Venus in Boston Part 6

The Corporal's case again looked desperate, when Pat left the "Pig Pen,"

for he was then without a protector from the vengeance of Jew Mike. But the Jew did not appear inclined to a.s.sail the old man personally, though his ferocious eyes still gleamed with rage. Standing apart, he held a whispered conversation with Sow Nance, during which the Corporal could occasionally overhear the words--'spy,' 'danger,' 'police,' 'murder,'

and the like. At last they seemed to arrive at some definite conclusion; for the Jew came forward, and said--

"Old fellow, whoever you are, you have heard too much of our private discourse, for our safety.--We must confine you, until such time as you may succeed in convincing us that you meant no foul play in thus intruding into our secret rendezvous."

The Corporal began to speak, but the Jew fiercely commanded him to be silent. Meanwhile, Sow Nance had procured a rope, and ere the old man was aware of her intention, she had seized and pinioned his arms with great dexterity.

"Into the _Black Hole_ with him!" shouted the Jew. The poor Corporal was hurried from the room, through a low, narrow door, along a dark, winding pa.s.sage, and soon found himself in a s.p.a.cious cellar, crowded with negroes, who were drinking "blue ruin" and smoking vile cigars. This resort of the "colored society" was a place of the most degraded and vicious kind, frequented by the lowest of the black population of Ann street. At that period, respectable public houses for the exclusive accommodation of the colored aristocracy, were very rare; and it is only recently that the enterprise and public spirit of Mr. William E. Ambush has established a _recherche_ and elegant Saloon in Belknap street, bearing the poetical cognomen of "_The Gazelle_." We allude to this latter place for the purpose of showing that however degraded may be the colored denizens of Ann street, and however low their resorts, there are nevertheless those of the same complexion who are elevated in their notions of propriety, and strictly exclusive in their a.s.sociations.

"Hallo, here--where's Pete York?" demanded the Jew, looking around upon the sable a.s.sembly with an air of authority.

A small, very black and hideous looking negro stepped forward in answer to the name, with a grin that would not have disgraced the very devil himself.

"Dat's me, master," said he. (It may be as well to remark here, that this negro was soon afterwards sentenced to be hung for an atrocious murder, in Ann street. His sentence was, however, commuted by the Governor to imprisonment for life. He is now comfortably located in the Charlestown State Prison.)

"Well, then, you black scorpion, I wish you to take charge of this old fellow, and let him not escape, as you value your life. Keep him here safely for a day or two, and I'll reward you well for your trouble.

Sooner than let him escape, _kill him_--do you hear?"

The negro _did_ hear, and perfectly comprehended, also. He replied not in words, but in expressive pantomime. Drawing a knife from his belt, he pa.s.sed his finger approvingly along its glittering edge--then he drew it lightly across his own throat, in the immediate vicinity of his windpipe; by which actions he meant to intimate that should the old gentleman, with whose guardianship he had the honor to be entrusted, manifest the least inclination to "give him the slip," he, Mr. Peter York, would, in the most scientific manner, merely cut his throat from ear to ear, as a particular token of his warm personal regard. Jew Mike appeared perfectly satisfied with the a.s.surance thus eloquently conveyed, and, accompanied by Sow Nance, left the cellar, leaving the Corporal to the tender mercies of as desperate a band of villains and cut-throats as ever prowled about in the dark alleys and underground dens of Ann street.

"Now, my good fellow," said the old gentleman, addressing the negro whose prisoner he now was--"you had better instantly unbind me, and suffer me to take my departure from this infernal trap. Give me my liberty, and I will pay you ten times the sum that your Jew friend can afford to give you for detaining me here. What say you?"

"Oh, you shut up!" responded Pete York--"you s'pose I'm going to b'lieve any such gas as dat? You look like paying more money than Jew Mike, and not a decent coat on your back! Hush up your mouf, or you'll get this knife a-twixt your ribs in less than no time."

The black ruffian, in order to convince his prisoner that he meant what he said, pressed the sharp point of his knife so closely to the Corporal's breast, that it penetrated the skin. Mr. York, having thus practically admonished his victim to preserve silence, (which the Corporal thought it best to do, under the circ.u.mstances,) called to another negro, who was indulging in deep potations at the bar, in company with his "ladye love," a wench whose personal attractions consisted of a knotty head, flat nose, and mouth of immoderate dimensions--and that she _was_ attractive to her lover, was afterwards manifested by the fact that in a fit of jealousy he murdered a rival in her affections; for which amus.e.m.e.nt he was hung in the yard of the Leverett street jail on the 25th day of May, 1849, in the presence of a very jovial party, who were highly delighted with the exhibition.

