in no way concerns the present narrative.)

Malinda Jane (I trust I am not violating any matrimonial law in thus familiarly speaking of my respected helpmeet)--Malinda Jane, from the first time I beheld her, up to the present period of a long, and I may say intimate, acquaintance, appears to me a paragon of all the modest and retiring virtues. If among her many attractions she is possessed of a distinguishing trait, it lies in the power of her eyes. So much language do their depths contain, that to me, at least, any other is in a great measure a superfluity. I should be afraid to count up the consecutive hours we have spent in this silent converse, reading each other's hearts, as some pleasant poet has styled it, "through the windows of the soul." I would not have you suppose them almond-shaped or piercing. No! Malinda Jane's eyes are round. It was their gentle blue that enchanted me; and there I found the congeniality that cheered my drooping spirit.

Looking back now upon our courtship, I am inclined to think it must have been uninteresting to a third party; but there is no denying the fact that to us it was most soothing, and well calculated to develop our mutual affection.

I have no accurate recollection of the event vulgarly called "popping."

Fortunately, I congratulate myself on escaping that breach of decorum.

If you join my friends in asking "how it came about," I reply, "Naturally." The morning Malinda Jane's mother asked me if I had decided upon October the 24th or November the 24th, I unhesitatingly answered, "November the 24th, if you please;" and the whole affair was accomplished.

I have said before, Malinda Jane is not of a demonstrative disposition, but thinks (if I may strain a point) ponderously. I have never known her to manifest any will in opposition to my own; and, since I come to think of it, I do not remember her ever manifesting a will in opposition to any one else. In this general term I of course include Master Moses Alphonso b.u.t.terby and my most highly respected mother-in-law. Such a family, according to all rule precedent, should be superlatively happy; but there seems to be a disturbing element in all families, and mine, alas! proved no exception. It came about thus.

Among the few parting words of my deceased ma were, "Mosie" (she always called me Mosie), "never live with your mother-in-law." Treasuring the command, as I may say I treasured everything the dear old lady left, including the property, when finally the day _was_ fixed, I set about obeying it. On an occasion when Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk--the name of my respected mother-in-law--had described our imaginary bower, and her imaginary apartment adjoining, until she had worked herself into a fever of imaginary happiness, I mildly communicated the behest of my departed parent.

The scene which followed I can only characterize as indescribably touching. The look of blank despair on the face of Malinda Jane, and the tears of rage and mortification that suffused the aristocratic nose of her ma, I frankly confess, went to the bottom of my heart. It was many months before I ceased to regret this rude banishment of their hopes; but, looking upon it from my present stand-point, I am compelled to admit my dear dead ma was right.

The only accident worthy of remark that happened to Malinda Jane on our wedding-day was a fright. I have reason to congratulate myself at its occurring _on_ that day, instead of a few weeks subsequent. The consequences in the latter event, it is needless to say to married people, might have been serious.

Pa.s.sing out of the church-door, we were confronted by a drunken cobbler, who, in a wild and insane manner, proposed "three cheers for Jinny." The a.s.sembled crowd of dilapidated urchins hanging around the steps proceeded to give them with a vim faintly suggestive of ridicule. The single glance I obtained of the discourteous offender gave me an idea of chimneys. His face was smoky, his clothes were fleecy, and his general appearance was decidedly sooty throughout. A shock head, and more shocky eyebrows, bore a strange resemblance to the patent chimney-sweep; while his clothes seemed rich in past memories of the profession. I had before caught sight of this individual, in a tumble-down, rickety shop near the residence of Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk. I had, in fact, seen her on more than one occasion bestowing charity upon him in the form of broken victuals; but the recollection failed entirely to account for the effect of his cheers for "Jinny" upon the too tender nerves of my dear wife and her distinguished mother. I attributed the emotion to the trying nature of the ceremony we had just pa.s.sed through. Reflecting that people do not get married every day, and appalled at the terrible conclusions with which the mind would distract itself by pondering so alarming a topic, I shudderingly abandoned it, and a.s.sisted Malinda Jane and her ma, in a fainting condition, to the carriage.

It is needless to say that the cobbler was at once given in charge to a policeman. The next morning, in consideration of a handsome fee, he moved away. I accomplished this out of regard to the feelings of Mrs.

Lawk; but, I must confess, I never regretted anything more.

The commencement of married life (as many married men will bear me out) is even more consoling than the happiest days of courtship. The smell of varnish on new furniture is as delightfully novel as the odor of the orange-blossoms; the brightness of the new carpets and the crispness of the new curtains both mark an era,--even if the stove _is_ obstinate about drawing or a man _is_ called out of bed to put up the coffee-mill.

There was Malinda Jane's night-robe hanging on one side of the bed, and there was my night-robe on the other. My clothes were in the upper drawer of the bureau, hers were in the lower--in such delightful and loving proximity that I own to feeling a new man; I gloried in having some one dependent on me: in short, I was happy.

