CHAPTER XIII.
VICTOR CHEVILLERE TO B. RANDOLPH.
"New-York, 18--.
"DEAR FRIEND,
"At length we have arrived in this flourishing city, not, however, without having experienced many vicissitudes of weather, humour, and adventure, the two latter especially; how could we help it, when the Kentuckian formed so large a part of our little crew, by steamboat and stage? His animal spirits are worth a million.
"You cannot conceive any thing more agreeable to an emancipated and sombre student, than to get a comfortable high backed leather seat in one of these fine northern coaches, his cloak collar put up like a mask, and the rim of his cap drawn down to meet it, just leaving a peeping-hole sufficient to see and enjoy every thing worth enjoying, at the same time defying the gaze of intruding eyes.
"If there should fortunately happen to be such a reckless, yet generous spirit as Damon among the company, the student's happiness is complete, for you cannot imagine what a protector he is against intruders. In our American stage-coaches (and perhaps in all others) there are sometimes men, full of brandy eloquence, which is kept so constantly on the stretch by repeated libations; or boisterous politicians, with their mouths so full of the last importation of news from Washington, or of the contents of the morning papers, that a complaisant young man is almost compelled to make himself ridiculous, by getting into a political controversy.
"Damon took all that sort of work off our hands, in the most generous and chivalrous spirit imaginable. His eye was ever bright and ready; there was no sinking into dull student-like lethargy one moment, and flashing out into erratic folly the next; he was ready with lance in rest, to take a tilt against anybody's windmill; at home upon all subjects, being exactly in such a state of refinement as not to be ashamed to show his ignorance, and always eager to acquire information. Nor is his mind dull or unapt; he will rebut or ridicule an adversary with astonishing shrewdness. One of his peculiarities amused me much; he was evidently more excited in the stage-coaches than in the boats. He was never satisfied until he had let down the front glasses, so that he could see the horses; then he would talk fluently to his near neighbour, and keep his neck stretched all the while, so as to have all the horses in view, throwing out occasional digressive remarks as to their various powers, as thus, 'that's my little hearty, make a straight back to it;' and then turning to his antagonist he would continue his remarks, as if nothing had drawn off his attention.
"But I must not take up all your time with our comic adventures. When I get into that vein more completely, you shall have his exploits in the city. By-the-by, I suggested to Lamar that he should take that part of the correspondence off my hands, but he said, 'Randolph knows I'm not one of the writing sort, therefore you must write for us both; action,' said he, with a mock heroic flourish, 'is my forte.'
"We are comfortably situated at the City Hotel in Broadway. After we had selected our rooms, I sallied out into that gay and brilliant promenade, which intersects the city from north-east to south-west. You may there see, on a fine sunshiny afternoon, all the fashion and beauty of this great city; the neat, tasteful, Parisian costume, in close contrast with the more sober guise of London. There you may hear intermingled the language of the Gaul, the German, and the modern Roman. To the right and left you see the spires of various Christian temples; and smiling faces, and happy hearts, will greet you at every step.
"To a secluded college novice like myself, there is something new and moving in all this life and bustle; it irresistibly brings to my mind ideas of gay feats, tilts, tournaments, and brilliant fairs. Within the finished bow-windows are wealth and splendour, and brilliancy, which we poor southerns have not seen in our own native land; marble buildings, stores with granite columns, and the streets crowded with immense omnibuses (these are stages to transport persons from one part of the city to another); splendid private equipages, _republican_ liveries, and carts loaded with merchandise.