"Wash Goode," cried Mr. Peter York, addressing that gentleman with a familiar abbreviation of his patriotic Christian name--"look yeah, a moment, will you n.i.g.g.e.r?"

Mr. Washington Goode crossed the cellar, and desired to know in what way he could be serviceable to his particular friend and boon companion, Mr.

Peter York. The latter gentleman explained himself in a few words.

"Jew Mike has put this old white man under my charge," said he, "for a few days, and I don't know where the h----l to keep him. What shall I do with the old son of a----?"

"Why, put him in de coal-hole, to be sure," replied the other, with a boisterous laugh at his own ingenious suggestion.

Mr. York signified his approval of this plan, and dragging the poor Corporal into the dark pa.s.sage which he had traversed in going to the cellar, he seized a large iron ring, opened a trap door, and violently pushed his victim into the dark and yawning chasm. Then he shut down the trap door, securely fastened it and departed.

The unfortunate Corporal fell a distance of about eight feet, and landed upon a soft, damp bed of earth, with but little personal injury. It will be recollected that his arms had been pinioned by Sow Nance; but, by a desperate effort, the old man succeeded in freeing himself from his bonds. He then essayed to examine and explore the dismal pit into which he had been thrown--which, in the intense darkness that prevailed, was a task of no little danger. However, he cautiously began to grope about, and soon became satisfied that the place was of considerable extent.

It will readily be inferred that our friend Corporal Grimsby was a man of dauntless courage; but, notwithstanding this, a thrill of terror nearly paralysed his limbs, when, while exploring the dungeon into which he had been thrown, his feet came in contact with an object, which, on examination, he discovered to be a human skeleton. The dread of being left to starve and perish in that dismal den, in such awful company, well nigh overcame both his philosophy and courage; and seating himself upon the damp earth, he abandoned himself to those feelings of despondency naturally engendered by his situation.

A man placed in such circ.u.mstances, in the midst of intense darkness, can "take no note of time." An hour of horror will sometimes seem an age, while a week of unalloyed pleasure will often glide by seemingly with the same rapidity as a few fleeting moments. It may have been one hour--it may have been ten--that the Corporal sat on the floor of his dungeon; when suddenly he was startled by the noise of the trap-door above his head being opened, and looking up, he beheld Sow Nance gazing down upon him, holding in her hand a lantern. After regarding him intently for a few moments, she thus addressed him:--

"Say, old chap, what'll yer give me if I help yer to 'scape from this hole? Yer don't look as if yer had any money--but if yer have, pay me well, and I'll get you out."

"Lower down a ladder or a rope, and raise me from this infernal trap, and you shall have this purse--see, 'tis full of gold!" replied the Corporal, at the same time producing from his pocket a purse which was evidently well lined with the "needful."

Nance uttered an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, and then disappeared; in a few minutes she returned and lowered a ladder into the pit; the Corporal rapidly ascended, and soon stood at the side of his deliverer, whom he could not avoid thanking warmly, as he gave her the purse. Bidding him follow her, she conducted him through the dark pa.s.sage; they entered the "Pig Pen," which was empty--pa.s.sed through the dance cellar without attracting any attention, and to the intense joy of the Corporal, he found himself standing in the open air, with the sun shining brightly, and no one to hinder his departure from those corrupt regions of sin and horror.

He distinctly remembered that Sow Nance had boasted of having enticed a young girl to the abode of Mr. Tickels in South street. Now this latter individual was known to him as a libertine and a villain; and inwardly praying that he might not be too late to rescue his fair young friend (for he doubted not it was f.a.n.n.y Aubrey,) from the power of such a monster, in season to preserve her virtue undefiled, he made the best of his way to South street. The reader knows how he rushed into the room just as Tickels was preparing to consummate the outrage, and how he laid the villain sprawling upon the floor, exclaiming--

"Broad-swords and bomb-sh.e.l.ls! I am just in time!"

We have now seen the manner in which Corporal Grimsby discovered the whereabouts of f.a.n.n.y Aubrey: and the mystery of his having arrived at a moment so very opportune, is explained.

