The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. I., No. 3, January 1858
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Various >> The Atlantic Monthly, Vol. I., No. 3, January 1858
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The two merchants bowed politely, the one to the other, mutually
well pleased with the morning's work, and bade each other good day.
Mr. Schulemberg knew but little, if anything, about his new customer;
but as the transaction was to be a cash one, he did not mind that.
He calculated his commissions, gave orders to his head clerk to see
the goods duly delivered the next morning, and went on change and
thence to dinner in the enjoyment of a complacent mind and a good
appetite.
It is to be supposed that M. M. ---- did the same. At any rate, he
had the most reason,--at least, according to his probable notions of
mercantile morality and success.
III.
The next day came, and with it came, betimes, the packages of linens
to M. M. ----'s warehouse in Pearl Street; but the price for the
same did not come as punctually to Mr. Schulemberg's counting-room,
according to the contract under which they were delivered. In point
of fact, M. M. ---- was not in at the time; but there was no doubt
that he would attend to the matter without delay, as soon as he came
in. A cash transaction does not necessarily imply so much the instant
presence of coin as the unequivocal absence of credit. A day or two
more or less is of no material consequence, only there is to be no
delay for sales and returns before payment. So Mr. Schulemberg gave
himself no uneasiness about the matter when two, three, and even five
and six days had slid away without producing the apparition of the
current money of the merchant. A man who transacted affairs on so
large a scale as M. M. ----, and conducted them on the sound basis
of ready money, might safely be trusted for so short a time. But when
a week had elapsed and no tidings had been received either of
purchaser or purchase-money, Mr. Schulemberg thought it time for
himself to interfere in his own proper person. Accordingly, he
incontinently proceeded to the counting-house of M. M. ---- to
receive the promised price or to know the reason why. If he failed
to obtain the one satisfaction, he at least could not complain of
being disappointed of the other. Matters seemed to be in some
little unbusiness-like confusion, and the clerks in a high state
of gleeful excitement. Addressing himself to the chief among them,
Mr. Schulemberg asked the pertinent question,--
"Is M. M. ---- in?"
"No, Sir," was the answer, "he is not; and he will not be just at
present."
"But when will he be in? for I must see him on some pressing
business of importance."
"Not to-day, Sir," replied the clerk, smiling expressively;
"he cannot be interrupted to-day on any business of any kind whatever."
"The deuce he can't!" returned Mr. Schulemberg. "I'll see about that
very soon, I can tell you. He promised to pay me cash for fifty
thousand dollars' worth of Holland linens a week ago; I have not
seen the color of his money yet, and I mean to wait no longer. Where
does he live? for if he be alive, I will see him and hear what he
has to say for himself, and that speedily."
"Indeed, Sir," pleasantly expostulated the clerk, "I think when you
understand the circumstances of the case, you will forbear
disturbing M. M. ---- this day of all others in his life."
"Why, what the devil ails this day above all others," said
Mr. Schulemberg, somewhat testily, "that he can't see his
creditors and pay his debts on it?"
"Why, Sir, the fact is," the clerk replied, with an air of interest
and importance, "it is M. M. ----'s wedding-day. He marries this
morning the Signorina G----, and I am sure you would not molest him
with business on such an occasion as that."
"But my fifty thousand dollars!" persisted the consignee, "and why
have they not been paid?"
"Oh, give yourself no uneasiness at all about that, Sir," replied
the clerk, with the air of one to whom the handling of such trifles
was a daily occurrence; "M. M. ---- will, of course, attend to that
matter the moment he is a little at leisure. In fact, I imagine, that,
in the hurry and bustle inseparable from an event of this nature,
the circumstance has entirely escaped his mind; but as soon as he
returns to business again, I will recall it to his recollection, and
you will hear from him without delay."