I will not deny that there was some trouble about servants (I think Malinda Jane had seven the first ten days). True, the meals were not models of regularity; the chicken sometimes came on in too natural a state,--blue and pulpy,--and the beefsteak betrayed a volcanic appearance, as though reduced to lava by an irruption of gravy. I remember one woman stole a keg of b.u.t.ter, and another went off with half a dozen silver spoons. The former, Malinda Jane ascribed to the cat; the latter, to a defective memory; but, then, Malinda Jane never learned housekeeping (I don't see why she should, poor dear!), and trifles like these failed to mar _our_ household peace.

I would mention the conduct of Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk as being, for nearly a year, really saintly. Even the rare intervals at which she visited were marked by a manner the reverse of familiar. Almost every evening she would stand on the opposite side of the street, gazing wistfully at us as we sat in the window; but no persuasion induced her to pay a formal visit more than once a fortnight.

With this striking evidence of my wisdom before me, I grew worldly. I think that during that short year I possessed a better opinion of myself and my capacity than ever before or since.

Worse than this, I grew pharisaical. I ventured to pity my less fortunate neighbors, bound hand and foot to the slavery of mothers-in-law. I attempted to joke them, and poke them severely in the ribs with my knuckles, when the magic name was mentioned. So often did I congratulate myself on the shrewd stroke of genius displayed, that I fear even her respectability became sadly impaired in my mind, and depreciated to such an extent that I was gradually led to think of her irreverently as an "old gal."

"Too much for you, old gal," got to be an exclamation so wonderfully consoling that, it crept into my sleep, and in those halcyon days I often waked up by the side of Malinda Jane, muttering the words, "Too much for you, old gal." Waked up, I think I said. Ah! would I had never waked up, particularly on the dismal clouds which for a season darkened my domestic sunshine!

Scarce half a twelvemonth elapsed, ere the retiring disposition of Malinda Jane seemed to shrink into even greater seclusion. I frequently found her powerful mind wandering, and her eyes fixed on vacancy. In our evening walks, which invariably preceded retiring for the night, she leaned heavily on my arm.

Although the appearance of our daily repasts did not seem to justify it, the cash demands for market-bills suddenly became enormous; and, when I expostulated, my reasonable objections only produced tears. An apparently needless grief had crept into our quiet home, and a lack of confidence that pained me. For many weeks I helplessly pondered the unaccountable mystery.

At last (oh that it had taken any shape but that!) the enigma developed itself. Returning home one day, I had straightened my collar and smoothed my hair before opening the door (feeling a proper pride in my personal appearance, these preparations are usually a preliminary step), when suddenly, just as the portal moved on its hinges, my sense of smell was saluted with the odorous fumes of gin. From the first suffocating whiff of this aromatic cordial do I date the commencement of my grief.

Malinda Jane, I knew, never indulged in as much as a sip of Cologne: so, convinced that the breach of discipline was the guilty act of a servant, with all the offended dignity I could embody in my deportment, I went straight to the chamber of my wife.

Without being deficient in moral courage, I am not a boisterous man. I do not boast of an eye like Mars, to threaten and command, or glory in producing a shudder with the creaking of my shoes. I mention this to show that my manner, though rebuking, was not intended to be severe. To awe by my authority, and soothe by my condescension, was the design; but even in this limited effort I am conscious of a lamentable failure.

Seated upon the floor, within an airy castle of dry-goods, whose battlements of flannel and linen cambric frowningly encircled her, was Malinda Jane. Before it, like an investing army, with colors flying, and a face radiant with defiant triumph, was Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk.

She had complacently opened the siege with the mixture of a hot gin-toddy. My appearance upon this warlike scene was the signal for a salute both loud and watery (in short, tearful), entered into with a mutual heartiness by besieger and besieged. It was, moreover, rendered impressive by a waving spoon, which Mrs. Mountchessington Lawk moved solemnly backward and forward in a warning, funereal manner, as though protesting against some appalling fate. That she was in possession of my apartment, if not my house, I instinctively realized. She sat bolt upright, firm and strong as a Hindoo idol on its altar; a nebulous glare invested her head with a halo, through which bristling hair-pins stuck out in all directions, like lightning-rods with fitfully luminous points. The crystal wall of spectacles that bridged her nose seemed graven with the cabalistic words, "I've got you." A feeling of conscious guilt, of what an enfeebled mind failed to grasp, succ.u.mbed to the shock.

From amid the joint chorus of sobs and tears which burst forth with the wail of a Scottish slogan or an Indian death-song, I heard--

"Oh, my poor darling! Oh, my poor dear angel! Oh, Mr. b.u.t.terby, how _could_ you?"

"Madam," I inquired, in amazement, "how could I what?"

It may be well to state the endearing epithet was applied to Malinda Jane.

"Oh, dear! dear! and all this time she has been scrimping and saving, I was unconscious as a child unborn. Cruel, _cruel_ man!"

Mrs. Lawk, burying her hand in the depths of her pocket, drew forth an attenuated handkerchief, and carefully wiped her eyes.