CHAPTER V

_The Chevalier and the d.u.c.h.ess._

A period of six months elapsed, and it was now the month of June--voluptuous June, clad in the gorgeous livery of summer. A great change had taken place in the circ.u.mstances of several of the most prominent characters of our narrative. The grandfather of f.a.n.n.y--the blind old basket-maker--had been "gathered to his fathers," and was sleeping in a humble but honorable grave. The excellent old Corporal, having seen the remains of his aged friend consigned to its kindred dust, had procured a comfortable and delightful asylum for the two orphans in the family of a valued friend of his--an elderly gentleman whom we shall call Mr. Goldworthy; he was a retired merchant, possessing an ample fortune, and was a widower, having an only daughter, with whom he resided in a splendid mansion in Howard street. Miss Alice Goldworthy, (then in her eighteenth year,) was one of those rare creatures who seldom bless this grovelling earth with their bright presence. She was truly an admirable combination of excellent personal and mental qualities, and possessed in an eminent degree that beautiful art (so seldom attained) of making all who came within the sphere of her genial influence, _perfectly happy_. But her most amiable characteristic was her good heart, which prompted her to entirely overlook every consideration of self, in her desire to benefit others. We have now, in our mind's eye, the exquisite original from whom we imperfectly draw this beautiful character; her pure soul looks gently forth from the azure depths of her soft eyes; lovely in her smile, for it is the glad sunshine of a happy heart--but has that heart ne'er known affliction or grief? Ah, yes; the harsh world hath, in former times, bruised that gentle sanctuary of all womanly virtue, by its rude contact; but an o'er-ruling Providence would not suffer the blighting storms of life to crush the sweet flower that bent resignedly to the blast--for the angels in heaven are not more pure and holy than she. Peace be with her, now and forever! and should her eyes e'er encounter these humble lines, she will pardon their unknown author for having ventured to gild his pages with her beautiful character--for he has gazed upon her as upon a star, shipping with a serene and softened l.u.s.tre from the blue vault of heaven.

Her domestic accomplishments were not inferior to her social virtues. In the charming (because truthful) words of an unpretending but excellent poet--

"She had read Her father's well-filled library with profit, And could talk charmingly; then she could sing And play, too, pa.s.sably, and dance with spirit; Yet she was knowing in all needle-work, And shone in dairy and kitchen, too As in the parlor."

When f.a.n.n.y Aubrey was ushered into the presence of this amiable young lady, she started with surprise and pleasure--for she instantly recognized in her the kind young lady who had presented her with the gold coin on the memorable day when she was entrapped by Sow Nance into the house of Mr. Tickels. The recognition was mutual; Miss Alice instantly remembered the pretty fruit girl whose appearance had so much interested her; and warmly did she welcome both the young orphans, as future inmates of her family. f.a.n.n.y had never before lived in such a grand house, surrounded by every appliance of luxurious wealth; yet the unbounded kindness of Miss Alice and her worthy father soon placed her perfectly at her ease. Excellent teachers were provided for her and her brother Charles--and, under the fostering care of their generous patrons, they promised to become ornaments to the elevated sphere of society in which they were probably destined to move.

Time pa.s.sed on, and nothing occurred to interrupt the smooth current of f.a.n.n.y's existence, until it was deemed advisable to engage a person properly qualified to give her instructions on that indispensable fixture to a fashionable parlor--the piano-forte. A teacher of some reputed talent was employed for this purpose; he was a Mr. Price, of Charlestown--and has since rendered himself somewhat famous for his amours in the above city with a married lady whom we shall call Mrs.

Stout; he had for some time been giving her lessons on the piano--but the husband suspected that he was in the habit of imparting to her secrets more profound than those of music; he accordingly placed himself in a position to observe the operations of the parties--and soon detected them under circ.u.mstances of a very unequivocal character.

Rushing in, he severely castigated the gay Lothario, who, laboring under the great disadvantage of having his costume seriously disarranged, could only implore for mercy, while he a.s.sumed the abject posture so faithfully depicted by a talented artist, in the engraving which accompanies this chapter. Long previous to this humorous event, Mr.

Price was, as we have stated, engaged to instruct the pretty f.a.n.n.y Aubrey in the science and mystery of the n.o.ble instrument of which he was a well-known professor; but he soon began to indulge in such alarming familiarities with his fair pupil, that she acquainted her friends with his conduct, and the consequence was that Mr. Price received a very dishonorable dismissal from the house. Nature has been very miserly of her favors to this amorous music teacher: his countenance resembles that of an unwashed charcoal merchant, while his manners are utterly devoid of anything like gentlemanly refinement.--We are no great critic of the art of piano teaching; but we opine that it is rather unnecessary, in the first stages of the instruction, to clasp a lady's waist, or even to bring one's mouth in too close proximity to her rosy lips. It leads a sensitive female, or a fastidious gentleman to suspect the existence of a strong desire to enjoy a more familiar intimacy with a feminine pupil, and is apt to result in the teacher's ignominious ejection from the house and family which he attempts to dishonor.