The clerk was right in his augury as to the effect his intelligence
would have upon the creditor. It was not a clerical error on his
part when he supposed that Mr. Schulemberg would not choose to enact
the part of skeleton at the wedding breakfast of the young _Prima
Donna_. There is something about the great events of life, which
cannot happen a great many times to anybody,--
"A wedding or a funeral,
A mourning or a festival,--"
that touches the strings of the one human heart of us all and makes
it return no uncertain sound. _Shylock_ himself would hardly have
demanded his pound of flesh on the wedding-day, had it been _Antonio_
that was to espouse the fair _Portia_. Even he would have allowed
three days of grace before demanding the specific performance of his
bond. Now Mr. Schulemberg was very far from being a Shylock, and he
was also a constant attendant upon the opera, and a devoted admirer
of the lovely G----. So he could not wonder that a man on the eve of
marriage with that divine creature should forget every other
consideration in the immediate contemplation of his happiness,--even
if it were the consideration for a cargo of prime linens, and one to
the tune of fifty thousand dollars. And it is altogether likely that
the mundane reflection occurred to him, and made him easier in his
mind under the delay, that old G---- was by no means the kind of man
to give away a daughter who dropped gold and silver from her sweet
lips whenever she opened them in public, as the princess in the
fairy-tale did pearls and diamonds, to any man who could not give
him a solid equivalent in return. So that, in fact, he regarded the
notes of the Signorina G---- as so much collateral security for his
debt.
So Mr. Schulemberg was content to bide his reasonable time for the
discharge of M. M. ----'s indebtedness to his principal. He had
advised Mynheer Van Holland of the speedy sale of his consignment,
and given him hopes of a quick return of the proceeds. But as days
wore away, it seemed to him that the time he was called on to bide
was growing into an unreasonable one. I cannot state with precision
exactly how long he waited. Whether he disturbed the sweet
influences of the honey-moon by his intrusive presence, or permitted
that nectareous satellite to fill her horns and wax and wane in
peace before he sought to bring the bridegroom down to the things of
earth, are questions which I must leave to the discretion of my
readers to settle, each for himself or herself, according to their
own notions of the proprieties of the case. But at the proper time,
after patience had thrown up in disgust the office of a virtue, he
took his hat and cane one fine morning and walked down to No. 118,
Pearl Street, for the double purpose of wishing M. M. ---- joy of
his marriage and of receiving the price, promised long and long
withheld, of the linens which form the tissue of my story.
"The gods gave ear and granted half his prayer;
The rest the winds dispersed in empty air."
There was not the slightest difficulty about his imparting
his epithalamic congratulation,--but as to his receiving the
numismatic consideration for which he hoped in return, that was
an entirely different affair. He found matters in the Pearl-Street
counting-house again apparently something out of joint, but with a
less smiling and sunny atmosphere pervading them than he had remarked
on his last visit. He was received by M. M. ---- with courtesy, a
little over-strained, perhaps, and not as flowing and gracious as at
their first interview. Preliminaries over, Mr. Schulemberg, plunging
with epic energy into the midst of things, said, "I have called,
M. M. ----, to receive the fifty thousand dollars, which, you will
remember, you engaged to pay down for the linens I sold you on such
a day. I can make allowance for the interruption which has prevented
your attending to this business sooner, but it is now high time that
it were settled."
"I consent to it all, Monsieur," replied M. M. ----, with a
deprecatory gesture; "you have reason, and I am desolated that it is
the impossible that you ask of me to do."
"How, Sir!" demanded the creditor; "what do you mean by the
impossible? You do not mean to deny that you agreed to pay cash for
the goods?"
"My faith, no, Monsieur," shruggingly responded M. M. ----;
"I avow it; you have reason; I promised to pay the money, as you say
it; but if I have not the money to pay you, how can I pay you the
money? What to do?"
"I don't understand you, Sir," returned Mr. Schulemberg. "You have
not the money? And you do not mean to pay me according to agreement?"
"But, Monsieur, how can I when I have not money? Have you not heard
that I have made--what you call it?--failure, yesterday? I am
grieved of it, thrice sensibly; but if it went of my life, I could
not pay you for your fine linens, which were of a good market at the
price."
"Indeed, sir," replied Mr. Schulemberg, "I had not heard of your
misfortunes; and I am heartily sorry for them, on my own account and
yours, but still more on account of your charming wife. But there is
no great harm done, after all. Send the linens back to me and
accounts shall be square between us, and I will submit to the loss
of the interest."
"Ah, but, Monsieur, you are too good, and Madame will be recognizant
to you forever for your gracious politeness. But, my God, it is
impossible that I return to you the linen. I have sold it, Monsieur,
I have sold it all!"
"Sold it?" reiterated Mr. Schulemberg, regardless of the rules of
etiquette, "Sold it? And to whom, pray? And when?"
"To M. G----, my father-in-the-law," answered the catechumen, blandly;
"and it is a week that he has received it."
"Then I must bid you a good morning, Sir," said Mr. Schulemberg,
rising hastily and collecting his hat and gloves, "for I must lose
no time in taking measures to recover the goods before they have
changed hands again."