"Seeing some trees and a comfortable green plat a little farther up the street, I worked through the crowd of persons, and carts, and stages, and found myself in the midst of the far famed Park, and immediately in front of that proud edifice the City Hall. I ascended the marble platform, and surveyed the gay throng, as they moved on in one continued and dense current, with merry faces, miserable hearts, and empty heads and pockets; but to talk of these stale things, you know, in the present age, is all stuff and sheer nonsense. I therefore put my reflections in my portfolio to carry home with me, and proceeded to the house-keeper's room, as I had been directed, to obtain the good lady's pilotage, or that of some deputy, to the governor's room, which I readily found. There is nothing remarkable in the two rooms which contain the paintings, except that they command from the windows a fine view of the park and the surrounding streets. Yes, there are two venerable old stuffed chairs. The one in the north wing was used by Washington at his inauguration as first President of the United States, and the one in the east room by the elder Adams. There are portraits of George Washington, George Clinton, Alexander Hamilton, Commodore Bainbridge, Monroe, Jackson, Duane, Varick, Livingston, Clinton, Willet, Radcliff, Captain Hull, Governor Lewis, Macomb, Yates, Van Buren, Brown, Perry, La Fayette, Decatur, Tompkins, Colden, Allen, Paulding, Hone, Stuyvesant, Bolivar, Columbus, Monkton, Williams: some of these last are only half-length. Over the portrait of Washington is a blue flag rolled up, with the following inscription in golden letters:--'This standard was displayed at the inauguration of George Washington, first President of the United States, on the 30th day of April, 1789. And was presented to the Corporation of New-York by the Second Regt. of N. Y. State Artillery, Nov. 25th, 1821.'
"While I was standing at one of the front windows again looking over the moving masses of Broadway, I saw a lady approach on the eastern footway of the Park, with a hurried step, until she came nearly opposite to the Hall. Crossing Chatham, she turned abruptly down one of the narrow streets running at right angles to the eastern line of the Park. There was something in the figure and carriage of this lady which, unknown at first to my consciousness, quickened my pulsations; but when she approached to the nearest point in her course, I felt morally certain that it was none other than that mysterious charmer, who by her father's connivance, or rather management, slipped through my fingers at Baltimore, and that, too, without my even having asked her address in this city. The recollection of this latter circumstance prompted me instantly to seize my hat and hurry after her. Throwing the accustomed fee to my obliging pilotess, I walked with all possible haste to the corner of the street which I supposed she had taken. I found that a little crowd of ragged urchins had collected upon some occasion of their own, and asked the most intelligent-looking among them if he had seen a lady in black go down that street,--pointing down the hill from Tammany Hall; and, by way of reply, one of the most disgusting, discordant, and ill-timed peals of laughter that I ever heard burst upon my senses.
"'Lady in black!' said the most forward fellow, 'you will find plenty of black ladies down that street, with black eyes to boot.' I retreated in perfect disgust with these precocious vagabonds, not, however, before I was saluted with another peal of laughter, accompanied by the epithets--'greenhorn,' 'young 'un,' 'bumpkin,' &c. &c.
"You cannot conceive of any more thoroughly disgusting feeling than that produced upon the mind of a young man bred up in the country, upon this first exhibition of the detestable forms which vice and dissipation assume in every large city,--young females with bloated countenances,--boys with _black_ eyes and bruised faces, with their disgusting slang and fami
liar nicknames, of Sal, Bet, Kate, Tom, Josh, Jack, or Jim, and their unmeaning oaths, Billingsgate wit, and filthy and ragged garments. There are certain districts of the city in which these are always to be seen, I am informed,--but of these more anon. I turned down the street, and pursued the course which I supposed the lady had taken, until I got to the bottom of what had once been a deep glen in its rural days. I could see nothing but entrances to tanyards, and warehouses full of leather and morocco. The houses, too, looked at least a century and a half behind those on the hill, in architectural taste. Turning to a woman who was sweeping the little narrow pavement in front of one of the houses, I asked her what part of the city I was in.
"'This is called the _swamp_, sir,' was the reply.
"'This,' thought I to myself, 'is a very different affair from our swamps.' Just at that moment, casting my eye along one of the narrow streets, I caught a glimpse of the same figure, attended only by her maid, entering a low, Dutch, dingy-looking house, with the gable end to the street. I walked as rapidly as I could in the same direction, and was within some twenty yards of the house, when two young men issued from the door, with the air and dress of gentlemen. I did not immediately observe their faces, because my mind was intently occupied with the lady, and the probable cause of her visit to such a strange part of the city. These reflections were suddenly interrupted by some one slapping me on the back, and exclaiming in my ear, 'Ha! my Chevillere! you here! how do you do? what brought you here?' but I am resolved to put your curiosity to a serious test; names in my next. Yours, truly,
"V. CHEVILLERE."