With the exception of Mr. Price's insults, (from which she easily escaped by appealing to her kind patrons for protection,) f.a.n.n.y's life pa.s.sed on happily and quietly for some time; until one evening, on entering the parlor, she was startled by seeing no less a person than the Hon. Timothy Tickels, of South street, in familiar and friendly conversation with Mr. Goldworthy and Miss Alice. Mr. Tickels himself started and turned pale on beholding the maid whom he had attempted to dishonor under circ.u.mstances of such peculiar atrocity; however, he quickly recovered himself, and bowed low as Mr. Goldworthy presented her to him, saying--

"Mr. Tickels, this is Miss Aubrey, the young lady whom I spoke to you about, as having recently come to reside with me. f.a.n.n.y, this is an old and much esteemed friend of mine, who has expressed a great desire to see you, and whom, I am sure, you will love and respect for his piety and moral excellence!"

f.a.n.n.y coldly returned the salutations of the lecherous old hypocrite, whom she had such a good reason to hate and despise; it was evident to her that he had imposed on her worthy patrons, who really believed him to be a man of unblemished moral and religious character. During the evening, other company came in, and Tickels, having placed himself at f.a.n.n.y's side, whispered in her ear--

"My dear young lady, I see you recognize me; I also knew you instantly; for G.o.d's sake do not expose me! I am sincerely sorry for the wrong I meditated against you--I have since repented in sackcloth and ashes.

Promise me, I entreat you, that you will not whisper a word in regard to that infamous affair to Miss Alice or her father--or, indeed, to any one else; promise me, angel that you are--will you not?"

f.a.n.n.y reflected a few moments, during which she asked herself--"What is the right course for me to pursue in this matter? It will be very wrong for me to ruin this man by exposing him, if he has sincerely repented.

The Bible tells us to forgive our enemies--ought I not to forgive him?

Yes, I will; my heart and conscience tell me it will be right to do so.

Mr. Tickels," she added, aloud--"I forgive you for having tried to injure me, and, if you have truly repented, I will never say anything about the affair which you wish to have kept secret."

How artlessly and ingenuously she p.r.o.nounced those words of forgiveness, to a man who had tried to inflict upon her the greatest injury that can befall woman--a man who, even at that moment, in the black hypocrisy of his heart, gloated upon her youthful charms as the wolf doth feast his savage eyes upon the innocent lamb! Yes, and even at that moment, too, his polluted soul was hatching an infernal plan to get her again in his power, in a place where no aid was ever likely to wrest her from his grasp--a place established for purposes of l.u.s.t and outrage, to which he had alluded, (in his soliloquy after the rescue of f.a.n.n.y by the Corporal,) as the "Chambers of Love."

"Ah, my young paragon of virtue," said the old hypocrite to himself--"it is all very well for you to prate of forgiveness; but I'll have you in the 'Chambers' in less than a month--then see if you can again escape me! In that luxurious underground retreat, from whose mysterious recess no cry can reach the ears of prying mortals above--there, amid the sumptuousness of an Oriental palace, will I riot on those charms of thine, which now I dare but gaze upon! I'll make thee a slave to every extravagant caprice of my pa.s.sion; I'll become a G.o.d of pleasure, and thou, my beautiful blonde, shall be my ministering angel; for me shalt thou fill the glittering wine-cup with the sparkling gem of the grape; for me shalt thou sing at the banquet, and preside as Venus at the rosy couch of love."

Such were the thoughts that pa.s.sed through the mind of the disgusting old voluptuary, while his lying tongue gave utterance to words like the following:--

"A thousand thanks, my kind young lady, for that promise! Ah, if you only knew how beautiful you are, you would not so much blame me for my folly--my wickedness. But I'll say no more, as such language seems to pain you. I have, by long fasting and sincere prayer, succeeded in cleansing my heart from every impure desire--I can now view you with the holy feelings--the pa.s.sionless regard, of a father for his daughter. My dear child, forget not your promise to refrain from exposing an erring fellow mortal; and may Heaven bless you!"

Poor, unsuspecting f.a.n.n.y!--could she have seen the black heart of the smooth villain who addressed her with such pious humility, how well she might have exclaimed, with Byron--