"Pardon, Monsieur," interrupted the poor, but honest M. ----,
"but it is too late! One cannot regain them. M. G---- embarked
himself for Mexico yesterday morning, and carried them all with him!"
Imagine the consternation and rage of poor Mr. Schulemberg at
finding that he was sold, though the goods were not! I decline
reporting the conversation any farther, lest its strength of
expression and force of expletive might be too much for the more
queasy of my readers. Suffice it to say, that the _swindlee_, if I
may be allowed the royalty of coining a word, at once freed his own
mind and imprisoned the body of M. M. ----; for in those days
imprisonment for debt was a recognized institution, and I think few
of its strongest opponents will deny that this was a case to which
it was no abuse to apply it.
IV.
I regret that I am compelled to leave this exemplary merchant in
captivity; but the exigencies of my story, the moral of which
beckons me away to the distant coast of Mexico, require it at my
hands. The reader may be consoled, however, by the knowledge that he
obtained his liberation in due time, his Dutch creditor being
entirely satisfied that nothing whatsoever could be squeezed out of
him by passing him between the bars of the debtor's prison, though
that was all the satisfaction he ever did get. How he accompanied his
young wife to Europe and there lived by the coining of her voice
into drachmas, as her father had done before him, needs not to be
told here; nor yet how she was divorced from him, and made another
matrimonial venture in partnership with De B----. I have nothing to
do with him or her, after the bargain and sale of which she was the
object, and the consequences which immediately resulted from it; and
here, accordingly, I take my leave of them. But my story is not
quite done yet; it must now pursue the fortunes of the enterprising
_impresario_, Signor G----, who had so deftly turned his daughter
into a ship-load of fine linens.
This excellent person sailed, as M. M. ---- told Mr. Schulemberg, for
Vera Cruz, with an assorted cargo, consisting of singers, fiddlers,
and, as aforesaid, of Mynheer Van Holland's fine linens. The voyage
was as prosperous as was due to such an argosy. If a single Amphion
could not be drowned by the utmost malice of gods and men, so long as
he kept his voice in order, what possible mishap could befall a
whole ship-load of them? The vessel arrived safely under the shadow
of San Juan de Ulua, and her precious freight in all its varieties
was welcomed with a tropical enthusiasm. The market was bare of
linen and of song, and it was hard to say which found the readiest
sale. Competition raised the price of both articles to a fabulous
height. So the good G---- had the benevolent satisfaction of clothing
the naked and making the ears that heard him to bless him at the
same time. After selling his linens at a great advance on the cost
price, considering he had only paid his daughter for them, and
having given a series of the most successful concerts ever known in
those latitudes, Signor G---- set forth for the Aztec City. As the
relations of _meum_ and _tuum_ were not upon the most satisfactory
footing just then at Vera Cruz, he thought it most prudent to carry
his well-won treasure with him to the capital. His progress thither
was a triumphal procession. Not Cortes, not General Scott, himself,
marched more gloriously along the steep and rugged road that leads
from the sea-coast to the table-land, than did this son of song.
Every city on his line of march was the monument of a victory, and
from each one he levied tribute and bore spoils away. And the
vanquished thanked him for this spoiling of their goods.
Arrived at the splendid city, at that time the largest and most
populous on the North American continent, he speedily made himself
master of it, a welcome conqueror. The Mexicans, with the genuine
love for song of their Southern ancestors, had had but few
opportunities for gratifying it such as that now offered to them. G----
was a tenor of great compass, and a most skilful and accomplished
singer. The artists who accompanied him were of a high order of merit,
if not of the very first class. Mexico had never heard the like, and,
though a hard-money country, was glad to take their notes and give
them gold in return. They were feasted and flattered in the
intervals of the concerts, and the bright eyes of Senoras and
Senoritas rained influence upon them on the off nights, as their
fair hands rained flowers upon the _on_ ones. And they have a very
pleasant way, in those golden realms, of giving ornaments of diamonds
and other precious stones to virtuous singers, as we give
pencil-cases and gold watches to meritorious railway conductors and
hotel clerks, as a testimonial of the sense we entertain of their
private characters and public services. The gorgeous East herself
never showered on her kings barbaric pearl and gold with a richer
hand than the city of Mexico poured out the glittering rain over the
portly person of the happy G----. Saturated at length with the
golden flood and its foam of pearl and diamond,--if, indeed, singer
were ever capable of such saturation, and were not rather permeable
forever like a sieve of the Danaides,--saturated, or satisfied that
it was all run out, he prepared to take up his line of march back
again to the City of the True Cross. Mexico mourned over his going,
and sent him forth upon his way with blessings and prayers for his
safe return.
But, alas! the blessings and the prayers were alike vain. The saints
were either deaf or busy, or had gone a journey, and either did not
hear or did not mind the vows that were sent up to them. At any rate,
they did not take that care of the worthy G---- which their devotees
had a right to expect of them. Turning his back on the Halls of the
Montezumas, where he had revelled so sumptuously, he proceeded on
his way towards the Atlantic coast, as fast as his mules thought fit
to carry him and his beloved treasure. With the proceeds of his
linens and his lungs, he was rich enough to retire from the
vicissitudes of operatic life, to some safe retreat in his native
Spain or his adoptive Italy. Filled with happy imaginings, he fared
onward, the bells of his mules keeping time with the melodious joy
of his heart, until he had descended from the _tierra caliente_ to
the wilder region on the hither side of Jalapa. As the narrow road
turned sharply, at the foot of a steeper descent than common, into a
dreary valley, made yet more gloomy by the shadow of the hill behind
intercepting the sun, though the afternoon was not far advanced, the
_impresario_ was made unpleasantly aware of the transitory nature
of man's hopes and the vanity of his joys. When his train wound into
the rough open space, it found itself surrounded by a troop of men
whose looks and gestures bespoke their function without the
intermediation of an interpreter. But no interpreter was needed in
this case, as Signor G---- was a Spaniard by birth, and their
expressive pantomime was a sufficiently eloquent substitute for
speech. In plain English, he had fallen among thieves, with very
little chance of any good Samaritan coming by to help him.
Now Signor G---- had had dealings with brigands and banditti all his
operatic life. Indeed, he had often drilled them till they were
perfect in their exercises, and got them up regardless of expense.
Under his direction they had often rushed forward to the footlights,
pouring into the helpless mass before them repeated volleys of
explosive crotchets. But this was a very different chorus that now
saluted his eyes. It was the real thing, instead of the make-believe,
and, in the opinion of Signor G----, at least, very much inferior to
it. Instead of the steeple-crowned hat, jauntily feathered and looped,
these irregulars wore huge _sombreros_, much the worse for time and
weather, flapped over their faces. For the velvet jacket with the
two-inch tail, which had nearly broken up the friendship between
Mr. Pickwick and Mr. Tupman, when the latter gentleman proposed
induing himself with one, on the occasion of Mrs. Leo Hunter's
fancy-dress breakfast,--for this integument, I say, these minions of
the moon had blankets round their shoulders, thrown back in
preparation for actual service. Instead of those authentic
cross-garterings in which your true bandit rejoices, like a new
Malvolio, to tie up his legs, perhaps to keep them from running away,
these false knaves wore, some of them, ragged boots up to their
thighs, while others had no crural coverings at all, and only rough
sandals, such as the Indians there use, between their feet and the
ground. They were picturesque, perhaps, but not attractive to wealthy
travellers. But the wealthy travellers were attractive to them; so
they came together, all the same. Such as they were, however, there
they were, fierce, sad, and sallow, with vicious-looking knives in
their belts, and guns of various parentage in their hands, while
their Captain bade our good man stand and deliver.
There was no room for choice. He had an escort, to be sure; but it
was entirely unequal to the emergency,--even if it were not, as was
afterwards shrewdly suspected, in league with the robbers. The enemy
had the advantage of arms, position, and numbers; and there was
nothing for him to do but to disgorge his hoarded gains at once, or
to have his breath stripped first and his estate summarily
administered upon afterwards by these his casual heirs,--as the King
of France, by virtue of his _Droit d'Aubaine_, would have
confiscated Yorick's six shirts and pair of black silk breeches, in
spite of his eloquent protest against such injustice, had he chanced
to die in his Most Christian Majesty's dominions. As Signor G----
had an estate in his breath, from which he could draw a larger yearly
rent than the rolls of many a Spanish grandee could boast, he wisely
chose the part of discretion and surrendered at the same. His new
acquaintances showed themselves expert practitioners in the breaking
open of trunks and the rifling of treasure-boxes. All his beloved
doubloons, all his cherished dollars, for the which no Yankee ever
felt a stronger passion, took swift wings and flew from his coffers
to alight in the hands of the adversary. The sacred recesses of his
pockets, and those of his companions, were sacred no longer from the
sacrilegious hands of the spoilers. The breast-pins were ravished
from the shirt-frills,--for in those days studs were not,--and the
rings snatched from the reluctant fingers. All the shining
testimonials of Mexican admiration were transferred with the
celerity of magic into the possession of the chivalry of the road.
Not Faulconbridge himself could have been more resolved to come on
at the beckoning of gold and silver than were they, and, good
Catholics though they were, it is most likely that Bell, Book, and
Candle would have had as little restraining influence over them as
he professed to feel.
At last they rested from their labors. To the victors belonged the
spoils, as they discovered with instinctive sagacity that they
should do, though the apophthegm had not yet received the authentic
seal of American statesmanship. Science and skill had done their
utmost, and poor G---- and his companions in misery stood in the
centre of the ring stripped of everything but the clothes on their
backs. The duty of the day being satisfactorily performed, the
victors felt that they had a right to some relaxation after their
toils. And now a change came over them which might have reminded
Signor G---- of the banditti of the green-room, with whose habits he
had been so long familiar and whose operations he had himself
directed. Some one of the troop, who, however fit for stratagems and
spoils, had yet music in his soul, called aloud for a song. The idea
was hailed with acclamations. Not satisfied with the capitalized
results of his voice to which they had helped themselves, they were
unwilling to let their prey go until they had also ravished from him
some specimens of the airy mintage whence they had issued.
Accordingly the Catholic vagabonds seated themselves on the ground,
a fuliginous parterre to look upon, and called upon G---- for a song.
A rock which projected itself from the side of the hill served for a
stage as well as the "green plat" in the wood near Athens did for
the company of Manager Quince, and there was no need of "a
tyring-room," as poor G---- had no clothes to change for those he
stood in. Not the Hebrews by the waters of Babylon, when their
captors demanded of them a song of Zion, had less stomach for the
task. But the prime tenor was now before an audience that would
brook neither denial nor excuse. Nor hoarseness, nor catarrh, nor
sudden illness, certified unto by the friendly physician, would
avail him now. The demand was irresistible; for when he hesitated,
the persuasive though stern mouth of a musket hinted to him in
expressive silence that he had better prevent its speech with song.
So he had to make his first appearance upon that "unworthy scaffold,"
before an audience which, multifold as his experience had been, was
one such as he had never sung to yet. As the shadows of evening
began to fall, rough torches of pine wood were lighted and shed a
glare such as Salvator Rosa loved to kindle, upon a scene such as he
delighted to paint. The rascals had taste,--that the tenor himself
could not deny. They knew the choice bits of the operas which held
the stage forty years ago, and they called for them wisely and
applauded his efforts vociferously. Nay, more, in the height of
their enthusiasm, they would toss him one of his own doubloons or
dollars, instead of the bouquets usually hurled at well-deserving
singers. They well judged that these flowers that never fade would
be the tribute he would value most, and so they rewarded his
meritorious strains out of his own stores, as Claude Du Val or
Richard Tarpin, in the golden days of highway robbery, would
sometimes generously return a guinea to a traveller he had just
lightened of his purse, to enable him to continue his journey. It
was lucky for the unfortunate G---- that their approbation took this
solid shape, or he would have been badly off indeed; for it was all
he had to begin the world with over again. After his appreciating
audience had exhausted their musical repertory and had as many
encores as they thought good, they broke up the concert and betook
themselves to their fastnesses among the mountains, leaving their
patient to find his way to the coast as best he might, with a pocket
as light as his soul was heavy. At Vera Cruz a concert or two
furnished him with the means of embarking himself and his troupe for
Europe, and leaving the New World forever behind him.
And here I must leave him, for my story is done. The reader hungering
for a moral may discern, that, though Signor G---- received the
price he asked for his lovely daughter, it advantaged him nothing,
and that he not only lost it all, but it was the occasion of his
losing everything else he had. This is very well as far as it goes;
but then it is equally true that M. M. ---- actually obtained his
wife, and that Mynheer Van Holland paid for her. I dare say all this
can be reconciled with the eternal fitness of things; but I protest
I don't see how it is to be done. It is "all a muddle," in my mind.
I cannot even affirm that the banditti were ever hanged; and I am
quite sure that the unlucky Dutch merchant, whose goods were so
comically mixed up with this whole history, never had any poetical
or material justice for his loss of them. But it is as much the
reader's business as mine to settle these casuistries. I only
undertook to tell him who it was that paid for the _Prima Donna_,--
and I have done it.
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